LOS ANGELES—When Romeo Centeño moved his family to Val Verde 14 years ago, he was drawn to the tranquility of the area—a hamlet in the hills at the northwestern edge of Los Angeles County, about 50 miles north of downtown Los Angeles. It was a safe place to raise his children, then 10 and 14.
“This is such a great area. It is a quiet, rural area where you can still see deer all over the place, you see rabbits, all kinds of wild animals. It’s such a beautiful place,” Centeño told The Epoch Times.
But now, the former USPS mailman says he is trapped in his house—held captive by poisonous odors from the adjacent Chiquita Canyon Landfill.
“Before in the summer, we were able to leave the door open to get some fresh air. That was 10 years ago. Now you have to lock yourself in your own house, like a prisoner. You cannot even open your window—you can’t leave any gap, because it will penetrate the house.”
He calls the noxious odors and cancer-causing chemicals released from an ongoing chemical reaction at the nearby landfill the “invisible enemy.” In the summer, he said, “this place is a living hell.”
Even on bright, clear days, he knows better. “Like today, it’s an inviting day to go out. But as soon as you do, even if you don’t smell it, you know it. You start itching, sneezing. Out of nowhere—boom, it’s like someone is burping right in your face.”
The landfill maintains that any chemicals of concern have been stabilized by ongoing mitigation efforts, and that recent sampling suggests no anticipated toxicological or health impacts—but rather that symptoms can be explained by physiological reactions to fleeting odors, or even psychological ones.
Such does not align with the experience of residents like Centeño, who say they continue to suffer acute and chronic symptoms and often have to remain indoors.
Many want to see the landfill closed, which might happen soon if county officials don’t extend the company’s operating permit. Waste Connections, based in Texas, sued the county over a 2017 agreement and settled in 2022; now it’s threatening to sue again if forced to close.
Community members have organized to oppose the gradual expansion of the landfill for decades.
But even if it closes, operators estimate a chemical reaction at the site believed to be responsible for the increase in off-gases—which is confined to a section that has been dormant for decades—could take anywhere from two years to a decade to resolve.
A Mysterious ‘Oxidation Event’
The problem stems from an “oxidation event” deep beneath the surface of the landfill that, at least since 2022, has been smoldering at high temperatures, building pressure, growing in size—and churning out inordinate amounts of leachate, a polluted liquid that forms as rainwater filters through decomposing waste.In December 2023, leachate production increased to more than a million gallons per week, according to the EPA.
As a result, harmful levels of volatile organic compounds (VOCs), including carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulfide, and benzene have been released, endangering residents.
In 2023, complaints about “sour,” “non-trash” odors skyrocketed from residents in surrounding communities, some as far as five miles away. Most were from Val Verde residents like Centeño, who live in the landfill’s “back patio,” as he puts it, closest to the reaction area.
In February, the state’s Department of Toxic Substances Control issued various violations to the landfill, including for unauthorized disposal, storage, and treatment of hazardous waste, and for failing to minimize its possible impacts, and the L.A. Department of Public Health declared the landfill a public nuisance due to elevated levels of benzene and carbon tetrachloride. Also in February, the EPA issued a Unilateral Administrative Order requiring Chiquita Canyon to reduce odors and manage the hazardous waste stemming from the reaction.
Following hundreds of violations from a tangle of state and local regulatory agencies, the EPA in June issued a Finding of Violation to the company for continuing to violate the Clean Air Act.
Angry residents have since taken aim at county officials during public meetings, in particular L.A. County Supervisor Kathryn Barger, who represents the area. While some legislators have called for an emergency declaration at the county level, Barger’s office maintains such is not required for the state or federal government to proclaim one.
Gov. Gavin Newsom denied a request in late October, with Office of Emergency Services Director Nancy Ward saying in a response letter to legislators that a state of emergency wouldn’t help and wasn’t necessary for the deployment of state resources or a federal response.
