Four months after an explosion at an oil facility in Roseland, Louisiana, spewed toxic sludge across the majority-Black community, residents remain skeptical about federal and state relief efforts. A $1 billion lawsuit against the operator, Smitty’s Supply, targets violations but may not aid affected families directly. Cleanup lags, health issues persist, and environmental advocates highlight patterns of neglect in underserved areas.
The explosion at Smitty’s Supply facility in Roseland, a town of about 1,100 residents with an average annual income of $17,000, occurred roughly four months before January 2026. The blast released a black sludge containing oil, vehicle lubricants, and cancer-causing PFAS chemicals, which spread up to 50 miles, contaminating homes, farms, and waterways. Mayor Van Showers, who leads the majority-Black community, reports that more than half of properties still bear the residue on walls, roofs, and soil.
Initially, officials instructed residents to handle cleanup themselves, leading to financial strain. One fixed-income resident incurred over $1,000 in credit card debt replacing stained trailer panels. By October 2025, after community pressure, federal and state agencies increased involvement: they canvassed the area, filed the lawsuit, and tested wildlife for contamination. A state report revealed 74 live animals recovered from the zone, with 59 showing signs of ingesting or being covered in the oily substance; eight were dead, including four turtles and an alligator. Pets, livestock like cattle and horses, and even stillborn calves have suffered, with many animals dying.
The U.S. Department of Justice and Louisiana regulators accuse Smitty’s of years of safety violations, including absent spill-prevention plans, allowing millions of gallons of contaminated water to flow into ditches. The suit seeks over $1 billion in fines. Smitty’s maintains the incident was an "unforeseen industrial fire" and claims commitment to regulations, though state documents show post-lawsuit pumping of unpermitted oily liquids into waterways.
Residents like 58-year-old child care worker Millie Simmons report ongoing respiratory irritation and fatigue, limiting time outdoors. Showers, working at a local chicken plant, echoes widespread complaints of illness and uncleaned properties. "People want to know when they’re going to receive help," he said. He doubts the lawsuit will benefit the town, as penalties typically fund general cleanup rather than direct aid.
In October, cleanup responsibility shifted to the state and Smitty’s, with some properties addressed but many claims ignored. Showers received reimbursement for only one hotel night after evacuating; his dogs later died without further compensation. The Louisiana Environmental Action Network plans its own suit, citing contaminated crops and wells. Executive director Marylee Orr worries about anxiety from unanswered questions: "People don’t feel safe in their homes."
This echoes broader environmental racism in Louisiana, where Black and low-income areas face disproportionate disaster impacts and delayed recovery. Under the Trump administration, EPA and DOJ enforcement has dropped sharply—20 actions and $15.1 million in penalties in 11 months, versus $590 million in Biden's final 19 days. Policies now ignore minority status in prioritization. Showers, a Black Democrat in a conservative state, feels isolated, learning contamination details from news rather than officials. Fewer than three-quarters of properties are cleaned, leaving residents questioning water safety and long-term health risks like cancer.
