That January Morning

Ron takes us back to that chaotic January morning. He evacuated with thousands of others, leaving behind his home, his clothes, and his work laptops. The Eaton Fire was moving with terrifying speed, fueled by the winds whipping through the canyons.

The next morning he stopped for a latte at one of the few coffee spots still open and headed toward the unknown. Was his house still there? With his phone in hand, he documented the flames that had already consumed large parts of the neighborhood. The video is shaky, chaotic, and terrifying—a firsthand account of a man watching his world ignite.

"The sky was a blanket of smoke. That house was on fire, that house was on fire, but I still wanted to see my house, I want to see my house." A half a block later the flames and the ashes were all Ron could see through the smoke and through his phone's camera. "It was all gone," Ron says. "I put my hands on my head and said, 'It's all gone.'"

The Return

Almost a year later, the smoke has cleared, but the scarred landscape remains. Ron returned to the site, accompanied by Steve Spriester from Perfected, the parent company of the LA Fire Justice office. The footage of their walk-through shows a man reliving a nightmare. As they turn the corner—that critical half-block—Ron’s posture changes. The hope evaporates.

Where his home once stood, there is now only a footprint of ash and concrete. The driveway leads to nowhere. The yard is gone. The silence of the empty lot is a stark contrast to the crackle of the fire that Ron remembers so vividly. "You work so hard, all your life, and then you have to start over." Ron tells Steve, pointing to a patch of scorched earth. "I'm figuring out a way to start over."

Finding A Way Forward

For victims of the Eaton Fires, the trauma of the event is often followed by a second wave of devastation: the bureaucracy of insurance, the lack of answers, and the feeling of being forgotten. Ron admits that after the fire, he felt paralyzed. The loss was total. But it was connecting with the team at Perfected's, LA Fire Justice that helped him pivot from despair to hope. "I didn't know where to start," Ron explains. What he received was more than legal and insurance advice.

Standing Tall

Today, Ron Shino is still picking up the pieces, but he is no longer doing it alone. He is fighting for the compensation he deserves to rebuild his life. Standing on the empty lot with Perfected's Steve Spriester, Ron looks different than he did on that January morning. He is tired, yes, and the grief is still raw. But as he looks out over the Altadena hills, there is a set to his jaw that suggests resilience.

"The way we get through this is by coming together," Ron admits, he's been changed. "The fire changed me, I want to help, I want to help others realize there is hope out there, because that's what someone gave to me." The fire destroyed his home in a matter of minutes. But it could not take his resolve.