State and federal authorities are already involved as part of a multi-agency task force under direction of the EPA.
The escalating crisis has pitted state and U.S. legislators against county authorities, who are tasked with permitting, issuing violations and general on-the-ground oversight and enforcement. Rep. Mike Garcia (D-Calif.) at an Oct. 28 community meeting criticized the multi-agency task forces as ineffective “alphabet soups” that create an illusion of action at the county level.
But Jackie Kruger, lead attorney representing Centeño and more than 1,000 other residents, says a state of emergency—at all levels—is imperative to help clients who are stuck in their homes, their assets tied up in their mortgages.
“Number one is immediately it could prevent a homeowner from having to pay their fees, if it stays the mortgage,” she told The Epoch Times, noting that money could go to rental payments outside the area. It would also allow some residents to use insurance money to move and allow children missing school and receiving truancy notices the opportunity to attend virtually, she said.
‘Under Control’
During recent community meetings hosted by Waste Connections on Oct. 10 and Nov. 7, landfill representatives offered progress updates, pointing to the installation of more than 40 acres of a geosynthetic cover to blanket the odors, and more than 250 new or replacement wells, which are used to remove gas and liquid from the reactive area.“We believe it’s stable, under control,” Waste Connections District Manager Steve Cassulo said of the reaction, and of the liquids being pumped out.
Cassulo pointed to the fact that in October, the company was pulling out around 200,000 to 250,000 gallons per day, a similar amount as when it had a fraction of the pumps installed. “That’s a good sign this reaction will be getting under control soon.” Temperature monitors in the reactive areas and around the perimeter also show stability, with no increases across several months, he said.
Neal Bolton, a civil engineer and landfill expert contracted by Chiquita Canyon, testified at a Nov. 13 Air Quality Management District hearing about the elimination of odors in remediation areas that had been completed, as well as a gradual decrease in leachate seeps and leaks, with gushers reduced to “relatively small” leaks of a few gallons in problem areas.
“What we’ve seen is very positive, that we have reduced the number of seeps overall ... there are progressively fewer and fewer and that trend is continuing,” Bolton said.
The geothermal membrane—a white, heat-protectant plastic cover Chiquita Canyon installed over 46 acres of reactive area—is expected to make a significant dent in odorous emissions when completed, sometime this month.
Once the top cover is fully installed, Bolton explained, it will be welded together with a liner at the bottom of the landfill to seal the edges together.
“That’s the source of our odor right now,” he said, “that edge that has not been connected.”
An emailed inquiry from The Epoch Times to the company with detailed questions about the reaction and mitigation efforts went unanswered.
Chiquita Canyon has continued to report hazardous leachate leaks and seepage including numerous events in October and November.
While elevated levels of hazardous compounds have been found in leachate and air samples, the county and the landfill say there is currently no evidence suggesting exposure to them will cause adverse health impacts.
Hydrogen sulfide exposure can cause headaches, sinus issues, eye irritation, respiratory and neurological issues, as well as nausea and depression, while benzene can impact the immune system, bone marrow and red blood cell production. Long-term exposure to high levels of benzene can cause leukemia.
According to results from an independent report released by the county in February, two VOCs, benzene and carbon tetrachloride, were found to be elevated in continuous air monitoring of the area, suggesting a “there may be a small contribution of benzene” from the landfill impacting air quality.
The 28-day study determined only hydrogen sulfide was found in levels that would warrant further assessment of adverse health effects, in part due to a single, “unusually high” detection on March 13, with headache and nausea identified as potential symptoms at the three highest detected concentrations over the course of the study.
In other words, the report found air in the communities surrounding a landfill spewing hundreds of thousands of gallons of toxic liquid and gases is no worse than the air in the rest of Los Angeles.
Critics say this comes down to a misrepresentation of the data, as averages of randomly spot-checked samples end up being below or at background levels for the LA County basin—but occlude the fact that the gasses are coming off in waves, which residents experience as intermittent spikes.
