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Recently, I was involved in a discussion about AB-1346, a routine decision of the California Legislative Assembly. The bill was passed in October 2021, and requires the California Air Resources Board (CARB) to put in place regulations restricting emissions from new Small Off-Road Engines (SOREs). Not being a Californian - indeed as I am living in the UK and not a USAian at all, this may seem somewhat an odd topic to write about. Nonetheless the bill is generating quite a lot of fuss online and I thought it would be interesting to explore the topic in a little more depth.

<p>Recently, I was involved in a discussion about <a href="https://leginfo.legislature.ca.gov/faces/billTextClient.xhtml?bill_id=202120220AB1346">AB-1346</a>, a routine decision of the California Legislative Assembly. The bill was passed in October 2021, and requires the California Air Resources Board (CARB) to put in place regulations restricting emissions from new Small Off-Road Engines (SOREs). Not being a Californian - indeed as I am living in the UK and not a USAian at all, this may seem somewhat an odd topic to write about. Nonetheless the bill is generating quite a lot of fuss online and I thought it would be interesting to explore the topic in a little more depth.</p> <p>While the new law itself is quite light on detail, it links in to an interesting technological transition that’s currently ongoing and rapidly speeding up: the technological obsolescence of small engine-driven machinery, in favour of electrically operated machinery, powered by batteries.</p> <p>The law has widely been reported as a ban on electrical generators for home use in California, and resultantly the bill has attracted a somewhat disproportionate level of attention from the press and public in this regard. Many people in California and throughout the USA are, or perceive themselves to be, dependent on generators to supply their electricity (at least for some of the time).</p> <p>While this level of attention would be reasonable if the bill did <em>in fact</em> ban generators; the bill does not, <em>in fact</em>, ban generators. In fact, the other market segments affected will have much more impact on the day-to-day life of Californians.</p> <p>What the bill does do, is to give legal force to new <a href="https://ww2.arb.ca.gov/rulemaking/2021/sore2021">rules currently being made by CARB</a>. If these rules are adopted as proposed, emissions standards for SOREs will be raised to technically infeasible levels from 2024 onwards, effectively prohibiting production of SOREs for the California market. Generators are included in this, although they will not be completely restricted until 2028. Existing equipment will not be affected by these rules, however - Californians’ generators will not stop suddenly stop working when the clock strikes midnight on the 1st of January 2028, nor will the police go about rounding up outdated generators.</p> <p>Even in 2028 and afterwards, if somebody wants a new portable generator, they will be able to get one. Both used generators, and new generators bought directly from other states, will still be available; additionally some manufacturers will be able to use accumulated emissions credits to legally sell noncompliant generators.</p> <h2 id="why-are-small-engines-so-good-historically">Why are small engines so good, historically?</h2> <p>Removing SOREs from the market will be a historic and tremendously significant occasion, as they have been a fixture of domestic life for going on 70 years, powering all manner of essential tools: from chainsaws, lawnmowers and leafblowers to pressure washers, arc welders, plate compactors - and indeed, portable generators. All these categories would not exist as they do today without the SORE to give them rotational energy, mechanically converted by their mechanisms into useful work for the home and the job.</p> <p>Would you bother mowing the lawn once a week if you had to push the mower yourself, instead of riding along in comfort while the SORE does all the work for you? What would you do without a chainsaw as a tree surgeon? Or without an arc welder as you’re building the new oil pipeline that inches its way across the landscape?</p> <p>SOREs are convenient, portable and powerful. Pour in some fuel, pull the cord and away you go. Maintenance is easy, if you can be bothered, just top off the oil every so often, and switch out the carburator gaskets and spark plug when they wear out. If you can’t be bothered, for not many dollars somebody else will do it for you; if even that’s too complicated for you then you can just throw it away and buy another - small engines are cheap enough that you can afford it.</p> <p>SOREs are the safe bet. They can operate in harsh conditions without a blink - hot, cold, wet, dry? No bother. What about infrastructure - all you need is a can of fuel, and as an American, you can trust in the supply of petrol for your SORE. The government fights wars for your right to burn oil. No matter who you are or what you do, or where you are in the country; there’s nothing better than a SORE by your side.</p> <h2 id="or-maybe-not-there-are-downsides-too">Or maybe not, there are downsides too!</h2> <p>When you snap out of your American dream, you realise that your suburban paradise is more like a suburban prison. The car in the garage is not a ticket to freedom, but a shackle to the petrol pump and a life doomed to sit in traffic; the 30-year mortgage not independence but dependence on the market and maintaining your income; and that pristine green lawn is not the status symbol it once was. It must be fertilised, pesticised, mown, leafblown, edged and watered, taking up hours of your time and many of your dollars.</p> <p>And all that mowing belies one of the problems with the SORE. When every identical house in every identical cul-de-sac with its identical green, manicured lawn has its own mower running for hours a week, that’s a lot of fuel being burned by SOREs in a relatively small area. And that’s not good. The SORE is a noisy, smelly and inconvenient machine. When incessant droning of the neighbours’ leafblowers just won’t shut up when you want to relax, and when the smog hangs in the air like a foul blanket over the city for days on end, you realise that you have a problem. And it’s a big problem too; reading the scientists’ reports about just how many people are dying of this gives you a shock. And then you realise that the carbon dioxide being pumped out of these engines isn’t that benign either.</p> <p>The truth is that SOREs have a lot of tradeoffs in their design. They may be cheap, lightweight and powerful, but because of this they are designed to be crude and simple machines. There’s no budget (economic, weight, or engineering complexity) for anything more than the bare minimum. They pass out exhaust gases unfiltered, and burn through fuel at an astronomical rate.</p> <p>In the case of two-stroke engines, even the minimum of pollution control isn’t possible, because of the total-loss lubrication strategy. Engine oil is mixed directly with the fuel and passed through the combustion chamber. The partially burned results are apparent as smoke, full of the worst kinds of pollutants. But when you need an engine small enough to fit in your chainsaw, even the complexity of valves and a sealed crankcase is too much - two stroke it is, consequences be damned.</p> <p>In the old days, cars and lorries emitted these kinds of pollutants too (and in aggregate, far more than SOREs): unburned hydrocarbons (HC), carbon monoxide (CO) and plain soot; but nowadays the law mandates that this is not the case. Modern cars (as designed) emit almost undetectable quantities of these pollutants, thanks to the catalytic converter, ECU and fuel injection (among countless other technologies). But this is possible because the tradeoffs are different for large and expensive car engines. If adding fuel injection is necessary to pass smog, of course that will get done, but it would probably have happened anyway once consumers realise it is more reliable and leads to lower fuel costs.</p> <p>It’s only now that cars have got to be so good that SOREs are the next biggest issue to fix.</p> <p>And it turns out that SOREs are a bit of a pain sometimes too. When the carburator needs to be rebuilt every year (or more often!) because of the new type of petrol with ethanol in it, that gets old fast. And when your nice new car always smells of fumes from the infuriatingly leaky (supposedly anti-leak!) mechanism in the fuel can, you’d really rather not have to carry petrol about quite so often. And when the power goes out and society is falling apart, when are you going to get the petrol for your generator from anyway - it’s not like you can store it for more than a few months without it going off after all. Maybe there really is something better than a SORE?</p> <h2 id="what-are-the-alternatives-to-small-engines">What are the alternatives to small engines?</h2> <p>Luckily there are now better alternatives to SOREs in many instances. Efficient and powerful permanent magnet AC motors now exist which are far lighter than SOREs, and when combined with Lithium batteries can be just as, if not more, compact and portable. Electric chainsaws are now more popular than engine-driven models for the home market, and many areas mandate the use of electric leafblowers already out of concern for noise pollution. Electric lawnmowers are competitive with petrol-powered ones, and even large lawns are suitable for self-charging robotic mowers, which not only cut out the SORE, but much of the labour too.</p> <p>Larger and mobile machinery is just as suitable for battery-driven operation, with few exceptions, owing to the breakneck pace of development in the battery and electric car industries.</p> <p>Even portable generators have been replaced by Lithium power packs for many uses - where only moderate power is needed and recharging facilities are easily to hand hand they are invaluable. And since they have no hazardous fuel nor any exhaust they are safe to use indoors. And for backup power after the Big One, or the next storm, Lithium provides an answer too. Solar panels on the roof and a Powerwall in the garage mean you can be totally self-sufficient, no generator needed.</p> <p>And more high-tech innovation does look to be on the way: fuel cells powered by methane or hydrogen gas are already available and this segment is currently undergoing a frenzy of investment. Generators and power packs using the technology are sure to come on the market before too long.</p> <p>All that said, there are still many market segments that are best served by SOREs at the moment, and it certainly is taking a gamble to say everything will be good by 2024-8. The alternatives are typically significantly more expensive than SOREs, and while price-conscious consumers can be served by the pre-2024 used market, prices will no doubt increase for all market participants.</p> <h2 id="back-to-the-rules">Back to the rules</h2> <p>Looking back to CARB’s proposed rules, we need to read them in more detail to understand the reasoning for the change. Looking at the <a href="https://ww2.arb.ca.gov/sites/default/files/barcu/regact/2021/sore21/isor.pdf">Initial Statement of Reasons</a>, CARB explains its remit and how current healthy pollution limits are being exceeded in California, and what it plans to do about that:</p> <blockquote> <p>The California Air Resources Board (CARB or Board) is responsible for protecting the public from the harmful effects of air pollution through the development of programs that reduce the emissions of specific pollutants and their precursors. Several areas within California exceed national ambient air quality standards (NAAQS) set by United States Environmental Protection Agency (U.S. EPA) for both fine particulate matter (PM) with diameter of 2.5 micrometers or smaller (PM2.5) and ozone.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>Meeting these public health goals requires phasing out the use of internal combustion engines in both on-road and off-road applications and adopting zero-emission technology.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>Governor Newsom’s Executive Order (EO) N-79-20, issued September 23, 2020, (EO N-79-20) orders CARB to develop and propose, “Strategies, in coordination with other State agencies, the U.S. EPA, and local air districts, to achieve 100 percent zero-emission from off-road vehicles and equipment operation in the State by 2035.”</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>Even so, in California, SORE emit more NOx and ROG [Reactive Organic Gases] than light-duty passenger cars, both in summer and annually. Without additional regulation, SORE will emit 1.8 times the amount of summertime NOx and ROG that California light-duty passenger vehicles emit in 2031 (CARB, 2020 and 2021b).</p> </blockquote> <p>The pollution figures may seem high, but these are justified by the extremely poor performance of SOREs, high relative usage and extremely good performance of modern cars.</p> <blockquote> <p>The Proposed Amendments would accelerate the transition to ZEE by setting evaporative and exhaust emission standards to zero for new SORE (engines or equipment produced for sale or lease for use or operation in California), except engines used exclusively in generators, for model year (MY) 2024 and subsequent model years. Implementing emission standards of zero [0.00 grams of hydrocarbons (HC) + NOx per kilowatt-hour, or g·kWh-1, for exhaust emissions and 0.00 grams per test for evaporative emissions] does not necessarily mean that all new sales of small off-road equipment would be ZEE. Banked emission reduction credits could be used to offset emissions from SORE for up to five model years after the credits were generated. Also, engines or equipment emitting below 0.005 g·kWh-1 or g·test-1 could be certified to meet emission standards of zero. However, staff believes that it is unlikely that engines or equipment meeting emission standards of zero will be manufactured. It is more likely that manufacturers will use emission reduction credits in the near-term to offset emissions from SORE while the credits are available.</p> </blockquote> <p>The way that CARB is going about this is admittedly odd, but also quite appropriate in a way: nobody would have thought that the appropriate level of pollutants would ever be set to zero when pollution first became an issue. But they gave CARB the right to regulate the emissions, and zero is a perfectly appropriate number to regulate it to, given today’s environmental and market conditions.</p> <p>Have a read of the proposal yourself, the introduction is quite comprehensible and there’s lots of evidence of the real work done by CARB later on. Although at &gt;400 pages you might not want to read the whole thing!</p> <h2 id="conclusion">Conclusion</h2> <p>Anyway, to sum up, it’s certainly an interesting time in the small off-road equipment market, and probably a good place for a startup manufacturer of electric equipment, and quite possibly for the consumer as well. As an existing manufacturer of SOREs, maybe not so much. That’s no death sentence though, although there’s no time to spare, the incumbents have strong R&amp;D departments and the state is setting them off in the right direction.</p> <p>A lot of the lobbying against this change is surely coming from these manufacturers, with the scaremongering media and religious generator users coming along for the ride. But there are legitimate complaints, due to the very short timescale for the phaseout of non-generator SOREs and the increased cost of generator alternatives currently on the market.</p> <p>It’s clear that this will be good for the health and welfare of Californians, and that existing generator users have nothing to fear from the change, but rather they can expect benefits from the new and innovative products that California will be producing in the near future.</p> <h2 id="related-note">Related Note:</h2> <p>With all this new battery-operated equipment coming on the market soon, there needs to be a big push for a consistent and repairable battery standard. Vendor lockin, battery cost and safety all need to be improved. Existing proprietary batteries - where the options are an overpriced and unrepairable original battery or a dangerous cheap clone are not the solution. A well-designed open standard is needed so that consumers can choose batteries that are compatible between all their equipment and can buy high-quality third party batteries.</p>

