In LA, residents weigh whether to sell or rebuild after fires destroy their homes
| Altadena, Calif.
Alicia Rodriguez has already been approached by a company that wants to buy her burned-out property in Altadena.
That property, where she lived with her adult son, was in the once-picturesque neighborhood of well-appointed stucco homes on Olive Avenue. Most all of them are gone now, among those consumed by the Eaton Fire.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onThose displaced after losing homes in the LA fires are weighing whether to rebuild or sell. Will a vibrant and diverse community retain its historic character?
“I’ve got a lot going on," Ms. Rodriguez says as she stands in line at a donation center at a local church. "Maybe I’ll just sell and move. I hate to leave my community, but I don’t know if we can make it work here anymore.”
Indeed, as it is the tens of thousands of others who have lost homes or endured significant damage to their houses, getting a cash offer from a big company can be difficult to turn down. It could even be a lifeline for some, as the cost of existing housing skyrockets, even though it's against the law.
“In disasters like this, you’ll see the best and worst in people,” says Yulree Chun Tio, a realtor and brand strategist in Cerritos who has been doing pro-bono work for those who have been displaced. “Some landlords give people free lodging for a period of time and others price gouge.”
Alicia Rodriguez has already been approached by a company who wants to buy her burned-out property in Altadena.
That property, where she lived with her adult son, was in the once-picturesque neighborhood of well-appointed stucco homes on Olive Avenue. Most all of them are gone now, among those consumed by the Eaton Fire.
Her son struggles with a seizure disorder, and Ms. Rodriguez was with him in the hospital, where he was undergoing a scheduled brain surgery, when the fire began to tear through her neighborhood.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onThose displaced after losing homes in the LA fires are weighing whether to rebuild or sell. Will a vibrant and diverse community retain its historic character?
“My dad is sick, too,” she says as she stands in line at a donation center at Westminster Presbyterian on Lake Avenue. She asks for a few boxes of wet wipes. “I’ve got a lot going on. Maybe I’ll just sell and move. I hate to leave my community, but I don’t know if we can make it work here anymore.”
Indeed, as it is for the tens of thousands of others who have lost homes or endured significant damage to their houses, getting a cash offer from a big company can be difficult to turn down. It could even be a lifeline for some.
“It’s an option,” Ms. Rodriguez says of the offer she received. “I’m lucky to have anything. There are so many people who don’t even have what I do.” When her son recovers, she says, she’ll head to Redding to care for her dad, so she’ll have a place to stay.
Housing prices are skyrocketing, even though it's against the law
But thousands of others do not, says Yulree Chun Tio, a realtor and brand strategist in Cerritos who has been doing pro-bono work for people in need of a place to rent.
In addition to companies seeking to purchase properties from those who are displaced, Ms. Tio says, the prices of houses now for sale or rent are starting to skyrocket, even though it’s against the law.
“There aren’t enough homes,” she says. “There weren’t before the fires, and it’s worse now. For every house for rent or sale, there are 100 people in line within minutes of it being advertised. No one wants to stay in a hotel or a campsite for long.
“They need housing and I doubt strongly that most will find it, not at these prices,” she says. “People started gouging within a day of the fires.”
On Jan. 14, Governor Gavin Newsom signed an executive order to block predatory speculators from approaching homeowners within three months of the fire in heavily impacted Zip codes.
“As families mourn, the last thing they need is greedy speculators taking advantage of their pain,” Gov. Newsom said in a statement. “I have heard first-hand from community members and victims who have received unsolicited and predatory offers from speculators offering cash far below market value - some while their homes were burning.”
Violating the order is a misdemeanor if a speculator is caught and charged. But the practice continues.
California law, too, outlaws price gouging after an emergency has been declared, prohibiting increases of more than 10% for 30 days after a disaster. The governor has extended this prohibition for 60 days, to March 8, and it may be extended again.
Even so, says Ms. Tio, gouging is likely to continue because desperation grows with every passing day.
“If you’re on the low end of the housing market, you’ll have nowhere to go,” she says. “We’re already seeing it. I had a pro bono client who was trying to find a place, and before we could go look at it, the landlord jacked up the rent by $3,000.
“In disasters like this, you’ll see the best and worst in people,” Ms. Tio says. “Some landlords give people free lodging for a period of time and others price gouge.”
California officials say 9,418 structures have been lost in the Eaton Fire and 1,064 damaged in the once working-class neighborhoods of Altadena and surrounding areas. Overall, the Eaton Fire and Palisades Fire have destroyed almost 16,000 structures and damaged almost 2,000 more.
These losses come at a time when California was already facing a chronic shortage of homes, driving prices to some of the highest in the country. According to a 2024 report by the California Housing Partnership, the state was hoping to build 119,287 affordable new homes in 2024, but it funded construction of only 14,592.
By most any metric, Greater Los Angeles has the worst homeless crisis in the nation, and experts worry the aftermath of the fires could further exacerbate this crisis. And most know the attention and funding pouring in now won’t last.
Will a vibrant and diverse community survive?
One of the greatest dangers, resident after resident says, is the loss of one of the most vibrant communities in the country.
“This was a diverse community where people were able to build decades ago,” says Ms. Tio. And part of this diversity now remains a cross-section of socioeconomic groups. Given the efforts of companies trying to buy up properties and California’s housing crisis, she worries about gentrification. “I’m afraid for working-class people who will either have to move or become homeless."
One section of Altadena is a historic and thriving middle-class Black neighborhood. In the era of redlining, Black folk around the country moved here, a place where many could afford houses without guaranteed loans. In California’s tight housing market, much of the area can now be considered affluent, with the median home value between $700,000 and $1.3 million.
Stephanie Graves and her husband, longtime members of the Altadena Black community, are not even thinking of selling. They built their house on Pine Street 32 years ago. This month, they lost it in the Eaton Fire.
“We will rebuild,” Ms. Graves says. “This was our first home, and I can’t worry about what anyone else does. We live here, and we will continue to live here. We’re feeling supported by our community, and we’re praying our way through it.”
The Graves are staying with other family members while they sort their way through insurance policies and available state and federal aid. “We are figuring it out. It’s complicated, but the help is there.”