Representatives for Kruger Law Firm said they have hired experts to do their own sampling, including inside people’s homes, which they believe will contradict the county’s claims about air quality in the area.
Downplaying Health Risks?
The Southern California Air Quality Management District Board (AQMD) recently issued an updated order requiring the landfill to comply with a stricter set of 15 measures to reduce odors and mitigate impacts on the community.At the Nov. 13 hearing, witnesses for both the District and the landfill presented findings from recent sampling that appeared to conflict and which some board members said was confusing.
“I think Chiquita Canyon is doing the technical part the best it can to control odors but downplayed the health risk,” said hearing board member Mohan Balagopalan, suggesting health risk analysis should be conducted quarterly based on new data.
Lawrence Israel, an enforcement and compliance inspector with AQMD, testified the district had been averaging about 1,500 to 2,000 complaints per month in 2024 and issuing around 20 notices of violation to the landfill each month.
As the landfill excavated a site as part of a mitigation effort on the west side of the reaction area, there had been a “tremendous” increase in odor complaints, he said, but those have subsided as it winds down. But he also pointed to seasonal wind conditions as a factor in reduced odor complaints. “Mother Nature is playing a role.”
Stephen Dutz, lab manager for the district’s monitoring and analysis division, reported recent air quality “grab” samples—in which air is collected at a specific time and place and analyzed for contaminants of interest—found benzene and acrolein to be above expected background levels. At least one sample neared the federal government’s acute reference exposure limit.
“It definitely warrants further investigation,” Dutz said, also pointing to off-site monitors around the landfill where benzene had reached the acute one-hour reference exposure level established by both the state and federal government.
“What we’re seeing up here at Chiquita Canyon is above the background levels we observed during MATES V at the Burbank Station,” he said, referring to the district’s most recent toxic air monitoring study across the L.A. Basin.
Toxicologists called as witnesses by Chiquita Canyon testified they found no risks of adverse health impacts in their analyses of exposures to the odorants.
“Concentrations of the chemicals we found were not above the health-protected values” said Dr. Pablo Sanchez-Soria, noting they were in line with background levels found in the environment across the basin.
Sanchez-Soria’s report found no adverse health impacts, such as disease development or cancer were anticipated, but did find Office of Environmental Health Hazard Assessment reference levels for hydrogen sulfide were exceeded, over the course of a single day, in about one percent of samples, which he concluded could possibly result in headaches and nausea for residents.
He also said there was no evidence that longer term exposure to hydrogen sulfide at these levels would lead to damage; rather, the symptoms are driven by exposure then go away, with no delayed onset symptoms.
And where L.A. Public Health identified both carbon tetrachloride and benzene as drivers of cancer risk, Sanchez-Soria said his analysis actually found higher levels of carbon tetrachloride further away from the landfill.
Testimony from another expert for the landfill, Dr. Richard Pleus, focused on how odors impact the olfactory system and brain to produce physiological reactions, which he differentiated from toxicological health impacts.
Notably, Pleus’s investigation did not find any samples of odorants that exceeded irritation thresholds. Rather, he said, odors at levels below toxic levels were stimulating a physiological effect.
“It’s not a health effect at all. This is a normal physiological effect.”
Echoing messaging from the L.A. County Department of Health, he reiterated that a psychological component may help explain the gap between what people in the community are reporting and what the data shows.
“There’s the idea that things that smell bad are causing potential toxicity,” even when they aren’t, he said, suggesting unpleasant sulfur compounds may trigger such when people are aware of the source.
He recommended residents try to limit their exposure by going inside when smells arise, and closing their doors and windows.
Balagopalan took issue with the landfill experts’ presentation of data, and what he saw as downplaying residents’ experience.
“Just suck it up, stay in doors ... go to the beach or something. Is that what you’re trying to tell the community?” he asked.
He pointed to the fact that residents are “definitely” exposed to components that exceed notification levels set by the district.