by Perla Trevizo , Ren Larson , Lexi Churchill , ProPublica and The Texas Tribune ; Mike Hixenbaugh and Suzy Khimm , NBC News

HOUSTON — When Shalemu Bekele awoke on the morning of Feb. 15, the town house he shared with his wife and two children was so cold, his fingers felt numb.

After bundling up in extra layers, Bekele looked out a frosted window: A winter storm had swept across Texas, knocking out power to millions of homes, including his own, and blanketing Houston in a thin layer of icy snow.

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“It was beautiful,” Bekele, 51, recalled thinking as he headed outside to snap photos of his two children, ages 7 and 8, playing in their first snow. After a few minutes, he sent them back inside to warm up under blankets as he cleared ice off his car, unsure if he would be expected to drive into work.

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Bekele’s wife, Etenesh Mersha, 46, meanwhile, made a fateful decision, one repeated by scores of Texas residents who lost electricity that week. Desperate to warm up, she went into their attached garage and turned the key to start her car. As the engine hummed, it provided power to run the car’s heater and charge her phone while she talked to a friend in Colorado — at the same time, filling her garage and home with a poisonous gas.

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There was no carbon monoxide alarm in place to warn the family of the invisible danger. None was required under local or state law.

When Bekele went back inside 30 minutes later, he found Mersha slumped over in the driver’s seat, poisoned by the fumes flowing from the car’s tailpipe. Confused, he shook her and called her name. Still on the line, the friend in Colorado pleaded over the car’s speakers for someone to explain what was happening.

Not knowing what else to do, Bekele, a devout Christian, ran and grabbed holy water from inside and splashed it on his wife’s face, as his children cried and shouted: “What’s wrong with Mama? What’s happening?”

That’s when Mersha vomited. Suddenly starting to feel ill himself, Bekele wondered if they’d all been sickened by the eggs he’d made for breakfast. Panicked, he sent the kids inside to grab towels to clean up their mother. Before they could return, both children collapsed onto the floor inside.

Bekele fainted next, landing with a thud on the garage’s concrete floor as the car continued to run.

After the power flicked off in millions of homes across Texas during the state’s historic freeze in mid-February, families like Bekele’s faced an impossible choice: risk hypothermia or improvise to keep warm. Many brought charcoal grills inside or ran cars in enclosed spaces, either unaware of the dangers or too cold to think rationally.

In their desperation, thousands of Texans unwittingly unleashed deadly gases into homes and apartments that, in many cases, were not equipped with potentially lifesaving carbon monoxide alarms, resulting in the country’s “biggest epidemic of CO poisoning in recent history,” according to Dr. Neil Hampson , a retired doctor who has spent more than 30 years researching carbon monoxide poisoning and prevention. Two other experts agreed.

In the aftermath of the unprecedented wave of poisonings two months ago, Texas lawmakers have taken few steps to protect residents from future carbon monoxide catastrophes. That choice caps more than a decade of ignored warnings and inaction that resulted in Texas being one of just six states with no statewide requirement for carbon monoxide alarms in homes, ProPublica, The Texas Tribune and NBC News found.

Instead, Texas has a confusing patchwork of local codes, with uneven protections for residents and limited enforcement, all of which most likely contributes to unnecessary deaths, health policy experts said.

At least 11 deaths have been confirmed and more than 1,400 people sought care at emergency rooms and urgent care clinics for carbon monoxide poisoning during the weeklong Texas outage, just 400 shy of the total for 2020. Children made up 42% of the cases. The totals don’t include residents who were poisoned but did not seek care or those who were treated at hospitals and urgent care clinics that do not voluntarily report data to the state.

Black, Hispanic and Asian Texans suffered a disproportionate share of the carbon monoxide poisonings, ProPublica, The Texas Tribune and NBC News found based on a review of statewide hospital data. Those groups accounted for 72% of the poisonings, far more than their 57% share of the state’s population.

Over the past two decades, the vast majority of states have implemented laws or regulations requiring carbon monoxide alarms in private residences, often on the heels of high-profile deaths or mass poisonings during storms.

But in Texas, where top lawmakers often promote personal responsibility over state mandates, efforts to pass similar carbon monoxide requirements have repeatedly failed.

Lawmakers introduced a slew of bills aimed at overhauling the state’s electric grid after the storm, which had its most devastating effects from Feb. 14-17. Temperatures plunged into the single digits, nearly 4.5 million Texas homes and businesses lost power at the peak of the storm, and more than 150 people died , many of them frozen in their homes.

Demands for change triggered a series of resignations but, with virtually all of the media and legislative focus on the regulatory failures that caused the power outage, little attention was paid to carbon monoxide alarms. The result was a significant missed opportunity to pass reforms after “an entirely preventable public health crisis,” said Emily Benfer, a visiting professor at Wake Forest University School of Law in North Carolina who specializes in housing health hazards.

Lawmakers this year are considering a broader modernization of state building codes that is unrelated to February’s storm. If the measure passes, it would require carbon monoxide alarms in some new homes and apartments, but not those built or renovated before 2022. And it would allow local governments to opt out.

“It’s completely shocking,” Benfer said. “In a single week we have concrete evidence of a state government’s willful disregard for the health and safety of the most vulnerable residents of the state.”

“Public Health Disaster”

Bekele and Mersha came to Houston from Ethiopia a decade ago with dreams of a better life for their family. For years, they lived in a small apartment and set aside their earnings as gas station clerks until they could afford to buy a home. In 2017, they purchased the three-bedroom town house in southwest Houston where they planned to watch their son, Beimnet, and daughter, Rakeb, grow up.

Shalemu Bekele with his wife, Etenesh Mersha, daughter, Rakeb, and son, Beimnet. (Courtesy of Bekele Family)

Looking back, Bekele doesn’t remember if anyone notified them that the home lacked carbon monoxide alarms. State law requires that information to be disclosed when single-family homes are sold, but there is no policy in Houston or across Texas that would have required the previous owners to install one.

“I’ve never been told about carbon monoxide before,” Bekele said, speaking through an interpreter in his native Amharic.

The first thing he remembers after passing out on the morning of Feb. 15 was waking up in the back of an ambulance. He thought he’d only been knocked out for a few minutes, oblivious that it was now after midnight. He and his family had spent more than 12 hours unconscious inside while the friend in Colorado, unaware of their address, frantically searched on social media for family members who could direct emergency responders to their home.

Bekele started to ask the paramedics what happened to his wife and children but blacked out before he could get the words out.

The ambulance driver navigated ice-covered roads to deliver Bekele to Memorial Hermann Hospital in the Texas Medical Center. The hospital was overrun with patients like Bekele. Medical staff were treating so many people for carbon monoxide poisoning that the department was running out of beds and oxygen tanks, said Dr. Samuel Prater, the medical director of the hospital’s emergency department.

“We’ve never seen anything like this,” Prater said later.

