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Five of the 24 people reported to have died in the fires raging around Los Angeles lived within blocks of each other, in a close-knit Altadena neighborhood near the eastern portion of the city.
The area abutted Angeles National Forest, and residents said many people had lived there for generations, handing down homes they bought decades ago and that they had meticulously kept up.
Two of the dead, a father and his son, who had cerebral palsy, had called for help evacuating, but none came. One of the victims was found near a garden hose he had been using to spray his house as the fire bore down.
At least 24 people total have been reported dead across Los Angeles County, according to the Los Angeles County Medical Examiner’s Office. Among them, 16 people died in the Eaton fire in the east, and eight in the Palisades fire near the coast.
The dead also included a hang-glider, a surfer and a former child star from Australia.
Here is what we know about some of the victims:
Anthony and Justin Mitchell
Anthony Mitchell, 68, lived with his sons Justin and Jordan, both in their thirties, in a family home handed down for two generations.
Justin had cerebral palsy, and Jordan cared for both his brother and his father, who was also experiencing health problems. But earlier in the week, Jordan had gone to the hospital with his own health issue, a case of sepsis, leaving the two of them alone.
Another son, Anthony Mitchell Jr., 46, said he got a call from his father at 5 a.m. on Wednesday, saying that he was waiting with Justin to be evacuated. Later that day, Mr. Mitchell called his daughter, Hajime White, who lives in Arkansas, and told her a fire had broken out across the street.
He said he was sure help would arrive soon. By 8 p.m. that night, he and Justin were both found dead.
“I felt the system let them down,” Mr. Mitchell Jr. said. “I think the system that handled the people who died up there let them down.”
Mr. Mitchell was a fixture in the community, his son said, always checking in with the neighborhood children to see how they were getting on in school and giving them advice.
“My dad was just one of those people,” Mr. Mitchell Jr. said. “You would meet him and he would make friends with you real quick.”
Mr. Mitchell worked in sales for Radio Shack before getting a degree to work as a respiratory therapist, his son said. But eventually he quit and went back to sales after seeing too many patients die.
His wife died in October, and his first wife, Mr. Mitchell Jr.’s mother, died just last month. He struggled with both deaths, his son said.
“My dad was going through a lot, but he always held on,” he said.
In his neighborhood, Mr. Mitchell was known for his skills on the grill, his son said. Any gathering on the block led to a request for Mr. Mitchell to work the barbecue. He always happily obliged.
Justin loved coloring, watching cartoons and reading books, his brother Anthony said.
“You couldn’t help but love him,” Mr. Mitchell Jr. said. “And if he thought you were sad, he’d be like ‘You’ll be okay!’”
Victor Shaw
Victor Shaw’s tiled-roof house sat on Monterosa Drive, a cul-de-sac near the edge of the forest.
After the evacuation call went out late Tuesday night, one of Mr. Shaw’s neighbors, Willie Jackson, 81, packed his car, grabbing whatever belongings he could from the home where he had lived since the 1970s and left. So did other neighbors.
But not Mr. Shaw, 66, who had lived on Monterosa beginning in childhood. He remained behind, doing what his father before him had always done — maintaining the family home.
“The house had a whole lot of significance for him,” said Mr. Jackson, a retired county employee. “His parents had always had it.”
Mr. Jackson moved to Monterosa Drive in the 1970s. When he got there, Mr. Shaw’s parents, Frank and Freddye Shaw, were already in the neighborhood. “In those days, the homes were costing $50,000,” Mr. Jackson said. “Now they’re over a million, $2 million.”
Mr. Jackson said Mr. Shaw’s father had taken meticulous care of the family’s home. “He used to always encourage me, you know, ‘We got to keep our neighborhood looking good,’” he said.
“He and I focused on maintaining our house,” he added. “He’d be out there sweeping and cleaning up. I’d be out there too.”
When Mr. Shaw’s parents died, they left the home in a trust to him and his sister, Shari Shaw.
Mr. Shaw, who Mr. Jackson said never married, drove a bloodmobile and later made contract deliveries. “He was hard working,” Mr. Jackson said. “He was a great neighbor, always, like his father, working, maintaining the yard.”
