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This California city lost thousands of homes to fire. Santa Rosa’s rebuilding has lessons for L.A.

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This California city lost thousands of homes to fire. Santa Rosa’s rebuilding has lessons for L.A.

The sky above their newly built homes was clear, and the ground beneath their feet reassuringly soggy from recent winter rains. But as residents in the Coffey Park neighborhood made their way to a community gathering on a recent evening — passing one yard after another devoid of trees or brush or anything readily flammable — many said they still have flashbacks to a night of smoke and flames and fear.

It’s been more than seven years since homes in this Santa Rosa neighborhood were incinerated by the Tubbs fire, which swept across Napa and Sonoma counties in a matter of hours before jumping six lanes of the 101 Freeway. The residents of Coffey Park — about 9,000 people — were roused from their beds in a panic and fled through flames and whipping embers. In some cases, people walked miles to safety, with singed pets struggling in their arms and only the clothes on their backs.

A scorched lawn statue stands amid the rubble of the Coffey Park neighborhood in Santa Rosa in October 2017.

(Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times)

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Five neighborhood residents died in the fire, among 22 total in Sonoma County. At the time, it was the most destructive fire in California history — although that record would quickly be broken, and then broken again in the coming years.

Fire wasn’t supposed to do what it did that night. No one had predicted the flames would move so fast, or consume so much of this city of 175,000 and surrounding communities. No one could have predicted, either, that Santa Rosa would manage to build back so quickly, or that residents would say that, in some ways, their communities emerged stronger: safer from fire and more closely knit.

Just more than a week into Los Angeles’ ordeal by fire, the neighbors of Coffey Park were gathering in Tricia Woods’ rebuilt kitchen to raise funds to send to fire victims in L.A. They also wanted to send a message: You can’t imagine it now, but it is possible to recover from this.

Yes, the aftermath is hard: “I moved seven times in three years,” Diane Farris said of the uncertainty and dislocation.

And you never get over the trauma: “I still have a go bag packed,” Anita Rackerby confided, as her neighbors nodded in recognition.

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But they knew from shared experience that communities can, indeed, rise from ashes.

A man opens the sliding glass door of a home under construction in Santa Rosa.

Santa Rosa streamlined the process for rebuilding neighborhoods leveled in the 2017 Tubbs fire.

(Paul Kuroda / For The Times)

People in Santa Rosa are acutely aware that they are in the unenviable position of having hosted one of California’s first and most brutal megafires in this new age of unpredictable burns.

On the night of Oct. 8, 2017, the Tubbs fire ignited near the town of Calistoga. Within five hours, the blaze — spitting embers that helped it leapfrog in all directions — had traveled 12 miles, over the hills that separate Napa and Sonoma counties and down into Santa Rosa. Then, it did the unthinkable, jumping the freeway and burning through homes that were viewed as being at low risk for wildfire.

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Santa Rosa has been in a state of recovery ever since. Along the way, some residents have become unofficial disaster consultants, jetting off to scenes of devastation around the country — to Paradise, which the Camp fire eviscerated in 2018; and Lahaina, the Maui community that burned to the ground in 2023 — to counsel people on how to pick up the pieces.

A grassy lot is all that remains of a house burned in the Tubbs fire.

A grassy lot is all that remains of a home lost in the Tubbs fire.

(Paul Kuroda / For The Times)

Gabe Osburn, Santa Rosa’s planning director, said the L.A.-area fires were still raging when he got his first call from representatives of the city of Los Angeles. The question was simple: What do we do?

Osburn was Santa Rosa’s deputy director of city services in 2017. He found out his city was on fire the way most residents did: He woke to a blaring alarm.

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His house, just outside Coffey Park, was filled with smoke, and it had a distinct smell that he recognized as wildfire. He glanced out his second-story window and saw a terrifying orange glow over his neighborhood. He and his wife grabbed what they could, which included their three cats, and fled to a relative’s house in southern Sonoma County.

Then, he reported to work.

It wasn’t long before the scope of the disaster became clear. Twenty-two people dead. And tens of thousands were homeless. With more than 3,000 homes burned within city limits — and more than 5,000 in the surrounding area — Santa Rosa had just lost 5% of its housing stock.

In a city that already had a housing crunch, this was a crisis. Where were all the people whose homes had burned going to live? And given that many of them were relatively wealthy, would their search for housing have the domino effect of pushing other renters out? What could or should government officials do about it?

Amid the charred rubble, residents were starting to ask themselves the same questions.

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A cuddly dog licks a boy's face, while his parents look on smiling.

Brad Sherwood, center, with his wife, Brandy, and son Grant in front of their rebuilt home in Santa Rosa.