Texans Struggling During the Winter Storm Flooded Emergency Rooms for Treatment for Carbon Monoxide Poisoning and Hypothermia

More than 1,400 people sought emergency care for carbon monoxide poisoning and at least 1,175 for hypothermia and cold exposure from Feb. 13 to Feb. 20

(Source: Texas Department of State Health Services)

Each year, the Memorial Hermann Health System treats about 50 patients for carbon monoxide poisoning at its 20 emergency rooms in Houston and surrounding counties. But that Monday, staff at Prater’s ER alone treated more than 60. Across the Memorial Hermann system, one of the largest hospital chains in the Houston region, 224 patients sought care for carbon monoxide poisoning during the freeze and power outages — more than four times its annual volume of such patients, according to data provided by the hospital.

Prater worked quickly to get more oxygen tanks to the ER and to set up emergency triage protocols to prioritize the hospital’s limited hyperbaric chambers. The chambers, which deliver oxygen at high pressure to more quickly flush carbon monoxide from patients’ bloodstream, are a standard treatment for halting the damage done by serious cases of CO poisoning.

With the power still out in millions of Texas homes and temperatures dropping, Prater asked the heads of media affairs at Memorial Hermann and UTHealth’s McGovern Medical School, where he’s a professor, to reach out to news outlets to help warn residents about the dangers of carbon monoxide.

“In no uncertain terms, this is a public health disaster,” Prater said at a televised news conference a day later, urging people who’d lost power not to bring charcoal grills or portable generators inside. “Additionally, never run your vehicle inside your garage and then get inside that vehicle as an attempt to get warm.”

In an interview later, Prater explained what was at stake: Carbon monoxide is a colorless, odorless gas that, at high concentrations, can kill within minutes. In serious cases, those who survive may suffer from permanent brain damage and other long-term health problems, including memory loss, blindness and hearing damage.

Almost 80% of patients treated at Memorial Hermann facilities for carbon monoxide poisoning that week were Hispanic or Black, even though those groups account for 55% of the population in the greater Houston region. The majority of patients came from neighborhoods that the hospital identified as home to “vulnerable populations.”

Part of this disparity is a result of where the power outages occurred. Across the state, areas with a high share of residents of color were four times more likely to lose power compared with predominantly white areas, according to an analysis of satellite and U.S. census data released by the Electricity Growth and Use in Developing Economies Initiative, a nonprofit collaboration among five universities.

Once their power went out, families in lower-income communities generally faced greater challenges. Few had relatives they could stay with. Some didn’t have vehicles that could handle icy roads and others lacked awareness of local warming shelters. This left many trapped in freezing homes and at higher risk of carbon monoxide poisoning, said Melissa DuPont-Reyes, an assistant professor at Texas A&M who studies health disparities.

“They have no other option to stay warm,” she said. “They’re going to use whatever means possible, and unfortunately it’s toxic.”

Benfer, the Wake Forest professor, agreed: “The most marginalized communities are also marginalized from information, resources and a safety net they can fall back on in a time of crisis.”

More than 24 hours after passing out, Bekele finally regained consciousness inside one of Memorial Hermann’s hyperbaric chambers. He immediately asked about his wife and kids, he said. A nurse told him he was very sick and needed to rest.

But Bekele kept asking, he said, until finally a doctor sat down at his bedside. He cried when she delivered the news.

His son, Beimnet, was connected to a ventilator in the intensive care unit, the doctor told him.

His wife and daughter, the doctor said, had died before paramedics arrived, poisoned by a gas that until that moment Bekele had never heard of.

Pleading for Help

As Bekele was recovering in the hospital, 911 calls continued flooding emergency operators across the state.

In Austin, the state’s capital, Franklin Peña felt increasingly powerless as he watched his 3-year-old son shiver from the brutal cold that engulfed his family’s apartment. On the evening of Feb. 16, after two days without electricity, Peña brought in a charcoal grill to burn wood for warmth.

“My desperation was such that I lost all fear or my head,” Peña said in Spanish during an interview. “The only thing I could think of doing was to bring the grill in.”

Just after 6 p.m., Peña’s wife and two children started to throw up. His own legs shaking, Peña dialed 911.

“Please help me,” he pleaded with the operator in Spanish, according to a recording obtained via a public information request. His wife wailed in the background as he told the 911 operator that his older son, 12, who has a developmental disability, had fainted. Because of their high metabolic rates, experts say, children can be more vulnerable to the effects of carbon monoxide.

“Is everyone out of danger?” the operator asked as Peña explained that they had fled their apartment and were outside in the cold. “They are breathing but they are not doing well,” he responded.

For 30 excruciating minutes, the 37-year-old Mexico native struggled to answer the operator’s questions as his wife and 12-year-old son drifted in and out of consciousness. “Please, sé fuerte mami ,” he repeated between sobs, begging his wife to be strong.

An incident report later cited “extreme levels” of carbon monoxide in the family’s apartment, which Peña said had no CO alarms.

None were required.

Texas has given local governments the discretion to establish their own carbon monoxide rules. As a result, requirements vary widely, and no single agency tracks them across the state.

Fort Worth and Dallas require the devices in newly constructed homes and existing multifamily units, but not in most single-family homes. Houston requires them only in new or renovated homes, though it’s now considering a broader requirement that will include existing homes. Most rural communities have less oversight.

Even in cities with stricter regulations, many homes lack the devices.

In 2017, Austin voted to become the first major Texas city to require carbon monoxide alarms in new and existing residences with fuel-fired appliances or attached garages. The change was prompted, in part, by an incident years earlier that left two residents dead.

Peña’s home only had electric appliances, which excluded his apartment from the requirement.

When emergency responders finally arrived at Peña’s home, they rushed him, his wife and 12-year-old son to the hospital with carbon monoxide poisoning. The 3-year-old was given oxygen but not hospitalized. Peña, who works painting and remodeling houses, said all have since recovered but occasionally suffer from headaches and the trauma of what they lived through that night.

“Any time it gets cold, we become afraid,” he said. “If we see any kind of smoke coming out of the stove, we become afraid and everything that happened that day comes flooding right back.”

Emergency room data provided by the state does not reflect the number of residents by city or county who visited hospitals for carbon monoxide poisoning. But 911 call records obtained and analyzed by ProPublica, The Texas Tribune and NBC News show that, in Austin and surrounding Travis County, the majority of the 60 emergency calls for carbon monoxide exposure came from vulnerable neighborhoods, where residents earn two-thirds that of Travis County overall.

The vulnerabilities were more pronounced around Rundberg Lane in North Austin, where Peña lives. A third of the city’s carbon monoxide emergency calls came from the community, which has more than double the county’s proportion of immigrants and refugees. About 4 in 5 residents in the area are people of color and nearly 2 in 5 are not proficient in English, according to an analysis of 911 calls and U.S. census data by the news organizations.

Three miles from Peña’s home, Lucila Montoya’s family brought inside a gas-powered portable stove to cook lunch and a grill with burning charcoal to help keep their apartment warm, not realizing the white-hot coals still emit fumes even after the flames are down.

About an hour later, Montoya felt weak but thought it was her pregnancy. She was due in March. But then her daughter Tifany, 7, started crying and losing consciousness. Montoya grabbed the phone as her husband, José, threw the child on his back and took her outside in the freezing weather.

“My little girl got sick, she started throwing up and is not responding, please,” Montoya, a Honduras native, frantically told the 911 operator in Spanish through an interpreter. “I need you to come quickly. ... She’s barely breathing.”

The 28-year-old mother, who was hospitalized for a day along with her daughter, recalled Tifany saying she couldn’t breathe. “She felt like she was going to die,” said Montoya, whose home didn’t have a carbon monoxide alarm.

“We were so naïve — we almost ended her life and mine,” added Montoya, who has since given birth to a healthy girl. “As a mother, I don’t wish this upon anyone.”

Failed Reform Attempts

In the weeks and months after the outages, Texas lawmakers scrambled to introduce and pass bills aimed at overhauling the state’s electric grid, with the goal of preventing future disasters.

“When I see people who die of hypothermia, or carbon monoxide poisoning, when I see the disruption to the business community, the people who can’t get a hot meal, can’t get water ... this cannot stand,” Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick , a Republican who sets legislative priorities in the state Senate, declared in February .

But even as lawmakers demanded a wave of complex reforms, they did little to address one of the simplest changes: establishing a statewide requirement for carbon monoxide alarms in homes. The devices cost as little as $15 and health experts say they are critical to preventing carbon monoxide poisoning.

The state’s top three Republicans — Gov. Greg Abbott , House Speaker Dade Phelan and Patrick — did not respond to questions about why carbon monoxide safety wasn’t a legislative priority.

State Rep. Donna Howard , a Democrat from Austin and a member of the legislative committee where energy reforms were discussed, said carbon monoxide wasn’t on her radar. But Howard said the findings from ProPublica, The Texas Tribune and NBC News show that it should have been.

“Clearly we’ve had to have reminders throughout this discussion of the fact that people died,” she said. “We all know how tragic it is, but we get caught up in the politics of the policies and sometimes lose sight of that bottom line.”

Legislation seeking to create statewide regulations for carbon monoxide alarms has repeatedly failed to pass the Texas Legislature, even following major storms that led to a surge in CO poisonings and deaths. A bill filed in 2019 that would have required the devices in rental housing didn’t get a hearing.

Former state Sen. Leticia Van de Putte, a San Antonio Democrat, co-wrote a failed measure in 2007, a year after former state Sen. Frank Madla and his mother-in-law were killed in a house fire. His 5-year-old granddaughter, who was also in the home, died from carbon monoxide exposure.

The measure would have required smoke detectors and carbon monoxide alarms in newly constructed homes and older homes for sale if the residences had fuel-burning appliances.

But the bill did not advance despite the close connection many lawmakers had to Madla and supportive testimony from fire chiefs, an emergency room doctor and a poison control center representative.

Industry groups like the Texas Association of Builders at the time staunchly opposed it, criticizing carbon monoxide alarms as an “unproven technology” that would do more harm than good if required.

“We believe mandating this would create a false sense of security for homeowners and would open up liability for homebuilders should they fail,” Ned Muñoz, vice president of regulatory affairs and general counsel for the group, said during a 2007 House hearing. Muñoz also pointed out that the devices were not yet included in the international building codes that are widely adopted by state and local governments.

