Michelle See wants to get her two sons Nintendo Switches. Also, my mother’s cancer medication, my 9-year-old’s EpiPen, and a family photo album. But mainly Switch.
She and her husband, Bendick, had just 20 minutes to pack their car and evacuate as the Palisades Fire ripped through their Pacific Palisades mansion Tuesday night.
They grabbed Michelle’s Kindle, Bendick’s laptop, some important documents, and the boys’ stuffed animals and Pokemon cards and headed to a relative’s house in Cerritos.
“I thought they would cry if I didn’t save their Pokemon cards,” Michelle, 42, said.
On Friday, the couple left their children with Michelle’s parents and drove an hour from Cerritos to Santa Monica. Their goal was to recover belongings from the home of them and their parents, who are in their 70s. Neighbors say that while many of the surrounding houses have been reduced to rubble, her parents are still standing.
They were among the many Pacific Palisades residents turned away this week at checkpoints surrounding the evacuation zone that has expanded across much of the neighborhood and surrounding areas.
On Wednesday and most of Thursday, people said the lockdown had eased significantly, with many displaced families able to access the area on foot, by bicycle or by e-bike. By Friday, even pedestrians were prohibited from entering.
Friday’s increased security came a day after police said 20 people were arrested on suspicion of looting homes in a wildfire zone in Los Angeles County.
The Sy family arrived in Santa Monica in a blue minivan shortly before 2 p.m. and headed to the California Incline. Within seconds, Santa Monica police officers said they could not proceed onto the ramp connecting Ocean Boulevard and Pacific Coast Highway.
“Hello, we are residents. Can we get some medicine?” Bendick, 46, shouted from the van window.
“Not now,” the officer barked back, telling him to park and walk back if he wanted to talk further.
They returned to the Incline and spoke with two members of the National Guard.
“Local residents are not allowed to drive in. Only firefighters, police and some media outlets are allowed,” one person said. “But anyone is actually free to walk there.”
Santa Monica Police Department spokeswoman Erika Aklufi said police increased security at checkpoints Wednesday and Thursday because they “couldn’t handle the volume of people” trying to enter the burn zone. The goal was to “herd” people into LAPD-managed checkpoints, where they could request police escort to their homes.
“I don’t think you realize how much of a problem we have with people trying to break in,” she said. “It was never meant to be punitive. It was just trying to manage a really chaotic situation.”
Los Angeles Police Department Sergeant Hector Guzman said residents can go to any of seven checkpoints between 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. and be escorted to retrieve essential items. The locations are: Sunset Boulevard and Kenter Avenue, Sunset Boulevard and Kenter Avenue, Sunset Boulevard and Pacific Coast Highway, Sunset Boulevard and Amalfi Drive, Temescal Canyon Road and Pacific Coast Highway, and Channel Road. and Pacific Coast Highway, Amalfi Drive and Channel Road.
The Siths had no interest in walking eight miles over burning hills to their home and then walking five miles back with their belongings. So they staked their claim on the streets of Santa Monica, trying to find an angle where they could drive through a makeshift checkpoint. They talked about the medicine they needed, their important belongings, and their belief that they should be allowed to return to their homes as residents.
“My house is still there,” Bendick begged. “So I’m actually worried about the looters.”
No luck. Troopers said Santa Monica police were not allowing anyone through.
They headed to a checkpoint near the Brentwood Country Mart, but even before they got there, it was clear they wouldn’t make it. No one else seemed to. They didn’t even try.
“It’s so sad that I almost broke my heart yesterday,” Michelle said as she sat in the van thinking about her next move. “I was hoping to get some of my things today and some of the things on Jacob’s list,” she added, speaking of her 13-year-old son.
“He wants his books and trophies,” Bendick said, reading a handwritten wanted list that Jacob had asked him to retrieve. “He wants to get a black belt, but he doesn’t even have a dojo anymore.”
Some other residents were not so easily deterred. Some who chose to walk up the PCH tried their luck by hitchhiking in the few cars that were able to get into the evacuation zone.
Even when you arrive in Pacific Palisades, your journey isn’t over.
A family trying to check on a relative’s home was turned away by Los Angeles police officers guarding the winding street because they didn’t have identification with a local address. Residents waited in lines, some having to wait hours for official escort.
At a checkpoint on Sunset Boulevard, a crowd voiced alarm. One couple tried to break through on their bicycles, but were unsuccessful. Another couple tried to walk, ignoring police blocking the road.
“We live there!” yelled resident Ivo Venkov, waving at LAPD officers.
It didn’t matter. He and his wife, Rossi, were told to put their names on a list and wait their turn, but they quickly learned that the process could take hours.
“The problem is that people are saying they need to get drugs,” the officer explained to the crowd. “But they’re getting inside and grabbing everything.”
It’s hard to blame them. Everyone fled with only a few of their belongings as the flames approached their homes.
“It was like a medieval depiction of hell,” Venkov said of the evacuation. “Dante, Bosch, whatever.”
One woman waited patiently for an hour and a half to see if she had a home. The answer was right around the bend, about 300 yards from where she was standing.
“We’re doing the best we can with one small pickup truck and two employees,” said Juan Fregoso, district director for Los Angeles City Councilman Tracy Park, whose district includes the Pacific Palisades, and who was helping set up the checkpoint. spoke.
Matt Mass, 16, knew his home was still standing thanks to surveillance cameras inside. He had walked from Santa Monica with his cousin, 17-year-old Asher Saraf, to get drugs from their home for his younger brother. After being told it might take several hours, and with the 6pm curfew approaching, he gave up.
Beyond the checkpoint and further up into the sunset, there was little sign of the residents who called the neighborhood home.
The Palisades looks more like a ghost town than ever, and checkpoints are at their strictest since the fires. The streets had an eerie, barren feel, and were almost entirely occupied by emergency workers and news crews.
Another 16-year-old, Jack, who made the trek Friday but declined to give his last name, was one of the few exceptions. He and a friend turned off their phones and made the eventful two-hour journey from Santa Monica to find their laptop. The constant emergency alerts have become bothersome, he said.
“When we were stopped by the police, we just said OK and walked backwards and found another route,” he said.
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