(Paul Kuroda / For The Times)

In Larkfield Estates, a neighborhood just north of the city limits, Brad Sherwood and his wife, Brandy, had long reassured their children that they had nothing to fear from wildfire. “I live on a valley floor,” he said of his thinking. “This is not the wild/urban interface” that is prone to burning. “They can stop it.”

He was wrong, as so many others have been in recent years when predicting what wildfires would do based on what they have done in the past.

Sherwood said he “will never forget looking up this canyon as I’m running from my house, seeing fire tornadoes ripping down” toward him. And yet, he added: “On Day 1, my wife and I said, we are rebuilding. This is our home.”

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But first, they had to find a place to live. And of course, they were dealing with insurance, and the hundreds of things they had to account for in order to get paid.

And life didn’t stop. Both he and his wife had jobs, and they had to take care of their children, who had been through the ordeal of watching their home burn down.

An elegant dining table made from a walnut tree that was burned in the Tubbs fire.

Brad and Brandy Sherwood had a dining table made from a signature walnut tree on their property that was damaged in the Tubbs fire.

(Paul Kuroda / For The Times)

He and his wife decided they would “divide and conquer.” Brandy would take the “front-line approach,” taking the lead with the insurance company and, eventually, the builder who constructed their new home. Brad “would focus on community outreach.”

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“I knew that if we weren’t working together as a community, we would not be successful as a whole,” he said.

In the weeks after the fire, he built a website that would serve as an information hub for Larkfield Estates, whose residents were now scattered across the county and beyond. The community began holding neighborhood meetings and inviting local officials. The area supervisor, James Gore, created a “block captain” program for burned-out neighborhoods, to simplify communication and allow neighbors to speak collectively.

The community developed a “needs assessment.” In addition to rebuilding homes, recovery would require debris removal, reconstruction of power, water and sewer systems and fixing streets.

They also needed to figure out how to efficiently rebuild. Should every family find its own contractor? Or should the city bring in home builders who could mass-produce homes, which would be cheaper and faster?

And along the way, Sherwood said, something remarkable happened: The neighbors, mostly friendly, but often distant, got to know one another better and began to trust and rely on each other.

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Three miles south, in Coffey Park, a similar effort was unfolding. They called the group “Coffey Strong.” They had a website. They held meetings with elected leaders, home builders, city officials.

And then, eight months after the Tubbs fire, another blaze ignited in nearby Lake County. Smoke drifted to Santa Rosa, traumatizing many.

Woods, the woman who summoned folks to her rebuilt home last week as Los Angeles burned, was among those who felt shaken. But she decided to do something about it. She blasted out a message to her neighbors telling them she would be sitting in a camp chair next to the burned-out husk of her home. She would have wine. Everyone was welcome.

Coffey Park residents gather on the street in 2018.

This October 2018 photo shows Coffey Park residents gathering for “Wine Wednesday” as the neighborhood was rebuilding from the Tubbs fire.

(Los Angeles Times)

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A neighborhood tradition was born. They began to meet every Wednesday evening. At first the gatherings took place in the street, amid the rubble. Eventually, as neighbors slowly rebuilt, they gathered for housewarming parties.

“We didn’t have many friends in the neighborhood before this,” said Melissa Geissinger, who was seven months pregnant when her house burned down and endured the trauma of having her newborn baby go through open-heart surgery while the family was displaced.

By 2020, just three years after the fire, more than 80% of the neighborhood homes lost in the fire had been rebuilt and families had moved back in.

Osburn, Santa Rosa’s planning director, said the city played a key role in making that possible. “We made this commitment to the community that we would understand where they were getting stuck and implement creative solutions to remove the impediment,” he said.

That meant a range of actions, including coordinating with state, federal and county officials in the early days of recovery to help people get their feet under them, stripping back discretionary regulations and processing permits within days or hours instead of months.

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The signs from the Tubbs fire are still visible in Santa Rosa for those who know how to read them.

In the Fountaingrove neighborhood, in the hills east of downtown, many replacement homes are still under construction. And some lots are still empty, the grass from winter rains wafting in the wind, along with the sharp echoes of hammers and nail guns.

In Larkfield Estates, Sherwood and his family have moved into their new home. The old walnut tree that used to shade his frontyard has been transformed into an elegant dining room table. Many of his neighbors, also returned, did the same thing with their trees.

In some ways, the neighborhood has more amenities than it did before. It finally got a sewer system so residents could move off septic; the county offered loans at a low interest rate to make it affordable. A new park, which the community is helping to raise funds for, is coming. And there is a new sidewalk on busy Mark West Springs Road so children can more safely walk to school.