Van de Putte can’t shake the feeling that the state’s failure to pass a statewide carbon monoxide policy cost lives in February.

“We have so many things that protect the physical, the tangible, the property,” Van de Putte, a pharmacist, said about current regulations. “By not putting in carbon monoxide alarms, that’s what we’re valuing. We’re valuing property over life.”

Since the failure of the 2007 bill, carbon monoxide alarms have become more reliable and are now required by most state governments and recommended by leading health and safety organizations. The International Code Council first recommended them for many newly constructed and renovated single-family homes in 2009 and apartment complexes in 2012.

Six States Have No Statewide Requirement for CO Detectors in Homes

(Source: NBC News/ProPublica/The Texas Tribune survey of statewide policies on carbon monoxide alarms in homes.)

In light of the new standards, the Texas Association of Builders has changed its position, said Scott Norman, the group’s executive director. The group now supports requirements for carbon monoxide alarms in newly constructed and renovated residences, Norman said.

“Decades ago, there were questions about the reliability,” he said. “But the codes evolve.”

Fire safety advocates and public health experts say that a statewide requirement for carbon monoxide alarms would better protect residents and help drive home the message about the deadly hazard.

“You don’t know if you’re going to be exposed until it’s too late and you’re sick or dead from it,” said John Riddle, president of the Texas State Association of Fire Fighters, which represents first responders. “A statewide law or requirement would absolutely make things easier.”

In some states that have passed robust statewide rules, there’s been a significant reduction in poisonings, fire safety experts say.

“When the state comes in and requires it, there is continuity across the whole state — there is one message,” said Jim Smith, the state fire marshal in Minnesota, where emergency department visits for carbon monoxide poisoning fell by 45% — from 411 to 226 — in the seven years after the state passed a sweeping law requiring alarms in most private residences. “It is no different than a seat belt.”

In early April, the Texas House passed a bill that would require cities to adhere to more recent health and safety codes for newly constructed and renovated residences. Under the measure, which has not yet been approved by the state Senate, carbon monoxide alarms would be required in homes built after 2022 that have fuel-fired appliances or attached garages. The requirement wouldn’t apply to unincorporated areas unless counties chose to adopt the codes, and cities could opt out of the provision.

The legislation, as written, would not protect millions of Texans who live in already constructed homes and apartments.

Starting Over

In Houston, Bekele was well enough to be discharged after a four-day hospital stay, but he did not go home. For days, he sat vigil at his son’s bedside, leaving only to shower at a family member’s house, while a machine pumped oxygen in and out of the boy’s lungs.

Bekele was there, at Beimnet’s side a few days later, to mark his ninth birthday.

Initially doctors told him that his son had “a very low probability to survive,” Bekele said. Even if he did, doctors warned that he’d likely suffer from permanent brain damage. Prolonged exposure to carbon monoxide had prevented oxygen from reaching his brain.

Day after day, Bekele held his son’s hand and begged God to spare his boy.

Then, nearly two weeks after being admitted, Beimnet regained consciousness. Within days, he was off life support and was up and walking around the hospital, slowly getting stronger until he was finally well enough to leave.

Two months later, Beimnet takes pills to prevent a relapse of seizures like the ones he suffered as a result of his carbon monoxide exposure, but he otherwise shows no signs so far of permanent damage.

“He is attending school now and is doing well,” said Bekele, who has since returned to work at the gas station.

Bekele and Beimnet in April. (Annie Mulligan for ProPublica/The Texas Tribune/NBC News)

This month, Bekele sued nearly a dozen companies that supply power to the state’s electric grid, one of dozens of lawsuits that seek to hold Texas companies accountable for serious injuries and deaths caused by the winter outages. The power companies have not yet filed a response to Bekele’s lawsuit in Harris County District Court but have denied responsibility for outage-related deaths in similar cases filed across Texas.

Bekele doesn’t know what will happen with the case, but he said no amount of money can make up for what he’s lost.

He still hasn’t had the strength to return to the place he and his family called home before his wife and daughter died. Hoping for a fresh start, he took money raised by loved ones on GoFundMe and put it toward the security deposit and rent for a nearby apartment. It’s smaller than their old townhouse, but enough space for just the two of them.

Not long after moving in, Bekele discovered a problem, one that he said he planned to fix as soon as possible: The apartment had no carbon monoxide alarms.

About the data: Statewide emergency room data is from Feb. 13-20 and came from the Texas Syndromic Surveillance system. Patients self-reported their race and ethnicity. A total of 11% of individuals who did not report their race or ethnicity were removed from the analysis. A separate analysis on patient ages removed less than 5% of individuals whose age was missing. Economic and demographic data is from the 2019 five-year American Community Survey and was analyzed at the census tract-level. Unless otherwise noted, areas with EMS calls were compared to the entire Austin-Travis County EMS service area.

por Perla Trevizo , Ren Larson , Lexi Churchill , ProPublica y The Texas Tribune ; Mike Hixenbaugh y Suzy Khimm , NBC News

HOUSTON — Cuando Shalemu Bekele se despertó en la mañana del 15 de febrero, la casa que compartía con su esposa y sus dos hijos estaba tan fría que sentía sus dedos entumecidos.

Luego de abrigarse con más ropa, Bekele miró por una ventana escarchada: una tormenta de invierno había azotado Texas, dejando sin electricidad a millones de hogares, incluido el suyo, y cubriendo Houston con una fina capa de nieve helada.

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“Era hermoso”, recuerda que pensó Bekele, de 51 años, mientras salía para tomarles fotos a sus dos hijos, de 7 y 8 años, jugando por primera vez con la nieve. Después de unos minutos, los hizo entrar a la casa para que se calentaran bajo las cobijas mientras él limpiaba el hielo de su auto, por si tenía que manejar al trabajo.

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Al mismo tiempo, la esposa de Bekele, Etenesh Mersha, de 46 años, tomó una decisión fatídica, repetida por un sinnúmero de residentes de Texas que se quedaron sin electricidad esa semana. Desesperada por calentarse, entró en el garaje y encendió el auto. Con el motor en marcha, podía prender la calefacción del vehículo y cargar su teléfono mientras hablaba con una amiga en Colorado, pero al mismo tiempo, su garaje y su casa se llenaban con un gas venenoso.

La vivienda no tenía una alarma de monóxido de carbono para advertir a la familia del peligro invisible. Ni la ley local o estatal exigían una.

Cuando Bekele regresó a la casa 30 minutos más tarde, encontró a Mersha desplomada en el asiento del conductor, intoxicada por los vapores que salían del tubo de escape del auto. Confundido, la sacudió y la llamó por su nombre. Aún en la línea, la amiga de Colorado suplicaba por el altavoz del auto que alguien le explicara lo que estaba sucediendo.

Sin saber qué más hacer, Bekele, un cristiano devoto, corrió y tomó agua bendita de adentro y se la echó en el rostro a su esposa, mientras sus hijos lloraban y gritaban: “¿Qué le pasa a mamá? ¿Qué está pasando?”.

En ese momento, Mersha vomitó. De repente, él mismo comenzó a sentirse mal, y se preguntó si todos se habrían enfermado con los huevos que había preparado para el desayuno. En pánico, envió a los niños adentro para que trajeran toallas para limpiar a su madre. Antes de que pudieran regresar, ambos niños se derrumbaron dentro de la casa.

Bekele se desmayó a continuación. Su cuerpo cayó, haciendo un ruido sordo al golpear el concreto del garaje, mientras el auto seguía andando.

Luego de que millones de hogares en Texas se quedaron sin luz durante la helada histórica de febrero, familias como la de Bekele enfrentaron una decisión imposible: arriesgarse a la hipotermia o improvisar para mantenerse calientes. Muchos encendieron asadores de carbón dentro de sus casas o pusieron en marcha el motor de sus vehículos en espacios cerrados, sin darse cuenta del peligro o con demasiado frío como para pensar racionalmente.

En su desesperación, miles de texanos, sin saberlo, liberaron gases mortales en casas y apartamentos que, en muchos casos, no estaban equipados con alarmas de monóxido de carbono que pueden salvar vidas. Lo cual resultó en la “mayor epidemia de intoxicación por CO en la historia reciente” del país, según Neil Hampson , un médico jubilado que ha pasado más de 30 años investigando la intoxicación por monóxido de carbono y su prevención. Otros dos expertos concuerdan.

Después de la ola de intoxicaciones sin precedentes de hace dos meses, los legisladores de Texas han tomado pocas medidas para proteger a los residentes de futuras catástrofes relacionadas con el monóxido de carbono. Esa decisión llega a finales de más de una décadade advertencias ignoradas e inacción que han convertido a Texas en uno de los seis estados donde el gobierno estatal no requiere que las viviendas tengan alarmas de monóxido de carbono, según una investigación de ProPublica, The Texas Tribune y NBC News.

Lo que sí tiene Texas es un confuso mosaico de códigos y normas locales, con distintos niveles de protección para los residentes y de cumplimiento limitado, lo que, según expertos en políticas de salud, probablemente contribuye a muertes innecesarias.

Se ha confirmado que al menos 11 personas murieron y más de 1,400 buscaron atención en salas de emergencia por intoxicación con monóxido de carbono durante el apagón de una semana, solo 400 menos que el total de todo el año 2020. Los niños representaron el 42% de los casos. Estas cifras no incluyen a los residentes que se intoxicaron pero no fueron llevados a un hospital o aquellos que buscaron atención médica en hospitales y clínicas de urgencia que no reportan voluntariamente datos al estado.

Los negros, hispanos y asiáticos sufrieron desproporcionadamente gran parte de las intoxicaciones por monóxido de carbono, según una revisión de datos estatales de hospitales hecha por ProPublica, The Texas Tribune y NBC News. Esos grupos representaron el 72% de las intoxicaciones, mucho más que el 57% que representan en el total de la población del estado.

Durante las últimas dos décadas, la gran mayoría de los estados han implementado leyes o regulaciones que exigen el uso de alarmas de monóxido de carbono en residencias privadas, a menudo después de muertes de alto perfil o intoxicaciones masivas durante tormentas.

