The Forgotten in the Flames: Why Emergency Planning Must Include Disabled People

A scene of intense wildfires, with palm trees and vegetation engulfed in flames, embers scattering through the air, and a vibrant orange hue dominating the environment.

Reading the recent story from Sonja Sharp at Los Angeles Times about Anthony Mitchell Sr. and his son Justin—a father and son who both had disabilities and died because of inadequate evacuation planning during the devastating LA wildfires—has left me angry and heartbroken. Their deaths were preventable, and yet they were left to wait, pray, and perish. This tragic event reflects systemic failures that disabled people, like me, fear every day.

I can’t ignore how often disabled people are overlooked in emergency planning.

Growing up, I was never truly part of evacuation plans. After 9/11, I remember my math teacher pointing to a football player and saying, “Ryan, that’s your escape plan.” That moment encapsulated the lack of planning, forethought, and value placed on the lives of disabled individuals. Now, as an adult living in a 25-story high-rise in D.C., those fears haven’t gone away. During fire drills or alarms, the elevator shuts down, the hallway doors automatically lock, and I’m left wondering: “Will anyone come?” I’m on supposed watch lists, but those plans are never practiced. The truth is, I don’t have faith that help will come when it matters most.

Anthony Mitchell Sr., an amputee who used a wheelchair, and Justin Mitchell, who had cerebral palsy, couldn’t escape on their own. Firefighters stopped family members from entering the evacuation zone to save them. As the flames closed in, they huddled together, waiting for a rescue that never came.

Officials have known for years that disabled individuals are disproportionately impacted by disasters. A 2019 state audit highlighted how emergency management agencies were woefully unprepared for this threat, despite California being home to 4 million disabled residents, including nearly a quarter-million in Los Angeles​

We can and must do better. Emergency response plans need to be inclusive, regularly practiced, and accessible to everyone. This means involving disabled individuals in planning processes, investing in assistive technology, and ensuring first responders are trained to address the needs of disabled people during disasters.

We’re one-fourth of the global population. Our lives are just as valuable, and our voices need to be heard. Let’s stop apologizing after the fact and start making proactive changes now. The cost of inaction is far too great.

One Step Away: Reflecting on Trump's Narrow Escape and Disability

Law enforcement officers gather at the campaign rally site for Republican presidential candidate former President Trump.

Evan Vucci/AP

This weekend's events at Donald Trump's rally in Pennsylvania have left us all grappling with numerous questions. How could such a security failure occur? What were the motivations behind the shooting? How will this historic moment reshape US politics in the 2024 election? Amidst the whirlwind of these discussions, one question has been persistently echoing in my mind: What does this assassination attempt say about our current views on disability in this country?

As someone who lives with multiple disabilities, this question is not just rhetorical. Former President Donald Trump has openly and notoriously mocked disabled individuals and wounded veterans. The irony is that by sheer luck, he narrowly avoided becoming part of the community he has so often disparaged. This incident starkly reminds us that we are all just one moment away from joining the ranks of the disabled community.

During the chaos following the shooting, Democratic strategist Johnny Palmadessa told Reuters he witnessed elderly and disabled attendees struggling to evacuate the venue. He described scenes of mothers shielding their children from bullets, husbands protecting their wives, and elderly people giving up on trying to escape because they couldn't move quickly enough. Palmadessa observed, "I watched elderly people struggle to leave fast enough. Some of them practically gave up and decided, I'm just going to wait here because I can't get out right now. That's not okay."

This heartbreaking reality is all too familiar to many of us in the disability community. During emergencies, our needs are often overlooked, leaving us vulnerable and, at times, resigned to our fate. The U.S. Secret Service, while prioritizing the protection of the president, has a responsibility to ensure the safety of all attendees, including those with disabilities. Their failure to do so at this event is a glaring oversight that demands immediate rectification.

The broader implications of this incident extend beyond just the physical safety of disabled individuals at public events. It forces us to confront how deeply ingrained ableism is in our society. Trump's history of mocking disabled individuals is not just offensive; it's indicative of a societal mindset that devalues and disregards the disabled community. As a result, the protections and considerations that should be in place are often absent.

We must advocate for inclusive emergency preparedness plans that account for the needs of disabled individuals. This includes ensuring accessible egress routes, providing adequate assistance during emergencies, and training all personnel on how to effectively support disabled attendees. The Trump assassination attempt is a stark reminder that our current systems are insufficient and that immediate action is necessary to prevent future tragedies.

Where Are All The Disabled Students?

Following the mass shooting in Uvalde, I have struggled to comprehend the inhumanity. I have thought about friends and family who are teachers or parents of school-age children. Every time this happens, I am left shaking for days, unnerved, and concerned for their safety. I thought about the children whose lives were lost, and I thought back to my time in school. A time before school shootings were pervasive and active shooter drills were normalized.

And I thought about disabled students.

According to the National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), disabled students account for 14% of students attending public schools.

In the event of an emergency, many disabled students are left without a plan and left to wonder, “Is this how I am going to die?”

That kid was me.

I remember a simple evacuation drill in the days following the 9/11 attacks. Students were told to file out calmly and proceed to a designated area. As a wheelchair user, I saw a room filled with desks and little space to move safely and quickly. When I raised the concern with my teacher, he declared, “Ryan, ‘he’ is your escape plan,” and pointed to a classmate who was a football player.

As my education continued, I would routinely raise the question of how I was to safely evacuate. When there stopped being student athletes to carry me, I was told to sit and wait for evacuation personnel to get me. Teachers? Faculty? Police? Firefighters? Nobody ever discussed it with me. There would be an emergency, and as I watched classmates file out to safety, there I would be, waiting. But it was just a drill, they said. So, nobody came. Nobody could be bothered to even pretend to care about disabled lives. I became convinced that in the event of a real emergency, I would certainly die.

With active shooter simulations and lockdown drills, the stakes are higher. Students learn to hide under desks and barricade doors. They learn to block windows to avoid being seen. What is a student supposed to do if a wheelchair or other mobility device prevents them from participating in this drill? What do we do for students with auditory triggers? Students with visual impairments? Present day drills are not accounting for disabled students.

Inaccessibility abounds more than 30 years after the ADA. Lack of universal design in schools could mean the difference between life and death. Making matters worse, Republicans are advocating for a “one door policy” according to MSNBC. This is a step backward for accessibility.

According to Reuters, the shooter had well over an hour alone inside the school prior to police engaging with him.

After I read that, the only thing I could think was, where are the disabled students? While everyone is terrified and looking for safety, disabled students were likely told, “Sit tight and wait here. Someone is coming to help you.” That should terrify us all.