But across the street from Sherwood’s gorgeous new house — white with dark trim and cheerful flowers in the frontyard — is still an empty lot, a forlorn swimming pool surrounded by chain-link fencing the only reminder of what used to be. A plastic chair that blew into the pool the night of the fire is still there; the water protected it from the flames, and no one has touched it since.

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An upended plastic chair floats in a pool surrounded by chain-link fencing.

For now, this pool is all that remains of a property lost in the Tubbs fire.

(Paul Kuroda / For The Times)

In Coffey Park, there are still a few houses under construction, but the biggest reminder of fire is in the landscaping: very few big trees, and yard after yard ornamented with rocks and other materials that can’t burn.

At the wine gathering, one person after another said they hoped the people of Los Angeles could take hope from Coffey Park.

Until the fire, said Rackerby, “I lived here for 30 years, and I didn’t know the people across the street.” Now, she said, she feels like she knows everyone. In the months before the local park was refurbished, she opened up her yard as a play area for neighborhood children. She also helped her neighbors make mosaic artwork using scorched jewelry, dishes and other sifted wreckage from their homes — something to memorialize what they had lost.

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Standing nearby was Geissinger, whose son is now a playful 7-year-old. She recently published a young adult novel, “Nothing Left But Dust,” that includes themes about a fire. Coming through the blaze, she said, gave her the courage to pursue her dream of being a writer.

Michelle Poggi, who seven years ago escaped with her husband on foot, walking three miles with their cat through smoke and burning embers, echoed that sense of what’s possible.

“This community really did take something horrible, and it’s kind of like we all found the silver linings where we could,” she said. Her neighbors nodded in agreement.

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How Google’s 32-million mosquito project could change California’s battle against dengue

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How Google’s 32-million mosquito project could change California’s battle against dengue

Google took internet searches to the next level. Could it do the same for mosquito control?

The Silicon Valley-based tech giant is seeking to release up to 64 million sterilized male mosquitoes in California and Florida over two years, according to a notice in the Federal Register. It’s part of an ambitious effort to curb the diseases the insects spread.

Google says it can harness technology to optimize a concept that’s been around for decades, but hasn’t been successfully scaled with mosquitoes to rein in disease.

For example, the process often involves separating the insects by sex to isolate the males. Currently, that’s done manually and can be time consuming. Google says it’s “developing new technologies that combine sensors, algorithms and novel engineering to take advantage of unique aspects of mosquito biology to quickly and accurately sort males from females.”

The company also says it’s building software and monitoring tools to guide releases of sterile males, and its scientists and engineers are creating sensors, traps and software to decide which areas need to be treated and treated again.

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Called Debug, the project targets Aedes aegypti mosquitoes, which are native to Africa but have infiltrated nearly half of California’s counties since first being detected in the state in 2013. Not only do they drive residents nuts with itchy bites, but they can carry a number of potentially serious diseases, including dengue, Zika, chikungunya and yellow fever.

The plan is to infect males — which don’t bite — with a bacteria called Wolbachia, which effectively renders them sterile. They are then released to seek out wild females and mate. Females will lay eggs but these won’t hatch, which experts say drives down the population over time.

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There are other methods to sterilize male mosquitoes. Vector control districts serving Los Angeles, Orange and San Bernardino counties have irradiated males and released them in recent years.

Early results are promising. Two neighborhoods treated by the Greater Los Angeles Vector Control District saw a more than 80% reduction in the female Aedes aegypti population in 2024 and 2025.

But as the Greater L.A. district seeks to expand its operations, cost poses a problem. Last year, business owners signaled they weren’t willing to shell out more every year to make it happen. District officials are still hoping to sway them.

If Google moves forward, it wouldn’t be the first time it has been involved in such an effort. In 2018, the company conducted a large-scale trial in Fresno County, releasing 14.4 million Wolbachia-infected males in three neighborhoods.

“At peak mosquito season, the number of female mosquitoes was 95.5% lower in release areas compared to non-release areas, with the most geographically isolated neighborhood reaching a 99% reduction,” a 2020 paper reported.

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Google has applied for a permit from the Environmental Protection Agency to carry out the releases in California and Florida, for which the federal agency is currently seeking comments before deciding whether to grant approval.

The company aims to release up to 16 million Wolbachia-infected males in California, and the same in Florida, per year for two years, the Federal Register announcement said, for a total of 64 million.

Urgency to tamp down the invasive mosquito population in California has increased since 2023, when the state logged its first locally acquired dengue cases — meaning people were infected in their communities, not while traveling. The following year, the number of locally acquired cases ballooned to 18, with 14 of them in Los Angeles County.