Shari Shaw evacuated and her brother stayed, saying he was determined to protect the house, according to news reports. She could not be reached on Thursday.
After the fire passed, Mr. Jackson’s son, William Jackson Jr., came to help his father survey the damage, and found a relative of Mr. Shaw’s walking up to the house to look for him.
They started to call his name, “thinking maybe he’s injured, knocked unconscious from some debris, or something,” the younger Mr. Jackson said. They found him lying in his front yard clutching a garden hose, with a gutter pipe laid over his left arm. “He was out here trying to fight the fire by himself,” William Jackson said.
Rodney Nickerson
Rodney Nickerson, 82, also died, according to his family. He lived on a street that was just a short walk from Mr. Shaw’s home, although it is unclear if they knew each other.
Mr. Nickerson came from a multigenerational California family, his son, Eric Nickerson, said. His grandfather founded Golden State Mutual Life, an insurance company. A public-housing project in the southern Los Angeles neighborhood of Watts, Nickerson Gardens, was named for the grandfather.
Mr. Nickerson himself was a retired aerospace engineer for Lockheed Martin and an active deacon at his church, according to his son, Eric Nickerson.
Mr. Nickerson loved to fish, play the horses and watch the 49ers, his daughter-in-law, Elsa Nickerson, said in an interview. And he was deeply attached to his house, where he had raised his two children, and the neighborhood, where he had seen the cycle of generations.
His wife, Suzette, died in 2018, and he refused to give away her clothes, her jewelry or her cookbooks, Ms. Nickerson said.
As the fires raged, “we all tried to tell him to leave, but he thought, ‘Oh, it’s going to go around me,’” she said. His house burned to the ground, the car on the driveway was gutted and much of the water in the swimming pool evaporated in the intense heat, she said.
Mr. Nickerson’s daughter, Kimiko, told local news outlets that she found only her father’s bones in his bed.
Erliene Kelley
Erliene Kelley, who lived a few blocks away from Mr. Shaw and Mr. Nickerson, died in her home, according to her family.
She was a retired pharmacy technician at Rite Aid and longtime resident of the neighborhood, according to Rita and Terry Pyburn, a couple who lived on her block.
“She was so, so, so sweet,” said Mr. Pyburn. He often had brief chats with Ms. Kelley about gardening and local news, and often left small Christmas gifts for her and other neighbors in the tight-knit community.
“She was an angel,” Mr. Pyburn said. “That’s the perfect neighbor. When you see her, you have a smile.”
Mr. Pyburn added that “unfortunately, there was not good communication” about the threat to life. He and his wife had initially heard on his car radio that “everything east of Lake Street was evacuated, and over here on the west side we were fine.”
“So we were in the house and just stayed there, thinking we were okay,” Mr. Pyburn said. “Until we started smelling smoke.” He and his wife prepared to leave, and then the emergency alert arrived.
“It was panic. Everyone took off and no one thought to check on anybody,” Mr. Pyburn said, adding, “I think the notice came too late.”
Arthur Simoneau
Arthur Simoneau, a beloved figure in the hang gliding community, died in the Palisades fire while trying to save his home in Topanga, his family said.
Steve Murillo, 64, a longtime friend and fellow hang glider, described Mr. Simoneau as a pioneer of the sport. The two often embarked on adventures, traveling to places like Oregon and Utah to fly.
He recalled a challenging trip to Lakeview, Ore., where difficult flying conditions made them question whether to take off. They ultimately decided to fly and landed in a field, only to be confronted by a gruff landowner.
“Arthur turned to me and said, ‘Let me do the talking,’” Mr. Murillo said. “He had this way of disarming people with his big smile.” Moments later, the man was exchanging phone numbers with them, Mr. Murillo added.
Mr. Simoneau was a member of the Sylmar Hang Gliding Association, where he served as a mentor to many, according to Mr. Murillo, the association’s president.
Malury Silberman, another member of the association, called Mr. Simoneau an “elder” of their group — someone who guided newer members and helped them out of tight spots.
He recounted an incident in the desert when he crash-landed and wrecked his glider. Mr. Simoneau navigated rough terrain to rescue him.
