A firetruck from Pasadena’s Station 36 was one of the first to reach the blaze of the Eaton Fire in Altadena, California. When they turned onto Altadena Drive, says firefighter Keith Holloway, “everything was on fire, everything — the bushes, the trees, the houses…that's when we were literally like you just walked us right into a volcano, an active volcano.”
It was, Holloway recalls, “apocalyptic.”
In 45 years of fighting fires, Holloway had never seen anything like it. Winds gusted between 50 mph and 90 mph for 12 hours straight, according to the Eaton Canyon wind monitor at Henninger Flats.
“The wind was blowing so hard a couple times I had to literally back up because I couldn't walk forward. It was blowing all this stuff” — smoke, ash, embers — “in my face, I couldn't see. Everything was on fire.”
It was, he adds, “like standing inside of a glowing toaster.”
A block away from Altadena Drive, 67-year-old Anthony Mitchell Sr. had called 911. On his own, likely would have tried to escape despite his prosthetic leg; his diabetes claimed it in an amputation last year. But he couldn’t leave behind his son, Justin Mitchell; the 35-year-old suffered from cerebral palsy.
As the fire became increasingly deadly, Anthony called family members on the morning of January 8 to say they were awaiting evacuation assistance, according to a report by the Los Angeles Times.
But if help ever came, it was too late. Justin and Anthony died in the fire.
People with disabilities — whether cognitive or mobility-related — often lack necessary support from emergency services during such desperate times, which makes major disasters more dangerous — or even deadly — for them than other groups. They’re up to four times more likely to be critically injured or die during natural disasters, according to the Washington D.C.-based National Council on Disability.
The number of climate disasters around the world has nearly multiplied by four since the 1970s when there were about 100 disasters per year. In 2024, there were around 400 disasters, according to the International Disaster Database. That’s more than one for every day of the year.
It places enormous pressure on people who have great difficulty moving around. “When you see a warning about a flash flood, who's going to be able to get to high ground and who isn't?” says Kathleen Tierney, a sociologist who studies natural disasters and their effects on vulnerable populations. “When you're told to get under a desk or a table during an earthquake, who's going to be able to do that and who isn't?”
A 2019 "audit" of three California counties — Butte, Sonoma and Ventura — by the office of the California state auditor revealed that official emergency responses didn't sufficiently protect people with disabilities during natural disasters.
“None of the counties had conducted assessments of their respective [disabled] populations to determine what access and functional needs existed in their communities, prearranged for evacuation assistance to meet those needs, or fully prepared to send critical warning messages,” according to the document.
The audit further criticized the Governor's Office of Emergency Services for not complying with state laws that require them to offer guidance to local jurisdictions on how to support people with special needs. “These failures leave local jurisdictions without key resources that could help them develop plans to protect people with access and functional needs during future natural disasters.”
Even after disasters are over, people with disabilities are often left in turmoil; some must scramble to replace potentially life-saving medication or medical equipment that was destroyed, like a feeding tube that’s needed to eat and drink. Others find themselves in temporary shelters that offer a roof, but lack crucial accommodations, leaving people in wheelchairs or on crutches in housing rental housing with too many stairways.