Pero en Texas, donde muchos legisladores a menudo ponen la responsabilidad personal por encima de los mandatos estatales, los esfuerzos para aprobar requisitos similares sobre el monóxido de carbono han fracasado una y otra vez.

Los legisladores presentaron una serie de proyectos de ley destinados a renovar la red eléctrica del estado después de la tormenta, cuyo impacto más fuerte se sintió entre el 14 y el 17 de febrero. Las temperaturas bajaron a cifras de un solo dígito, casi 4.5 millones de hogares y negocios de Texas perdieron electricidad en su punto máximo y más de 150 personas murieron, muchas de ellas congeladas en sus viviendas .

Las demandas de un cambio provocaron una serie de renuncias pero, con prácticamente todos los medios y legisladores enfocados en las fallas regulatorias que causaron el apagón, poca atención se prestó a las alarmas de monóxido de carbono. Lo cual resultó en la pérdida de una importante oportunidad para “una crisis de salud pública totalmente prevenible”, dijo Emily Benfer, profesora visitante de la Facultad de Derecho de la Universidad Wake Forest en Carolina del Norte, que se especializa en los riesgos de salud en las viviendas.

Este año, los legisladores están considerando una modernización más amplia de los códigos de construcción estatales que no está relacionada con la tormenta de febrero. Si la medida se aprueba, requeriría la instalación de alarmas de monóxido de carbono en algunas casas y apartamentos nuevos, pero no en los construidos antes de 2022. Además, permitiría que los gobiernos locales tengan la oportunidad de optar por no participar.

“Es completamente impactante”, señaló Benfer. “En una sola semana tenemos evidencia concreta del desprecio deliberado de un gobierno estatal por la salud y seguridad de los residentes más vulnerables del estado”.

“Desastre de salud pública”

Bekele y Mersha llegaron a Houston desde Etiopía hace una década con el sueño de una vida mejor para su familia. Durante años, vivieron en un apartamento pequeño y ahorraron de sus sueldos como empleados de gasolineras hasta que pudieron comprar una casa. En 2017, compraron una de tres habitaciones en el suroeste de Houston, donde planeaban ver crecer a su hijo Beimnet y a su hija Rakeb.

Shalemu Bekele con su esposa, Etenesh Mersha, su hija, Rakeb, e hijo, Beimnet. (Cortesía de la familia Bekele)

Bekele no recuerda si alguien les notificó que la casa no tenía alarmas de monóxido de carbono. La ley estatal requiere que esa información se divulgue cuando se venden viviendas unifamiliares, pero no existe una política en Houston, o en todo Texas, que les exija a los propietarios anteriores instalar una.

“Nunca antes me habían hablado del monóxido de carbono”, dijo Bekele, a través de un intérprete de amárico, su lengua nativa.

Lo primero que recuerda después de desmayarse la mañana del 15 de febrero fue despertar dentro de una ambulancia. Pensó que solo se había desmayado por unos minutos, sin darse cuenta de que ya era pasada la medianoche. Él y su familia habían pasado más de 12 horas inconscientes mientras la amiga de su esposa en Colorado, sin saber su dirección, buscaba frenéticamente en las redes sociales a familiares que pudieran enviar a los socorristas a su hogar.

Bekele comenzó a preguntarles a los paramédicos qué les sucedió a su esposa e hijos, pero antes de que pudiera terminar de pronunciar las palabras volvió a desmayarse.

Finalmente Bekele fue trasladado al Hospital Memorial Hermann en el Centro Médico de Texas, luego de que el conductor tuviera que navegar por caminos cubiertos de hielo. El hospital estaba lleno con pacientes como Bekele. El personal médico estaba atendiendo a tantas personas por intoxicación con monóxido de carbono que se estaban quedando sin camas y tanques de oxígeno, dijo Samuel Prater, director médico del departamento de emergencias.

“Nunca habíamos visto nada como esto”, comentó Prater.

Cada año, el Sistema de Salud Memorial Hermann atiende a unos 50 pacientes por intoxicación con monóxido de carbono en sus 20 salas de emergencia en Houston y los condados alrededor. Pero ese lunes, solo el personal de la sala de emergencias de Prater trató a más de 60. En todo el sistema Memorial Hermann, una de las cadenas de hospitales más grandes de la región de Houston, 224 pacientes buscaron atención médica por intoxicación con monóxido de carbono durante la helada y los cortes de energía, más de cuatro veces de lo que ven en todo un año, según datos facilitados por el hospital.

Rápidamente, Prater consiguió más tanques de oxígeno para la sala de emergencias y estableció protocolos de triaje con el fin de priorizar las limitadas cámaras hiperbáricas del hospital. Las cámaras, que suministran oxígeno a alta presión para eliminar más rápidamente el monóxido de carbono del torrente sanguíneo de los pacientes, son un tratamiento estándar para detener el daño causado por casos graves de intoxicación por CO.

Mientras continuaba la interrupción del suministro eléctrico en millones de hogares de Texas y las temperaturas seguían bajando, Prater les pidió a los encargados de comunicación del Memorial Hermann y la Escuela de Medicina McGovern de UTHealth, donde es profesor, que hablaran con los medios para advertir a los residentes sobre los peligros del monóxido de carbono.

“En términos inequívocos, este es un desastre de salud pública”, dijo Prater en una conferencia de prensa televisada un día después, instando a las personas que habían perdido la energía eléctrica a no meter parrillas de carbón o generadores portátiles dentro de sus hogares. “Además, nunca encienda el vehículo dentro de su garaje y luego entre para tratar de calentarse”.

Más tarde en una entrevista, Prater explicó lo que estaba en juego: el monóxido de carbono es un gas incoloro e inodoro que, en altas concentraciones, puede matar en minutos. En casos graves, quienes sobreviven pueden sufrir daño cerebral permanente y otros problemas de salud a largo plazo, como pérdida de memoria, ceguera y daño auditivo.

Casi el 80% de los pacientes tratados esa semana en las instalaciones del Memorial Hermann por intoxicación por monóxido de carbono eran hispanos o negros, aunque esos grupos solo representan el 55% de la población en la región metropolitana de Houston. La mayoría de los pacientes provenían de vecindarios que el hospital identificó como hogar de “poblaciones vulnerables”.

Parte de esta disparidad es el resultado del lugar donde ocurrieron los cortes de energía. En todo el estado, las zonas con una alta proporción de residentes de color tenían cuatro veces más probabilidades de quedarse sin luz en comparación con las áreas predominantemente blancas, según un análisis de datos de satélites y del censo de Estados Unidos publicados por la Iniciativa de Crecimiento y Uso de Electricidad en Economías en Desarrollo, una colaboración sin fines de lucro entre cinco universidades.

Cuando se cortó el suministro eléctrico, las familias de las comunidades de bajos ingresos enfrentaron mayores desafíos. Pocos tenían parientes con los que pudieran quedarse. Algunos no tenían vehículos que pudieran manejar en carreteras heladas y otros no tenían conocimiento de los refugios locales a los que podían ir a calentarse. Esto dejó a muchos atrapados en hogares congelados y con un mayor riesgo de intoxicación por monóxido de carbono, dijo Melissa DuPont-Reyes, profesora asistente en Texas A&M que estudia las disparidades en el sistema de salud.

“No tienen otra opción para mantenerse calientes”, dijo. “Van a utilizar todos los medios posibles y, lamentablemente, es tóxico”.

Benfer, la profesora de Wake Forest, concuerda: “Las comunidades más marginadas también están marginadas en el acceso a la información, los recursos y una red de seguridad a la que puedan recurrir en tiempos de crisis”.

Más de 24 horas después de desmayarse, Bekele finalmente recuperó el conocimiento dentro de una de las cámaras hiperbáricas del Memorial Hermann. Inmediatamente preguntó por su esposa e hijos, pero una enfermera le dijo que estaba muy enfermo y necesitaba descansar.

Bekele siguió preguntando, hasta que finalmente una doctora se sentó junto a su cama. Lloró cuando ella le dio la noticia.

Su hijo, Beimnet, estaba conectado a un ventilador en la unidad de cuidados intensivos, le dijo la doctora.

En cuanto a su esposa e hija, la doctora le informó que habían muerto antes de que llegaran los paramédicos, envenenadas por un gas del que, hasta ese momento, Bekele nunca había oído hablar.

Suplicando ayuda

Mientras Bekele se recuperaba en el hospital, las llamadas al 911 siguieron inundando las líneas de emergencia en todo el estado.

En Austin, la capital, Franklin Peña se sentía cada vez más impotente al ver a su hijo de 3 años temblar por el frío brutal que se apoderó de su apartamento. En la noche del 16 de febrero, después de dos días sin electricidad, Peña trajo una parrilla de carbón para quemar leña y calentarse.

“Fue tanta mi desesperación que perdí el miedo o perdí la cabeza”, dijo Peña durante una entrevista. “Lo único que pensé fue meter el asador ”.

Poco después de las 6 pm, la esposa de Peña y sus dos hijos comenzaron a vomitar. Con sus propias piernas temblando, Peña marcó el 911.

“Por favor ayúdenme”, le suplicó a la operadora, según una grabación obtenida a través de una solicitud de información pública. Su esposa lloraba al fondo mientras él le decía a la operadora del 911 que su hijo mayor, de 12 años con discapacidad de desarrollo, se había desmayado. Debido a sus altas tasas metabólicas, dicen los expertos, los niños pueden ser más vulnerables a los efectos del monóxido de carbono.

“¿Están todos fuera de peligro?” preguntó la operadora, mientras Peña explicaba que habían huido de su apartamento y estaban afuera en el frío. “Están respirando pero no están bien”, respondió.

Durante 30 intensos minutos, el mexicano de 37 años trató de responder las preguntas de la operadora mientras su esposa y su hijo seguían desmayándose una y otra vez. “ Please , saca fuerzas, mami”, repetía entre sollozos, suplicando a su esposa que resistiera.

Un informe posterior del incidente citó “niveles extremos” de monóxido de carbono en el apartamento de la familia, que según Peña no tenía alarmas para detectar este gas.