A study published last week in “The Lancet Regional Health — Americas” found that approximately 18.2 million Californians — primarily in the Central Valley, L.A. and San Diego areas — live in regions where conditions are probably suitable for local dengue transmission.

“Under moderate scenarios of climate warming and urban expansion, an additional 4.1 million residents may be at risk by mid-century,” according to the study led by UC Berkeley’s Lisa Couper. Researchers note the current and future risk of transmission remains low except during summer in the Central Valley and Southern California.

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“I’m pretty much in favor of whichever [sterile insect technique] approach gets us the disease prevention and nuisance control we need and at the lowest price,” Susanne Kluh, general manager of the Greater L.A. County Vector Control District, said in an email.

She said her district went with radiation because it was the only approved technique when they wanted to launch their pilot, and that it’s “also the only one where some company does not make a profit in the middle.” However, she wouldn’t rule out using Wolbachia if it turned out to be the most affordable option.

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In a first for the country, voters in Monterey Park ban data centers

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In a first for the country, voters in Monterey Park ban data centers

Residents of Monterey Park voted overwhelmingly to ban data centers on election day, making the San Gabriel Valley city the first in the nation to do so by public vote.

As of Wednesday, 86% of votes were in favor of Measure NDC, the city ban, according to the Los Angeles County registrar-recorder/county clerk.

Other cities and towns have passed moratoriums on data centers, as a wave of opposition sweeps the country. But the Monterey Park vote can only be overturned by another ballot measure, making it the most permanent data center ban in a jurisdiction.

Monterey Park’s City Council had already banned data centers by ordinance, after a proposed 247,000-square-foot data center met an outpouring of public anger and concern. The developer withdrew that plan.

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That facility would have been less than 500 feet away from the nearest home, and would have used three times the electricity of the entire 60,000-person city. Residents said it would have caused noise and air pollution and driven up electricity rates.

“This ensures long-lasting protections for current and future generations,” Amy Wong, co-founder of the group San Gabriel Valley Progressive Action, said of the vote. “It means that future city councils cannot overturn a data center ban, even if data center developers wanted to spend money to fund pro-data center candidates.”

The measure had no formal opposition. The developer of the proposed facility, investment firm HMC StratCap, said it wouldn’t engage in the ballot fight when it withdrew in March.

The Data Center Coalition, an industry trade group, expressed disappointment in the vote.

“It sends a signal that the area is closed for business, both for data centers and for other significant economic development projects,” state policy director Khara Boender said.

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“It deprives local residents of the opportunity to compete for jobs and investment, while also causing the area to relinquish substantial long-term economic investment, high-wage jobs, and critical tax revenue to neighboring areas or other states.”

SGV Progressive Action worked with hyperlocal groups including No Data Center Monterey Park to rally support for the measure.

The group is now focused on stopping data center proposals in the City of Industry and fighting a move by City of Industry, Santa Fe Springs, Vernon and City of Commerce to welcome data centers and other industry with fast-tracked permitting and tax incentives.

City of Industry, in the San Gabriel Valley, and Vernon, south of downtown L.A., are primarily industrial areas, each with around 300 permanent residents. They are employment centers, and tens of thousands of workers commute in daily.

There has been little vocal opposition to data centers among the few residents of these cities. Wong said the protest is primarily coming from the surrounding neighborhoods.

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“If a data center gets built in City of Industry, residents across the region would bear the brunt of pollution and increased utility costs,” Wong said, noting that it is surrounded by 16 other cities and unincorporated communities.

Data center proposals have been limited in California compared to Virginia, Texas, Georgia, Illinois and Arizona, which sit at the center of a recent boom in hyperscaler facilities to power artificial intelligence.

California has the third-most data centers in the country, with 300, but high electricity rates, expensive land and regulatory hurdles mean that fewer, and smaller, facilities are currently planned than in other hotspots.

That doesn’t mean opposition hasn’t been fierce. In Coachella and Imperial County, residents are showing up in droves to protest local proposals.

In the San Gabriel Valley, Montebello, El Monte and Baldwin Park have all enacted temporary moratoriums, and Alhambra recently banned data centers as part of a zoning code update.

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Wong said she hoped the ballot measure vote would galvanize the opposition. “The vote is a testament to the people power of our region,” she said. “Our region is worth protecting, and we won’t let data centers determine our future.”

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Rent-hike ban to protect fire victims ends despite gouging concerns

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Rent-hike ban to protect fire victims ends despite gouging concerns

A rule intended to prevent rent gouging in the wake of the Eaton and Palisades fires has lapsed in Los Angeles County, possibly exposing some renters to hikes.

