Akeem from Altadena

Photo Essay by Liam Pratt

April 21, 2025

I met Akeem after photographing the Altadena neighborhood. It was just days after it had been struck by the Eaton Fire, the second most destructive in California’s history. The fire had leveled much of the community. He was sitting on a stump outside the remains of a townhouse on East Mariposa Street. 

Visibly distraught, I was heading back to my rental car when Akeem waved me over. My Planet press pass had gotten me through the National Guard checkpoint, past several different Los Angeles County Sheriff deputies and other law enforcement agencies. 

Unbeknownst to me, it was also the first day that evacuees were able to come back to what was left of their homes. 

It was rough.

Press pass dangling from my breast pocket and camera strapped around my neck, Akeem and I made a deal. He would take me on a tour through Altadena if I took photos of him at his favorite spots. Delighted to be able to talk to someone who knew the area, I happily obliged.

One of our first stops was Fox’s Restaurant, which had been completely destroyed by the fire.

“I’ve been coming here for years bro, years,” Akeem said. He picked through the charred and mangled remains of the building, “This was my spot.”

About one block down, another mom and pop diner named Everest had burned down. Directly across the street, a Chase Bank stood untouched by the fire.

We marched on. 

Akeem’s grandfather had purchased their home in Altadena in 1963, with his family living in the area for over sixty years. The Bank of America on Lake Avenue held immense sentimental value for Akeem’s grandmother.

“She doesn’t go to any other bank,” Akeem said. “She’s loyal. She goes inside, you know?”

The bank seemed relatively intact from the outside, but a gust of wind lifted the bottom corner of the tarp covering the door. The brick walls had isolated the fire within the building, leaving nothing but scorched beams and electrical wiring on the inside.

Akeem told me that his grandma was safe and doing better. 

Our next stop was the post office, also a touchstone of the community. “That was my grandma’s post office,” Akeem said. “Another spot that she would always go to.”

We worked our way down Lake Avenue, stepping over downed power lines and ducking under collapsed billboards. I felt compelled to ask whether Akeem thought the community would come back from this disaster.

“It’s all right, Liam, because not everything burned,” Akeem said. “It’s hurting though for sure. It’s going to take years to get back to where we were.”

While wandering through Altadena, this sentiment was shared by nearly everyone I spoke with. A sheriff who mistook me for a looter echoed Akeem’s thoughts, noting that he believed the community would come back stronger than before.

Two firefighters who wanted to ensure that I had a mask and water also said that they were confident in the community’s ability to rebuild. Despite the devastation that had roared through the neighborhood, a profound sense of resilience burned brighter than ever.