Inside the hell of East Palestine: Unanswered questions, frustration and the lingering threat of toxic chemicals

EAST PALESTINE, Ohio — As the wind picked up here, on Wednesday, several thousand residents joined public officials, law enforcement officers and members of various news media in a long line leading to the local high school, where a highly anticipated town hall meeting awaited.

By that point — 12 days after a Norfolk Southern train ran off the tracks on the east side of town, prompting an evacuation and a controlled burn of vinyl chloride, and dispersing a wave of other toxic chemicals into the environment — the 4,700 residents of this village were eager to translate that nightmare into plain English. Is their drinking water safe? Will their pets be all right? Will this disaster have any long-term health impacts on the population?

These are straightforward questions with complicated answers.

The residents of East Palestine and nearby communities are trying to square their lived experience — the evacuation, the sight of the toxic plume, the cloying odor drifting through the village — with public health officials’ insistence that the air and water is safe and contaminant-free as of now. Put simply, these families do not know how to plan for the near- or long-term future, and, in an already tenuous economic environment in rural Ohio, that level of uncertainty is a major problem. Even the basic question of who to trust is up for debate. In the midst of this calamity, who’s at the wheel?

Outside the high school, as the crowd shuffled forward an inch at a time, East Palestine residents Cory and Dawn White traded stories with others in line. They were coming to this meeting in search of clarity about a lot of things — about the water quality, yes, but also about the nuances of soil sampling and about the recovery plans for the city. But, like anyone in attendance at the town hall that night could attest, nailing down an answer to most any question — health-related, environment-related, finance-related, you name it — is no easy task.

“That’s the scary part,” Cory said. “Nobody knows what’s going to happen, and no one can give you answers.”

The original plan for the evening had been a traditional town hall. But railway operator Norfolk Southern had urged Mayor Trent Conaway and his team to set up tables for various local and state agencies, letting a single file of residents filter through and ask questions directly, discreetly. Then, Norfolk Southern decided not to show up at all, citing “the growing physical threat to our employees and members of the community around this event stemming from the increasing likelihood of the participation of outside parties.” This did not go over well.

As the gymnasium filled up, Conaway, himself clearly fatigued by the passing days, picked up a bullhorn and addressed the packed gym.

“We’re here for answers,” he told the crowd. “The railroad did us wrong. So far, they’re working with us.” But he warned that if Norfolk Southern drops the ball and skirts accountability, he will be the “first in line to fight” for his community. Flanked by state officials and a U.S. congressman, Conaway attempted to answer a barrage of residents’ questions, including:

• Why was the evacuation zone only a 1-mile radius? East Palestine Fire Chief Keith Drabick confirmed that this was based on the Department of Transportation Emergency Response Guidebook, most recently updated in 2020.
• What is the timeline and scope of water and air testing? U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and Ohio EPA officials confirmed that testing is ongoing; the response is presently in the “emergency phase,” which will soon give way to the “remediation phase,” with air and water quality monitoring taking place throughout. “The remediation phase will take as long as it takes,” Ohio EPA Director Anne Vogel said. “We’ll be here as long as it takes.” (Further questions about specific testing plans submitted by Grid were not answered by the Ohio EPA as of Friday.)
• What is killing the fish in the area? Kurt Kollar, an environmental specialist with the Ohio EPA, did say that high concentrations of butyl acrylate made their way into local water sources, like Leslie Run and Sulphur Run. The sheer concentration of that chemical led to the die-off, estimated at some 3,500 fish, according to the state, but Kollar insisted that the amount now found in the water is nearly undetectable and not a going concern for human consumption.
• Is the drinking water safe? Should residents even be washing their clothes in the local water? The village has maintained that no contaminants have been found in the municipal wells, but Ohio Health Director Bruce Vanderhoff has encouraged residents on two occasions to drink bottled water.

But there was little that anyone could do or say to soothe the simmering tension in the room. The central conceit that there is nothing wrong with the air or water quality, as confirmed by published air monitoring and water sampling tests from the Ohio EPA, leaves little room for residents to push back on the narrative. People spoke of rashes, headaches, nausea. People mentioned pets and livestock falling ill. One man insisted that he drove through a strange gas on State Route 170 that “nearly killed” him.

If everyone in public office is saying that nothing is wrong, the residents of East Palestine argued, then why does so much seem wrong about the situation in their tiny community?

The event

Cory and Dawn White were sitting in the living room of their East Palestine home the day after the crash, still shaken by it, when they both began tasting something funny in the air. It reminded Cory of the sickly sweet barium sulfate that a patient might drink the night prior to a CT scan. Something was suddenly amiss. They decided it was time to get out of the house.

The next morning, on Feb. 5, Republican Gov. Mike DeWine issued a formal evacuation order, which was expanded further on Feb. 6. The evacuation zone included the Whites’ home; by then, the couple had decamped to Darlington, Pennsylvania, the town to the east where Cory had grown up.

Public officials had learned that the derailment included 11 cars’ worth of toxic chemicals — including various butyl acrylates, ethylene glycol (the main component of antifreeze) and five cars filled with vinyl chloride, a toxic compound linked to a form of liver cancer known as hepatic angiosarcoma. Those chemicals were either burning, leaking into the ground or venting into the air. The derailment site was highly unstable. Families were urged away; many pets, including the Whites’ two cats, were left behind.

Norfolk Southern planned a controlled release and burn of the vinyl chloride around 3:30 p.m. on Feb. 6 — a critical moment for the village. “Based on current weather patterns and the expected flow of the smoke and fumes, anyone who remains in the red affected area is facing grave danger of death,” DeWine’s office wrote. “Anyone who remains in the yellow impacted area is at a high risk of severe injury, including skin burns and serious lung damage.”

Railway responders dug trenches around the tankers and lit flares, igniting the highly toxic chemical and generating an astonishing black plume; images circulated nationwide. Depending on which photo you’re looking at, you can see the Whites’ house sitting quietly on West Martin Street against an apocalyptic backdrop. As photos made their way onto the internet, Dawn realized with a shock that she was looking at her own street when she noticed the tree in their front yard.

The fate of that black plume and its chemical constituents is at the root of this story. Given what we know about vinyl chloride — that it is a lethal chemical that releases hydrogen chloride and phosgene when combusted — the village’s recurring questions revolve around the effects of that controlled burn. But with responsibility scattered across multiple state and federal agencies, information has been hard to come by, even for the mayor.

The water supply

East Palestine Water Superintendent Scott Wolfe has said that the village’s five public wells have not shown any detectable amounts of volatile organic compounds. Columbiana County Health Commissioner Wes Vins confirmed this at the Wednesday town hall. Vins noted that at least 29 private wells were tested by Thursday. “There is no indication of contamination,” he said.

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