No eran requeridas.

Texas le ha dado a los gobiernos locales la discreción de establecer sus propias reglas sobre el monóxido de carbono. Como resultado, los requisitos varían ampliamente y ninguna agencia los rastrea en todo el estado.

Fort Worth y Dallas requieren los dispositivos en viviendas construidas recientemente y en unidades multifamiliares existentes, pero no en la mayoría de las viviendas unifamiliares. Houston solo los exige para las casas nuevas o remodeladas, aunque actualmente está considerando un requisito más amplio que incluirá viviendas ya construidas. La mayoría de las comunidades rurales tienen aún menos supervisión.

Incluso en ciudades con regulaciones más estrictas, muchos hogares carecen de los dispositivos.

En 2017, Austin votó para convertirse en la primera ciudad principal de Texas en requerir alarmas de monóxido de carbono en muchas residencias nuevas y existentes en donde hay electrodomésticos que queman combustible o garajes adjuntos a la casa. El cambio se debió, en parte, a un incidente que ocurrió años antes en donde dos residentes murieron.

La casa de Peña solo tenía electrodomésticos, lo que excluía su apartamento del requisito.

Cuando los socorristas finalmente llegaron a la casa de Peña, lo llevaron a él, a su esposa y a su hijo de 12 años al hospital por intoxicación con monóxido de carbono. A su niño de 3 años se le suministró oxígeno pero no se le transportó al hospital. Peña, quien trabaja pintando y remodelando casas, dijo que todos se han recuperado desde entonces, pero ocasionalmente sufren dolores de cabeza y el trauma de lo que vivieron esa noche.

“Si nosotros vemos que está haciendo frío, sentimos temor”, dijo. “Si vemos que algo hace humo en la estufa, sentimos temor, y nos regresa todo lo que pasamos”.

Los datos estatales de las salas de emergencias no reflejan la cantidad de residentes por ciudad o condado que visitaron hospitales por intoxicación con monóxido de carbono. Pero los registros de llamadas al 911 obtenidos y analizados por ProPublica, The Texas Tribune y NBC News muestran que, en Austin y los alrededores del condado de Travis, la mayoría de las 60 llamadas de emergencia por monóxido de carbono provienen de vecindarios vulnerables, donde los residentes tienen ingresos que equivalen a dos tercios del promedio en el condado de Travis.

Las vulnerabilidades fueron más graves alrededor de Rundberg Lane en el norte de Austin, donde vive Peña. Un tercio de las llamadas de emergencia por monóxido de carbono de la ciudad provinieron de esta comunidad, con más del doble de la proporción de inmigrantes y refugiados del condado. Aproximadamente 4 de cada 5 residentes en el área son personas de color y casi 2 de cada 5 no dominan el inglés, según un análisis de las llamadas al 911 y los datos del censo de Estados Unidos realizado por los medios que realizaron esta investigación.

A tres millas de la casa de Peña, la familia de Lucila Montoya metió una estufa portátil de gas dentro de la casa para cocinar el almuerzo y un asador con carbón encendido para ayudar a calentar la vivienda. No sabían que las brasas siguen emitiendo gases tóxicos, incluso después de que las llamas se apagan.

A la hora, Montoya se empezó a sentir débil pero pensó que era su embarazo. Estaba programada para dar a luz en marzo. Pero luego su hija Tifany, de 7 años, comenzó a llorar y a perder el conocimiento. Montoya tomó el teléfono mientras su esposo, José, se puso a la niña sobre su espalda y la sacó en medio de la tormenta.

“Mi niña se puso mal, empezó a vomitar y mi niña no responde, por favor”, dijo Montoya entre llanto a la operadora del 911 a través de una intérprete en español. “Necesito que vengan rápido... ella apenas respira”.

La madre de 28 años, nativa de Honduras, estuvo hospitalizada un día junto con su hija. Recordó a Tifany diciendo que no podía respirar. “Sentía que iba a morir”, dijo Montoya, cuya casa tampoco tenía alarma de monóxido de carbono.

“Inocentes nosotros, íbamos a acabar con la vida de ella y de paso la mía”, agregó Montoya, quien el mes pasado dio a luz a una niña sana. “Como madre, no le deseo esto a nadie”.

Intentos fallidos de reforma

En las semanas y meses posteriores a los cortes de electricidad, los legisladores de Texas se apresuraron para presentar y aprobar proyectos de ley destinados a renovar la red eléctrica del estado, con el objetivo de prevenir futuros desastres.

“Cuando veo personas que mueren de hipotermia o intoxicación por monóxido de carbono, cuando veo interrupciones en la comunidad empresarial, personas que no pueden conseguir comida caliente, que no pueden conseguir agua... esto no se puede tolerar”, declaró en febrero el vicegobernador de Texas Dan Patrick , un republicano que establece las prioridades legislativas en el Senado estatal.

Pero mientras los legisladores exigían una ola de reformas complejas, hicieron poco para abordar uno de los cambios más simples: establecer un requisito estatal para las alarmas de monóxido de carbono en los hogares.

Los tres principales republicanos del estado — el gobernador Greg Abbott, el presidente de la Cámara de Representantes, Dade Phelan , y Patrick— no respondieron a preguntas sobre por qué la seguridad ante el monóxido de carbono no era una prioridad legislativa.

La representante estatal Donna Howard , una demócrata de Austin y miembro del comité legislativo donde se discutieron las reformas energéticas, dijo que el monóxido de carbono no estaba en su radar. Pero admitió que debería de haberlo estado basado en los hallazgos de ProPublica, The Texas Tribune y NBC News.

“Claramente, a lo largo de esta discusión se nos tuvo que recordar sobre el hecho de que hubo gente que murió”, dijo. “Todos sabemos lo trágico que es, pero nos vemos atrapados en la política, y a veces perdemos de vista el resultado final”.

En Texas, propuestas legislativas que buscan crear regulaciones estatales para las alarmas de monóxido de carbono han fallado repetidamente, incluso después de grandes tormentas que provocaron un aumento en las intoxicaciones y muertes por CO. Un proyecto de ley presentado en 2019 que habría exigido los dispositivos en viviendas de alquiler no obtuvo una audiencia.

La exsenadora estatal Leticia Van de Putte, una demócrata de San Antonio, fue coautora de una medida fallida en 2007, un año después de que el exsenador estatal Frank Madla y su suegra murieran en un incendio en su casa. Su nieta de 5 años, que también estaba en la casa, murió por intoxicación con monóxido de carbono.

La medida habría requerido detectores de humo y alarmas de monóxido de carbono en las nuevas construcciones y casas antiguas a la venta, si las residencias tenían electrodomésticos que usaran combustible.

Pero el proyecto de ley no avanzó a pesar de la estrecha conexión que muchos legisladores tenían con Madla y el testimonio de apoyo de jefes de bomberos, un médico de la sala de emergencias y un representante del centro de control de intoxicaciones.

Grupos de la industria —como la Asociación de Constructores de Texas— se opusieron firmemente en ese momento, criticando las alarmas de monóxido de carbono como una “tecnología no probada” que haría más daño que bien, si se exigía su implementación.

“Creemos que exigir esto crearía una falsa sensación de seguridad para los propietarios y abriría la responsabilidad de los constructores en caso de que fallen”, dijo en 2007 Ned Muñoz, vicepresidente de asuntos regulatorios y asesor general del grupo, durante una audiencia en la Cámara de Representantes. Muñoz también señaló que los dispositivos aún no estaban incluidos en los códigos de construcción internacionales que son ampliamente adoptados por los gobiernos estatales y locales.

Para Van de Putte no queda duda de que el hecho de que el estado no haya aprobado una política sobre el monóxido de carbono costó vidas en febrero.

“Tenemos tantas cosas que protegen lo físico, lo tangible, la propiedad”, dijo Van de Putte, una farmacéutica, sobre las regulaciones actuales. “Al no poner alarmas de monóxido de carbono, eso es lo que estamos valorando. Estamos valorando la propiedad por encima de la vida”.

Desde el fracaso del proyecto de ley de 2007, las alarmas de monóxido de carbono se han vuelto más confiables y ahora son requeridas por la mayoría de los gobiernos estatales y recomendadas por las principales organizaciones de salud y seguridad. El Consejo Internacional de Códigos las recomendó por primera vez en 2009 para nuevas construcciones y viviendas unifamiliares remodeladas, y para complejos de apartamentos en 2012.

A raíz de los nuevos estándares, la Asociación de Constructores de Texas ha cambiado su posición, dijo Scott Norman, director ejecutivo del grupo. Ahora, la organización apoya los requisitos para las alarmas de monóxido de carbono en las residencias recién construidas o remodeladas, señaló Norman.

“Hace décadas, había dudas sobre la confiabilidad”, dijo. “Pero los códigos evolucionan”.

Los defensores de la seguridad contra incendios y los expertos en salud pública dicen que un requisito estatal de alarmas de monóxido de carbono protegería mejor a los residentes y ayudaría a transmitir el mensaje sobre el peligro mortal.

“No sabes si vas a estar expuesto hasta que es demasiado tarde y estás enfermo o muerto”, dijo John Riddle, presidente de la Asociación de Bomberos del Estado de Texas, que representa a los socorristas. “Una ley o requisito a nivel estatal facilitaría mucho las cosas”.

En algunos de los estados que han aprobado reglas sólidas ha habido una reducción significativa de las intoxicaciones, según los expertos en seguridad contra incendios.

“Cuando el estado llega y lo exige, hay continuidad en todo el territorio: hay un mensaje”, dijo Jim Smith, jefe de bomberos del estado en Minnesota, donde las visitas al departamento de emergencias por intoxicación con monóxido de carbono disminuyeron en un 45%, de 411 a 226, en los siete años posteriores a que ese estado aprobara una ley general que requería alarmas en la mayoría de las residencias privadas. “No es diferente a un cinturón de seguridad”.