The executive order that blocked rent increases was issued by Gov. Gavin Newsom amid the devastating wildfires last year. Under the order, landlords couldn’t increase rents by more than 10% above their prefire levels.

The rule, which was supposed to be temporary and was repeatedly extended, ended Friday after a vote to extend it again failed to garner enough votes. Supervisor Lindsey Horvath, whose district includes Pacific Palisades, sounded the alarm in a motion to extend price protections that failed to pass at the Board of Supervisors’ May 19 meeting.

“These price gouging protections continue to be necessary as construction and rebuilding continue, and as thousands of people remain displaced,” the motion said. “Families which signed short-term leases could face drastic price increases of 50% or more without further price gouging protection.”

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Los Angeles County is home to more than 1 million rental properties, though not all of them needed protection from the new rule. There are already stricter rent increase caps for many residences, depending on the location, type and age of the building. Despite the rent control in the region, the people of Los Angeles pay among the highest rents in the country.

It is uncertain whether renters will face rapidly rising rents now that the protection has lapsed. But some real estate experts and policymakers said there was no need for the temporary rule that was part of the governor’s state of emergency.

Supervisors Kathryn Barger, Janice Hahn and Holly Mitchell abstained from voting on the motion to extend the protection, while Supervisors Hilda Solis and Horvath supported it.

“I abstained because I did not see sufficient evidence to justify extending this emergency ordinance, nor did I see evidence to eliminate it entirely,” Hahn said.

Barger’s office said she supported allowing the protections to sunset while waiting to see whether new information emerged.

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“Market data already shows countywide rents are only about 2% above pre-emergency levels and rental inventory has grown,” Barger representative Helen E. Chavez Garcia said. “The Supervisor is also mindful of the burden these ongoing protections place on small property owners throughout the county.”

Mitchell did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

There haven’t been steep rent hikes in neighborhoods within three miles of the Palisades fire, according to a Times analysis of data from Zillow, the property listing company.

In ZIP Codes within three miles of the Palisades fire, rent increased 4.8% from December 2024 to April 2025. In areas around the Eaton fire, which destroyed swaths of Altadena, rent jumped 5.2% in the same period.

In L.A. County, ZIP Codes farther from the fires saw only about a 2% increase.

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A landlords representative, Jesus Rojas of the Apartment Owners Assn. of Greater Los Angeles, told the supervisors during public comment at the meeting that the county’s rent-gouging rules have “long outlived the emergency they were intended to address” and are now being “wrongfully used to harm thousands of rental housing providers throughout the county.”

“There is no proof that multifamily rental housing providers are hugely increasing rents for impacted homeowners,” Rojas said.

Indeed, there are strong signs that the property market in the Los Angeles area has at last begun to cool.

L.A. metro-area rent prices recently fell to a four-year low, with the median rent slipping to $2,167 in December.

Meanwhile, condominium sales had their slowest start of the year in decades. Condo sales in Los Angeles have plummeted to a 20-year low, with fewer than 2,000 units sold in January and February — the worst start to the year since 2005.

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Newsom defended the price-gouging protections shortly after they went into effect.

“In the days following the Los Angeles firestorms, we worked quickly to protect Los Angeles survivors from any form of exploitation,” he said in February 2025. “The state has the tools in place to not only block price gouging during this emergency, but also to prosecute bad actors.”

The Los Angeles County Department of Consumer and Business Affairs said it received more than 2,000 complaints after the fires, alleging that retailers and landlords were taking advantage of people put in hardship by their losses, and sent out more than 2,000 cease-and-desist letters to businesses and landlords for alleged price gouging, said Morine Merritt, who oversees department investigations into consumer and real estate fraud.

“Close to 90% of the complaints that we received involved allegations of rent increases,” Merritt said in an interview. Now that the fire-related protections have expired, existing laws and “regular market conditions determine price increases for goods and services, including rents,” she said.

Crackdowns on fire-related rent gouging have been rare, said Chelsea Kirk of the activist organization the Rent Brigade, which analyzed L.A. County’s rental market in the year after the fires. It reported 18,360 potential examples of price gouging in listings but said that few lawsuits had been filed by authorities so far.

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Last week, Rent Brigade announced what it said was the first private civil lawsuit brought by a family that claimed to be rent-gouged in the aftermath of the wildfires. Plaintiffs Randall and Candy Renick, whose Altadena home was damaged, said they were charged nearly three times the maximum permitted rate for nearly 10 months. They seek restitution of $96,000 plus civil penalties and attorneys’ fees.

The rental market has probably stabilized since the fires, Kirk said, but other families may still be “locked into illegal rents” that they agreed to pay when they were in a rush to find housing after they were displaced.

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