“The community is experiencing this, you cannot downplay it,” he said, noting thousands of complaints “overwhelming” the agency.
‘Going on for Decades’
When Steven Howse moved to Val Verde with his wife in 1998, he was told the adjacent landfill—the border of which sits about 900 feet from his property—would be closing.“That’s why I bought my house, we were told that at the end of 20 years, it would close no matter what. They had a contract with the community.”
Chiquita Canyon was slated to close when it reached 23 million tons, or November 2019—whichever came first. But in 2016 the landfill began negotiating with the county to stay open for another 30 years, and to nearly triple the tonnage limit to 60 million.
“All I know is I saw someone dumping black smelly stuff at the landfill. They had a guy in a painter’s suit. They’ve been caught before taking sludge, which can cause underground fires, and waste from oil drilling,” he wrote.
“When you start seeing a whole lot of these ‘minor’ things, and the problems we’re having now, it just makes you wonder,” Howse said.
The reaction at Chiquita Canyon is occurring deep underground in a section of the landfill that has been dormant for three decades. But Lynne Plambeck, president of Santa Clarita Organization for Planning and the Environment, a volunteer organization involved in the landfill issue since 1995, says residents have long claimed dumping continued on top of the old cell.
“This has been going on for decades, it’s just gotten worse—much worse,” she told The Epoch Times.
Plambeck suggested radioactive waste, soils with VOCs, or the mixing of certain compounds like ash and auto shredder waste, could cause or contribute to the current chemical reaction, but said, “Nobody really knows.”
A spokesperson for the EPA said the agency could not speculate about potential causes of the reaction, and that efforts were currently focused on mitigation.
After years of battling over issues at Chiquita, trust remains low in the community. Both Howse and Plambeck suggested operators were able to hide behind a facade of a model, “odorless” landfill for years because verifying odor complaints was impeded by the fact that inspectors were dispatched from hours away; now the process is easier.
At the same time, Chiquita Canyon failed to comply with requirements to install equipment in the community to monitor VOCs.
“When all of this started and people are really, really getting sick, there’s still no air monitoring equipment. ... If [the county] can’t enforce the conditions to protect the community, what business do they have permitting the project?” Plambeck asked.
When an intrepid resident discovered Chiquita Canyon had already reached its tonnage limit in 2015, the county granted an addendum to continue operating.
“They didn’t even circulate it to anyone, and they just allowed them to go ahead and violate the terms of the first [agreement],” said Plambeck.
In 2017, the L.A. County Board of Supervisors voted unanimously to grant the expansion despite protests from residents and environmental advocates.
As the expansion approached, residents were already complaining about cancer clusters and odors.
Howse, a former president of the Val Verde Civic Association and member of a community advisory committee overseeing the landfill, had for years been complaining of trash smells. He described years of gaslighting, in which landfill managers would tell him the flowers growing next to his home were causing the smell, or a neighbor’s septic tank—or the bins lining the streets before trash day.
But then, he said, everything changed around two or three years ago.
“What’s happening now is not just odors. It’s something way beyond that. It’s physically making you sick.”
Howse said he got a “serious eye-opener” at a recent meeting when EPA representatives handed out a sheet on benzene poisoning. “I read this sheet and about started crying. Looking at it, my wife and kids have almost every symptom of benzene poisoning. And they’re saying there are low levels at the landfill.”
Like Centeño, Howse fell in love with the area—the view, the quietness. “It’s kind of tucked away, but you can be in downtown L.A. in 45 minutes. I love the people, everything about it,” he said.
Now, those people are perpetually sickened. “When you start talking to other neighbors,” he said, you find the symptoms are the same—coughing, headaches and nausea. My son has nosebleeds. My wife has walked out and vomited—it’s instant.” Several neighbors have tremors.
“When I look at my house, my closest neighbors—there are seven people I’m personally aware of that either have or had cancer. And one of them is my wife.”