A principios de abril, la Cámara de Representantes de Texas aprobó un proyecto de ley que requeriría que las ciudades se adhirieran a los códigos de salud y seguridad más recientes para las residencias recién construidas y remodeladas. Según la medida, aún no aprobada por el Senado estatal, se requerirán alarmas de monóxido de carbono en las casas construidas después de 2022 que tengan electrodomésticos que funcionen con combustible o garajes adjuntos. El requisito no se aplicaría en zonas no incorporadas a menos que los condados decidan adoptar los códigos, y las ciudades pueden optar por no participar.

La legislación, tal como está redactada, no protegería a millones de texanos que viven en casas y apartamentos ya construidos.

Volver a empezar

En Houston, luego de pasar cuatro días en el hospital, Bekele estaba lo suficientemente bien como para ser dado de alta, pero no regresó a su casa. Durante días, se mantuvo al lado de la cama de su hijo, saliendo solo para ducharse en la casa de un familiar, mientras una máquina bombeaba oxígeno dentro y fuera de los pulmones del niño.

Bekele estuvo allí, al lado de Beimnet, unos días después, para conmemorar su noveno cumpleaños.

Inicialmente, los médicos le dijeron que su hijo tenía “una probabilidad muy baja de sobrevivir”, dijo Bekele. Incluso si lo hiciera, advirtieron que probablemente sufriría daño cerebral permanente. La exposición prolongada al monóxido de carbono había impedido que el oxígeno llegara a su cerebro.

Día tras día, Bekele tomaba la mano de su hijo y le rogaba a Dios que lo salvara.

A casi dos semanas de ser hospitalizado, Beimnet recuperó el conocimiento. En cuestión de días, dejó de recibir soporte vital y se levantó y comenzó a caminar por el hospital, fortaleciéndose lentamente hasta que estuvo lo suficientemente bien para ser dado de alta.

Dos meses después del accidente, Beimnet toma pastillas para prevenir una recaída con convulsiones como las que sufrió por su exposición al monóxido de carbono pero, por lo demás, hasta el momento, no muestra signos de daño permanente.

“Ahora asiste a la escuela y le va bien”, dijo Bekele, quien desde entonces regresó a trabajar en la gasolinera.

Bekele y Beimnet en abril. (Annie Mulligan para ProPublica/The Texas Tribune/NBC News)

Este mes, Bekele demandó a casi una docena de empresas que suministran energía a la red eléctrica del estado, una de las decenas de demandas que buscan responsabilizar a las empresas de Texas por lesiones graves y muertes causadas durante los cortes de energía del invierno. Las compañías eléctricas aún no han presentado una respuesta a la demanda de Bekele en el Tribunal de Distrito del condado de Harris, pero en casos similares presentados en otras partes de Texas, niegan su responsabilidad por muertes relacionadas con los apagones.

Bekele no sabe qué pasará con el caso, pero dijo que ninguna cantidad de dinero puede compensar lo que perdió.

Todavía no ha tenido fuerzas para regresar al lugar que él y su familia llamaban hogar antes de que muriera su esposa y su hija. Con la esperanza de un nuevo comienzo, tomó el dinero recaudado por sus seres queridos en GoFundMe y lo destinó al depósito de seguridad y al alquiler de un apartamento cercano. Es más pequeño que su antigua casa en la ciudad, pero con suficiente espacio para los dos.

No mucho después de mudarse, Bekele descubrió un problema, uno que planea solucionar lo antes posible: el apartamento no tiene alarmas de monóxido de carbono.

Acerca de los datos : Los datos de las salas de emergencias estatales son del 13 al 20 de febrero y provienen del Texas Syndromic Surveillance System. Los pacientes informaron voluntariamente sobre su raza y etnia. Se eliminó del análisis un total de 11% de las personas que no informaron sobre su raza o etnia. Otro análisis sobre la edad de los pacientes eliminó menos del 5% de las personas cuya edad faltaba. Los datos económicos y demográficos provienen de la Encuesta de la Comunidad Estadounidense realizada durante cinco años y publicada en 2019 y se analizaron a nivel de tramo censal. A menos de que se indique lo contrario, las áreas con llamadas de EMS se compararon con toda el área de servicio de EMS de la ciudad de Austin y el condado de Travis.

by Jeremy Schwartz , Kiah Collier and Vianna Davila

In January 2014, power plants owned by Texas’ largest electricity producer buckled under frigid temperatures. Its generators failed more than a dozen times in 12 hours, helping to bring the state’s electric grid to the brink of collapse.

The incident was the second in three years for North Texas-based Luminant, whose equipment malfunctions during a more severe storm in 2011 resulted in a $750,000 fine from state energy regulators for failing to deliver promised power to the grid.

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In the earlier cold snap, the grid was pushed to the limit and rolling blackouts swept the state, spurring an angry Legislature to order a study of what went wrong.

Experts hired by the Texas Public Utility Commission, which oversees the state’s electric and water utilities, concluded that power-generating companies like Luminant had failed to understand the “critical failure points” that could cause equipment to stop working in cold weather.

In May 2014, the PUC sought changes that would require energy companies to identify and address all potential failure points, including any effects of “weather design limits.”

This story is part of a collaboration between ProPublica and the Texas Tribune. Learn more

Luminant argued against the proposal .

In comments to the commission, the company said the requirement was unnecessary and “may or may not identify the ‘weak links’ in protections against extreme temperatures.”

“Each weather event [is] dynamic,” company representatives told regulators. “Any engineering analysis that attempted to identify a specific weather design limit would be rendered meaningless.”

By the end of the process, the PUC agreed to soften the proposed changes. Instead of identifying all possible failure points in their equipment, power companies would need only to address any that were previously known.

The change, which experts say has left Texas power plants more susceptible to the kind of extreme and deadly weather events that bore down on the state last week, is one in a series of cascading failures to shield the state’s electric grid from winter storms, ProPublica and The Texas Tribune found.

Lawmakers and regulators, including the PUC and the industry-friendly Texas Railroad Commission, which regulates the oil and gas industry, have repeatedly ignored, dismissed or watered down efforts to address weaknesses in the state’s sprawling electric grid, which is isolated from the rest of the country.

About 46,000 megawatts of power — enough to provide electricity to 9 million homes on a high-demand day — were taken off the grid last week due to power-generating failures stemming from winter storms that battered the state for nearly seven consecutive days. Dozens of deaths , including that of an 11-year-old boy, have been tied to the weather. At the height of the crisis, more than 4.5 million customers across the state were without power.

Snow surrounds an Austin Energy station in Austin, Texas, on Thursday, Feb. 18, 2021. Many Texas residents are still without power and working water. Sergio Flores for The Texas Tribune

As millions of Texans endured days without power and water, experts and news organizations pointed to unheeded warnings in a federal report that examined the 2011 winter storm and offered recommendations for preventing future problems. The report by the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission and the North American Electric Reliability Corporation concluded, among other things, that power companies and natural gas producers hadn’t properly readied their facilities for cold weather, including failing to install extra insulation, wind breaks and heaters.

Another federal report released three years later made similar recommendations with few results. Lawmakers also failed to pass measures over the past two decades that would have required the operator of the state’s main power grid to ensure adequate reserves to shield against blackouts, provided better representation for residential and small commercial consumers on the board that oversees that agency and allowed the state’s top emergency-planning agency to make sure power plants were adequately “hardened” against disaster.

Experts and consumer advocates say the challenge to the 2014 proposal by Luminant and other companies, which hasn’t been previously reported, is an example of the industry’s outsize influence over the regulatory bodies that oversee them.

“Too often, power companies get exactly what they want out of the PUC,” said Tim Morstad, associate director of AARP Texas. “Even well-intentioned PUC staff are outgunned by armies of power company lawyers and their experts. The sad truth is that if power companies object to something, in this case simply providing information about the durability of certain equipment, they are extremely likely to get what they want.”

Luminant representatives declined to answer questions about the company’s opposition to the weatherization proposal. PUC officials also declined to comment.

Michael Webber, an energy expert and mechanical engineering professor at the University of Texas at Austin, said the original proposal could have helped in identifying trouble spots within the state’s power plants.

“Good engineering requires detailed understanding of the performance limits of each individual component that goes into a system,” Webber said. “Even if 99.9% of the equipment is properly rated for the operational temperatures, that one part out of 1,000 can bring the whole thing down."

Luminant defended its performance during last week’s deep freeze, saying it produced about 25% to 30% of the power on the grid Monday and Tuesday, compared with its typical market share of about 18%.

In a public statement, officials said the company executed a “significant winter preparedness strategy to keep the electricity flowing during this unprecedented, extended weather event.” They declined to disclose whether any of the company’s generating units failed during last week’s winter storms.

State officials are again promising reforms. Lawmakers have called on officials with the PUC and the Electric Reliability Council of Texas, which operates the power grid that spans most of the state, to testify at hearings later this week. Gov. Greg Abbott has called on lawmakers to mandate the winterization of generators and power plants, and Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton said he was launching an investigation into ERCOT and almost a dozen power companies, including Luminant. Separately, the PUC announced its own investigation into ERCOT.

The Blanco Vista neighborhood of San Marcos was blanketed with several inches of snow Feb. 15 after a massive winter weather system engulfed Texas, causing widespread power outages across the state. Jordan Vonderhaar for The Texas Tribune

Texas is the only state in the continental U.S. that operates its own electric grid, making it difficult for other regions to send excess power in times of crisis, especially when they are facing their own shortages, as they were last week. All other states in the Lower 48, as well as peripheral areas of Texas , are connected to one of two grids that span the eastern and western halves of the country.

Because Texas operates its own grid, the state isn’t subject to federal oversight by FERC, which can investigate power outages but can’t mandate reforms. Many energy experts say the very nature of the state’s deregulated electric market is perhaps most to blame for last week’s power crisis.

In Texas, a handful of mega-utilities controlled the distribution and pricing of the power they produced until two decades ago, when the Legislature shifted to a system where companies would compete for customers on the open market. Lawmakers said the change would result in lower power bills and better service, a promise that some experts and advocates say hasn’t been kept.

But under this system, power companies aren’t required to produce enough electricity to get the state through crises like the one last week. In fact, they are incentivized to ramp up generation only when dwindling power supplies have driven up prices.

Other states with deregulated power markets, including California, have made reforms and added additional safeguards after experiencing similar catastrophes.