A GoFundMe set up by his son, Andre Simoneau, described Mr. Simoneau as a man who showed others how to live with a rare “childlike eagerness.”
“It was always in the back of our heads that he would die in spectacular Arthur fashion,” the post read. He died protecting his home, “something only he was brave enough (or crazy enough) to do.”
Randall Miod
Randall Miod, 55, was a “legend in Malibu” who lived and died in the place he loved most, his mother, Carol A. Smith, wrote in a statement.
Ms. Smith wrote that Mr. Miod discovered surfing and skateboarding in junior high school — and surfing became his passion.
Sometimes, he would ditch school to surf. “At one point in time, I hid his surfboard and he was furious,” she wrote. “Typical teenage stuff.”
In his twenties, Mr. Miod rented a studio apartment in Malibu that was part of the home he would later purchase, she wrote. The house, located on the Pacific Coast Highway, became known as the “Crab Shack,” a gathering place for friends who were always coming and going.
Corina Cline, 43, an artist, said Mr. Miod was known to friends as “Craw,” short for “Crawdaddy” or “Crawdad.”
She said he was working-class but had found a way to live the life he wanted — one with plenty of surfing, a cat he loved and a knack for making friends of all backgrounds.
Ms. Cline remembered how at one point, a professional surfer asked her to go tandem surfing. She had declined, but when she told Mr. Miod, he told her, “When a pro surfer asks you to go surfing, you don’t say, ‘No!’” Encouraged by him, she gave it a try.
Mr. Miod “always wanted everyone to try stuff and not be scared or think they couldn’t do something,” she said.
Ms. Smith said the last time she spoke with her son was the day the Palisades fire began. He called her, nearly in tears, and she urged him to take himself and his cat to a shelter.
“Please don’t make me worry about you, again,” she recalled telling him.
But Mr. Miod chose to stay. His final words to her were, “Pray for the Palisades and pray for Malibu. I love you,” she wrote.
Later, she learned that human remains had been found behind his house. Detectives believe he was likely outside trying to save his home when he was overcome by smoke and heat, she wrote.
“You will be missed by so many but, especially, by me,” Ms. Smith wrote.
Rory Sykes
Rory Sykes, 32, a former child star from Australia who was born with cerebral palsy, died in the Palisades fire, his mother, Shelley Sykes, confirmed on Sunday.
Mr. Sykes appeared in the 1990s British television show “Kiddy Kapers.” On his website, he described himself as a gamer, investor and philanthropist. His mother said he was an avid player of RuneScape and an Apple enthusiast.
“He was just a beautiful soul,” she said, coughing from the smoke she had inhaled.
The two moved to the United State in 2010 and had lived on a 17-acre estate in the Malibu area for the last decade, where Mr. Sykes had his own cottage, which burned after he told Ms. Sykes he wasn’t leaving and locked himself inside, she said.
The search for other victims
The chief of the Los Angeles County Fire Department, Anthony Marrone, said “human remains detection teams” would be going house to house, searching for others who might have died.
On Thursday, fire was still smoldering in the rubble of the Shaw home. Four burned cars were in the driveway, and a garden hose was pulled out into the front yard.
A filing cabinet and chimney still stood, and a water heater billowed smoke. Collapsed drywall and melted piles littered the property with debris, some in piles as high as six feet.
The cul-de-sac where the house once stood had burned completely, as had much of the neighborhood. Just one house stood intact down the street.
“The fire that came through this canyon wiped out the entire Altadena community that’s been standing for 50, 60 years,” said Mr. Jackson, a retired Los Angeles County employee.
On Thursday afternoon, Willie Jackson returned to see what remained of the home that he, like Victor Shaw and his parents before him, had nurtured through the decades.
Almost nothing was left.
He plans to rebuild, “this time with all metal studs and I-beams, and fill the I-beams with concrete, so no matter how hot it gets, what kind of fire comes, it won’t crumble,” he said.
Anemona Hartocollis and Nicholas Bogel-Burroughs contributed reporting. Alain Delaquérière, Sheelagh McNeill and Kitty Bennett contributed research.