How the survivors of the wildfires PG&E started are being victimized all over again
The first time Teri
Lindsay became homeless was on Nov. 8, 2018, the day of the Camp Fire.
The second time was last weekend.
Lindsay had been waiting for months for a $20,500 payment from the Fire Victim Trust, a court-ordered fund set up by PG&E to dole out more than $13.5 billion to victims of fires started by the utility in 2015, 2017 and 2018. But the trust has been plagued by delays and mismanagement.
Many fire victims have found it almost impossible to stay housed while waiting for their money, compounding their trauma.
“I’ve got to keep finding the strength to move on for my kids,” Lindsay said. “They tell me I’m their rock, and I’ve got to continue to be. I cry a lot at night when I’m by myself, as long as they don’t see it.”
Lindsay had previously received payments totaling about $29,000 from the trust. Trust representatives repeatedly promised in letters to her lawyer that the additional $20,500 would be in the next round of funding, but it kept failing to materialize.
Trust representatives declined to comment on Lindsay’s case in particular but said in a statement that “the trust is legally obligated to withhold a portion of the claimant’s payment under certain circumstances and ... the trust has resolved 98% of those liens. The previously withheld funds are being paid out to claimants as quickly as possible.”
The statement reiterated the suggestion that Lindsay’s payment would be in the next round of funding, expected this week.
Broken promises
This was the third time Lindsay had been told the payment was coming. She had stopped hoping, she said; hope just leads to disappointment. Previously, the trust told her the payment would come in May and, before that, in February. Each time, her financial situation got worse.
She said she went from escaping the state’s deadliest and most destructive fire to living in Federal Emergency Management Agency housing and then, for a time, in a motor home plagued by dry rot and electrical malfunctions.
Her marriage broke up under the stress and uncertainty. She moved yet again, this time into a rented camper, but the owners had to sell it this month and she couldn’t afford to buy it from them.
She bought a big, black truck with help from her 21-year-old son. It was a good thing she had it, because she was reduced to living in it for a night after she lost the trailer. Luckily, she found another, much smaller trailer through the help of a community organization for fire victims, but she still owes an additional $2,000 on it and another $7,500 to a friend who loaned her the down payment.
Lindsay and her son have no way to make the next truck payment, though, which is putting the family’s credit at risk.
“I’m frightened and can’t handle this anymore,” she wrote in a text. “If I lose this too, I’m afraid I’m going to break down.”
The family of five had bought their threebedroom home in Paradise just weeks before the fire swept through. But they hadn’t yet applied for fire insurance, Lindsay said, because they were pouring their money into setting up an accessible trailer for their eldest daughter, Megan. The 34-yearold has arthrogryposis, scoliosis and hypoglycemia, resulting in weak muscles, stiff joints and brittle bones; she uses an electric wheelchair for mobility.
When I visited Lindsay in the Butte County community of Palermo on June 1, a few days before she was set to lose the trailer she was living in, her phone was ringing nonstop. Creditors, she said — always calling to find out when she can make a payment. Sometimes she hides her phone so her youngest daughter can’t hear it ringing.
“I don’t want people to forget about the fire victims,” she said. “We didn’t ask for this, and we shouldn’t be put in this situation. We just want our lives back.”
Everything in her life was on hold for the money she was rightfully owed — owed because of PG&E’S felonious neglect of a 100-year-old power line in Jarbo Gap more than three years ago.
“We shouldn’t be living like this,” Lindsay said. “We shouldn’t be having to stand around waiting for a handout because that money is rightfully ours.”
Losing trust
The Butte County
Board of Supervisors unanimously wrote a letter last month to John Trotter, the trustee appointed to oversee disbursement of the settlement funds, asking for more transparency in the trust’s process. The board sought answers to what should be easy questions, including: How long before the trust distributes all funds?
What is the total monthly expense to administer the trust, inclusive of all staff? And why has only $3.4 billion been distributed out of $13.5 billion?
“Many survivors of the Camp Fire find themselves unable to move on with their lives until they receive their settlements,” wrote Supervisor Bill Connelly, the board’s chair. “Thousands of our residents continue to live in temporary conditions, many are living in RVS, some have long worn out their welcome at their friends’ or families’ couches, and unfortunately, some have ended up unhoused and on the streets.”
Trotter’s response to the Butte County Board of Supervisors — and, later, to an editorial by the Chico Enterprise-record — was petulant. In the two-page letter posted on the trust’s website, he said he saw “little reason to take my staff ’s time away from advancing payments to the victims in order to help politicians make a statement.”
Last year, 11 legislators representing areas affected by Pg&e-caused fires — including Assembly
Minority Leader James Gallagher, state Sen. Jim Nielsen and state Sen.
Brian Dahle — wrote state Attorney General Rob Bonta asking for a probe of the trust.
“The longer it takes to pay out these claims, the more overhead costs there will be,” they wrote. “Further delays will only make a bad situation worse.”
Nothing ever came of the request.
While the trustees continue to delay and squabble, fire victims suffer.
Breaking down
On the back of Lindsay’s truck is a sticker that says “Paradise Strong.” But she doesn’t feel very strong these days.
Her health has suffered, both physically and mentally, from the constant stress. Lindsay also suffered a random assault and robbery on the streets of Oroville in January, which left her concussed and in the hospital for two days. She’s had memory problems since.
“Since the money didn’t show up, I’ve just been, like, sick to my stomach and not sleeping and headaches,” she said. “I don’t feel good. I’m so tired of going through this, because I can only take so much.”
Lindsay and her youngest daughter, Erika, were some of the lucky ones that day in 2018. The rest of the family was away on a trip the morning of the fire, which meant Lindsay and her daughter were able to evacuate quickly. A melted watch found in the ruins of their old home confirmed that they had escaped with just seven minutes to spare.
Lindsay has been searching for a home ever since. She recently launched an online campaign to raise money she says she desperately needs.
Finally, on Wednesday, Lindsay got the $20,500 check she had been expecting for so long. But she is now deep in debt from months of waiting.
“I’m hoping to pay some bills,” she said on her way to cash the check, “and then see what I’ve got left.”