“The fault on this one is at the feet of the Legislature and the regulators for their failure to protect the people rather than profits, the utility companies, rather than investing millions of dollars in weatherization that had been recommended in review after review of these kinds of incidents,” said Tom “Smitty” Smith, a longtime Texas consumer advocate and environmental activist. “They have chosen not to do that because it would be too expensive for the utilities and ultimately to the consumers.”

“We'll Be Opportunistic”

Three years after the 2011 storms, the Texas electric grid faced another major cold weather test when a polar vortex swept across the state. Freezing temperatures helped to knock out nearly 50 generating units at Texas power plants in the first week of 2014, bringing ERCOT perilously close to ordering rotating outages.

The event quickly faded from public attention because it was a near-miss that didn’t actually leave people without electricity or heat. But because the state had come so close to blackouts, the North American Electric Reliability Corporation, which has some authority to regulate power companies in the country, launched an investigation. The probe found similar problems to those that dogged the state after the 2011 storms, primarily equipment that failed to stand up to the freezing temperatures.

Despite the equipment failures that brought the electric grid to the brink of disaster, the polar vortex was a financial windfall for power-generation companies. In the months that followed the storm, some of the companies stressed to investors the financial benefits of the two days of cold weather and accompanying high energy prices.

“This business benefited significantly from increased basis and storage spreads during the polar vortex earlier this year,” Joe McGoldrick, an executive with Houston-based CenterPoint Energy, said in a November 2014 earnings call. “To the extent that we get another polar vortex or whatever, absolutely, we’ll be opportunistic and take advantage of those conditions.”

The company did not respond to requests for comment.

Texas has relied on the principle that higher prices will spur greater power generation when the state needs it most, a structure that helps explain the persistence of blackouts, said Ed Hirs, a University of Houston energy expert.

In extreme weather events like last week’s freeze, prices per megawatt jumped from an average of around $35 to ERCOT’s maximum of $9,000.

Hirs said it’s in the power generators’ interest to “push ERCOT into a tight situation where price goes up dramatically.”

“They are giving generators incentive to withdraw service,” he added. “How else do you get the price to go up?”

Texans have already been hit with sky-high bills since last week’s event, with some climbing as high as $16,000 , according to The New York Times. At an emergency meeting Sunday, the three-member PUC ordered electric companies to suspend disconnections for nonpayment and delay sending invoices or bill estimates.

Power companies weren’t the only ones that saw the 2014 event more as a success story than a sign of weakness.

ERCOT concluded that operators “handled a difficult situation well” and took “prompt and decisive actions” that had prevented systemwide blackouts. In the “lessons learned” section of its final report, the agency promoted the continuation of its winterization site visits, which are not mandatory.

Winterization efforts were paying dividends in the form of fewer generating units falling victim to cold weather, the report stated.

Federal regulators agreed. During a meeting of the National Association of Regulatory Utility Commissioners in February 2014, a month after the storm, a top-ranking official from NERC stated that the response showed “industry is learning [and] using the resources and tools available to improve their preparations and operations of the grid during a significant weather event.”

But NERC’s investigation exposed problems that would bring Texas to a crisis point last week.

A car moved Thursday through a West Austin neighborhood that was without power. Jordan Vonderhaar for The Texas Tribune

In the 2014 report, NERC methodically laid out how power-generating equipment failed during the cold snap, detailing 62 examples that included frozen circulating water that caused a supply loss and moisture in the air causing valves to freeze. In all, those cold-related failures were responsible for the vast majority of lost power during the event, the agency found.

The incident also highlighted the need to improve winter performance of natural gas pipelines, which NERC found hampered the ability of gas-fired power plants to generate electricity. The agency declined to comment, saying it doesn’t discuss investigations.

Natural gas and power generation are highly dependent on each other: Natural gas processing requires electricity, which may be produced in turn by burning natural gas.

Citing preliminary figures from ERCOT that show natural-gas-fired power plants performed worse than those fueled by other types of energy during this year’s power crisis, energy experts say producers and distributors of that fossil fuel played a major role in the catastrophe.

Natural gas producers and pipeline companies in Texas are regulated by the Railroad Commission.

R.J. DeSilva, a spokesperson for the agency, declined to say whether it requires natural gas producers and pipeline companies to weatherize wellheads or pipelines. He noted that poor road conditions made it impossible for crews from natural gas companies to inspect wells and said some producers reported “the inability to produce gas because they did not have power.”

Because so many homes are heated with natural gas, fossil fuel plays a much more central role in the winter than it does in the hot summer months.

“When all this began, millions of Texans wrapped their pipes to keep them from freezing, and the Railroad Commission didn’t order — has never ordered — the gas companies, the gas producers and gas pipeline companies … to wrap their pipes to protect them from freezing,” said Smith, the consumer advocate.

Failed Legislation

After days of scrambling to address the myriad crises that pummeled his city last week, former longtime state Rep. Sylvester Turner — now mayor of Houston, the state’s largest city — had a message for his former colleagues.

“You need to dust off my bill, and you need to refile it,” the Democrat said during a press conference Friday, referring to legislation he filed in 2011 that would have required the PUC to ensure ERCOT maintained adequate reserve power to prevent blackouts. “Because it’s not about just holding hearings.”

The state’s deregulated market is to blame for the crisis, according to some experts who say the catastrophe shows that the system ultimately prizes profits over people. But some of the architects of the system are doubling down.

In a blog post published last week on the website of U.S. House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy, former Texas Gov. Rick Perry suggested that the current disaster was worth it if it keeps rates low and federal regulators from requiring changes to the system.

“Texans would be without electricity for longer than three days to keep the federal government out of their business,” said Perry, who was governor from 2000-15 and presided over the early days of energy deregulation in Texas. “Try not to let whatever the crisis of the day is take your eye off of having a resilient grid that keeps America safe personally, economically, and strategically.”

Perry, who returned to his job on the board of Dallas-based pipeline giant Energy Transfer LP after serving as energy secretary in the Trump administration, received at least $141,000 in campaign contributions from Luminant’s former parent company, TXU Corp., between 2002 and 2009, when he was governor.

On Saturday, Turner warned about the soaring residential utility bills that Texans would be getting in the coming weeks. In 2012, when Turner was still a state representative, he wrote a letter to the then-chairman of the House State Affairs Committee, raising concerns about PUC rule changes that increased the price caps companies could charge for power to $9,000 per megawatt.

Those price caps remain the same today.

This time, Turner called on lawmakers to pursue substantive reforms that don’t simply “scapegoat” ERCOT, referring to the increasing calls for an investigation into the council, including by Abbott. “You must include the Public Utility Commission in these reforms because they provide direct oversight over ERCOT, and all of those commissioners are appointed by the governor,” Turner said.

In 2013, Turner attempted, unsuccessfully, to pass a measure that would have replaced the governor’s appointees on the PUC with an elected commissioner. The same year, he tried to salvage a measure that would have increased the administrative penalty for electric industry participants that violate state law or PUC rules.

The Texas Sunset Advisory Commission, which audits state agencies every 12 years to determine how they can better function or if they should be abolished, recommended in 2013 that the PUC exercise additional oversight of ERCOT, including a review and approval of annual budgets and annual review of “PUC-approved performance measures tracking ERCOT’s operations.”

One of the recommendations called on the PUC to increase the administrative penalty to $100,000 a day per violation, stating that the $25,000 daily penalty “may not be sufficient for violations that affect grid reliability, which can cause serious grid failures, such as blackouts.”

Lawmakers passed a bill during that year’s legislative session that adopted many of those recommendations, but the change in penalties was left out. An amendment by Turner to restore the higher fee in the bill failed.

Another former Democratic lawmaker who now leads a major Texas city similarly tried and failed to pass legislation that would bring greater accountability to the state.

In 2015, Dallas Mayor Eric Johnson, then a state representative, authored a bill that would have required state agencies, including the PUC, to plan and budget for severe weather using state climatologist data.

“It would have forced state agencies to prepare for an event like what just happened and to account for that in their agency plans,” Johnson said during a Thursday press conference addressing the crisis. “It was quite unfortunate, because we can’t say that it would have prevented this situation but certainly may have.”

Then, two years ago, facilities owned or controlled by utilities regulated by the PUC were exempted from legislation that requires the Texas Division of Emergency Management to “identify methods for hardening utility facilities and critical infrastructure in order to maintain essential services during disasters.”

The bill’s author, Republican state Rep. Dennis Paul , declined to comment. State Sen. Eddie Lucio Jr., who co-sponsored the measure, said he did not know why the PUC was exempted.

Jacob Duran warmed his hands over a grill Thursday after his apartment lost power due to the severe winter storm that hit Texas. Miguel Gutierrez Jr./The Texas Tribune

“Demanding Answers”

For the past two decades, consumer groups have fought without success for a larger role in how the state manages its power grid. Giving residents a stronger presence on the ERCOT board would have forced the agency to take the lessons of extreme winter storms in 2011 and 2014 more seriously, said Randall Chapman, a ratepayer attorney and longtime consumer advocate.

“It would have changed things entirely,” Chapman said. “Residential consumers are the ones who have been through outages before. They are the ones with the broken water pipes, the ones freezing in their homes. They would be demanding answers.”

Chapman said the groups were stymied when the Legislature agreed to reserve only a single seat on the ERCOT board for a representative of residential consumers. In comparison, eight seats, including alternates, are filled by representatives of energy retailers, power generators and investor-owned utility companies.

“Residential consumers need a stronger voice over at ERCOT,” Morstad of AARP Texas said. “Decisions are made every week that affect the health and safety of millions of Texans. You need a strong voice there to call B.S. when companies aren’t following through on winterizing or other things that are critical to reliability of the electric system.”

In 2011, Texas Comptroller Glenn Hegar co-authored a bill while serving in the state legislature that would have increased the size of the ERCOT board and allowed for more consumer representation. It didn’t pass.

Hegar said the failures displayed in the last week once again bring the significance of representation to the forefront.

“As a result of this extremely unfortunate event where so many people were out of power and now have damage to their homes and their businesses, there needs to be a broader range of representation on the board and to bring those voices as we move forward in trying to decide what we want our electric grid to be,” Hegar said.