Centeño used to have seasonal allergies; now he has asthma, which he said left him no choice but to go on disability and retire from his job delivering mail.
“I’m at the point where I have to have different inhalers and pills, even a nebulizer. I’m on a bunch of medication that I didn’t have to use before.”
Over the years, Centeño said, his son was treated for severe allergies, and his daughter and wife ended up in the emergency room several times for headaches, nausea, and allergies.
“As a family, we’ve been suffering. And so has my neighbor—it’s not a coincidence that he has a whole bunch of medications very similar to mine. And so many neighbors—basically the entire community in this neighborhood.”
Before authorities dropped flyers on his doorstep notifying him of the crisis, he thought his septic system might be the problem.
“We spent $25,000 and replaced the whole system. We have a completely sealed system but the problem is still here.”
Kruger, the attorney, dismissed the landfill’s mitigation efforts as insufficient.
“Poking holes and hoping that works is not adequate. There needs to be top-of-the-line experts on the ground who know how to deal with these types of situations, but they have not invested in that,” she said.
As a whole, she said, Chiquita Canyon’s efforts seem to be counterproductive.
“Everything they’ve done seems to have increased the reaction. So they’ve created this situation in which it appears to be getting worse, not better.”
As investigations related to the lawsuit proceed, she said she expects to find impacts pre-dating the emergence of the odors.
“My theory is that there’s a good chance we’re going to see health conditions that were exacerbated or created from before the smell. A year or two prior, because this landfill was emitting toxic gases before the smell became apparent to people,” she said. “I think there’s an exponential increase in all kinds of problems.”
Kruger said her current efforts are focused on residents’ loss of use of their property—“they’re trapped in a toxic death camp. These people are stuck and it’s a dire situation.”
Despite spending several million per quarter on mitigation efforts at Chiquita Canyon, Waste Connections has exceeded growth projections during the crisis, with $8 billion in revenue in 2023, up 11.2 percent over the previous year. Revenue in the third quarter in 2024 was $2.3 billion, with the total for the year projected at $8.9 billion.
In an email to The Epoch Times, Michael Brogan, a representative for the EPA, noted while an original multi-agency task force achieved its “on-scene objective of stabilizing site conditions” and has now changed names, the same agencies are still continuing to “hold the landfill accountable for addressing the onsite and offsite impacts of the reaction and to protect human health and the environment.”
The bottom line, he continued, is that “the same agencies that have been engaged will remain engaged. We are not going anywhere.”
A similar smoldering event began in 2010 at a landfill in Bridgeton, Missouri, a thousand feet from where thousands of tons of radioactive waste from the Manhattan Project had been illegally dumped.
As of 2022, officials reported odor emissions had “substantially reduced,” and the state’s final report on health impacts determined exposure to sulfur-based compounds, like hydrogen sulfide, may have aggravated existing respiratory conditions, but breathing other chemicals was not expected to harm health—and that estimated cancer risks from living and breathing VOCs near the landfill were similar to risks of living in other urban environments in the country.
This year, an investigation found that a federal agency working in an advisory role to the EPA had downplayed harms and relied on faulty research.
For Centeño, closing the Chiquita landfill would be a first step, and would provide peace of mind.
“Obviously it’s not going to end the problem right away. It’s going to take time. The contamination is already under the soil. We’ve been here for a quite a while and prices in California are very expensive. You don’t have the financial ability to say, OK, I’m just going somewhere else. Especially when you have a family.”
Howse would also like to see the landfill close and to move his family away from the area he loves, but he can’t afford it.
The other reason he hasn’t left, he said, is a moral one.
“I can’t afford to walk away from my house. I need to sell the house—which will inevitably mean to a lower-income family, first-time homebuyers or a young family. They’ll be like, ‘awesome, a great deal.’ So my wife and I don’t feel that’s right. We don’t want anyone else to be in the position we’re in now.”
He added, “I don’t believe they will actually shut down. I think they’ll find some loophole.”
