[music] Welcome to GAS, the true story of a toxic trained derailment. I'm Ron Scholl. Last time on GAS, many residents returning home reported chemical odors that made them ill. We now continue with part two, chapters three and four, chapter three, disbelief. In the photograph, they just abandoned us to the railroad, Lucinda Hodges. Elle he believed residents could smell chemicals related to the cressellate, close to the site. While the material was still lying there and hadn't been cleaned up at all, well, yeah, after they cleaned it up and removed it, was that adequate? According to some people, they could still smell it, she said. During the 17-day evacuation and afterward, most of the complaints of a pesticide smell came from people nowhere near the immediate site. Those complaints drove the investigation into the chlorinated compounds. The EPA's Chris Weis said the smell was associated with the light fraction of the cressellate solution, but Weis wouldn't discount other order sources, such as brand new railroad ties that had been pressure treated with creosote, he said. Yet, two or three drops of methylphenol but one component of potassium cressellate could fill up a room, and 17,000 gallons of cressellate had spilled. Phenols and chlorinated compounds smelled like pesticide. Weis also considered a psychological component. People associated smells like creosote with the trauma of the chlorine spill, he said. They said that it was really smelly and they didn't like it and it made them feel it reminded them of the incident. But people were having physical reactions that drove them from their homes, sending some to the emergency room. People far from the site smelled spill chemicals and this was an exposure, not an unpleasant reminder. During full re-entry, warnings regarding smells and reactions were understated and limited to near the site. It hadn't seemed expected at all that residents might have adverse reactions to returning home. Garren Smith didn't expect chlorine odors to remain around Alberton, but I know people reported otherwise, he said. Some people Smith thought were chemophobic and want to relate everything to the spill. Chlorine was simply too reactive a chemical, he said. But Smith did consider the spill site as a source of both sulfur, methylmercaptin and pesticide-like smells, phenols and chlorinated phenols, at least until the soil was removed. What if the wind came from that direction? The smells that should transport furthest would be the sulfur compounds in the sparge cressellate, Smith said. People can smell those at half a part per billion, and I would say, given the size of the spill, that that could easily go several miles. One could smell a skunk several blocks away and that was the release of just a small sense sack. You get a ditch full of the same sort of compounds, he said, you're going to smell it for miles. To Alberton and beyond. As for the smells from the creosol, phenols or chlorinated phenols, Smith said, given the size of the spill, I would expect those to be easily detectable at three quarters of a mile. You also get what's called boundary layer compression. So overnight, as the air cools off, it compacts into a more concentrated layer, and then it does some topographical draining or pressure draining too, so it's a much more concentrated smell. People along the river are going to be more positioned to intercept that packet. People at Sawmill Gulch three miles down river reported a pesticide smell the night after the spill. "That doesn't surprise me," Smith said. "I think they could smell it. I think they would smell the creosol. I think they would smell the sulfur. I think they could smell the chlorine." Even if no mixed cloud had deposited compounds, if people smelled odors off-gassing from the site and moving on wind currents, they were exposed to these chemicals, Smith agreed. Inversions, even daytime, the sulfur's smell from the French town mill was often noticeable 15 miles to the east at ground level in Missoula, upriver but downwind. Missoulians were all too familiar with this. Post-spill, little air monitoring was done other than for chlorine. Once chlorinated compounds deposition proved negative in soil and wipe tests, odor complaints were not further investigated. Smith hadn't been concerned about the decision to leave the contaminated soil staged by the site after re-entry. "I don't think that chlorofanols would transport in quantities sufficient for me to worry about," he said. The creosol and phenol would potentially volatileize, and if the wind was right and the time of day was right, people could smell that. If they were sensitized, it might trigger something, but I don't think it's going to be a large exposure for people that are half a mile away. Many people would mention that smells associated with the spill were more noticeable after a rain, even far from the site. Clouds are well known for being vacuum cleaners of air pollution, Smith said, so they actually concentrate the materials as they go through the air. So when you breathe in the droplets of mist, they're going to have a concentrated level of pollutants in the droplets. They call them vacuum cleaners of the atmosphere. So as the cloud moves here, it scrubs it out and it concentrates it in the droplets, and drops it somewhere else. If the odor source was five miles away and you normally wouldn't smell it, you could possibly smell it if the clouds took up some of that? Yes, Smith said. "As for leaving the soil behind after re-entry," he said, "I don't think it subjected people to an undue chemical insult, but some people have become sensitized. If they've been sensitized, I'm not convinced it's going to transport that much," he said. "I wasn't out there, so I don't know how perceptible the smell was and how far it went." Smith's latter statement was key. He, along with officials, did not experience what exposed residents had experienced, especially those now sensitized. When determining the criteria for re-entry, county attorney Mike Sahay said, "Advised Leahy that a state of emergency could not be sustained based on some people experiencing hypersensitivity reactions to Albertan." It became an individual matter versus a larger-scale population matter, Leahy explained, "Size mattered." But what had Leahy thought? She was head of the Missoula Health Department. "Did I think the emergency should continue because what appeared to be a minority of the population was concerned about going back, or if their symptoms were being renewed if they were residual? No, I didn't." Leahy noted from the April 21 conference that if a "bunch of people reported certain symptoms upon re-entry, then the consensus groups would reconvene to consider the problem." Officials and doctors had also assured that any sensitivity would be short-lived. But no one surveyed the incidences of hypersensitivity among residents returning home. No consensus group could reconvene without information. Medically, no one really knew what residents were experiencing because no one was asking. While the DEQ now owned the spill site for cleanup, no one owned the assurance of the health of the returning residents. It was an ATSDR's job they would merely study in a process that took years to even report on. Weiss didn't believe many residents had sensitivity to returning home. My recollection was that it was a few people, maybe several people, he said. Yet, he didn't know that a large group would have made a difference based on the environmental testing. Weiss said no incident official or consultant favored making hypersensitivity a criterion for allowing re-entry. Once someone was sensitized, he said they're going to be sensitized. Preventing them from going back to their home wouldn't really have helped. This would make sense if a person was going back to an otherwise neutral environment. They might have exposure to various triggers anywhere. But it was clear some residents were having reactions specifically and strongly to the environment in which they had suffered their acute exposure and to apparent spill-related odors that now lingered. It was their sensitivity that drove some of them from their homes to seek refuge elsewhere. Did health officials have the responsibility to at least communicate to those reporting sensitivity reactions, you may never be able to return? "Well," he said, "that would have been huge speculation in my part to say you may never be able to return. I had no way of determining that. But for those people sensitized to the Albertan area, nobody knew when their symptoms were going to end. No," she agreed, "nobody does. But no one was telling them this could go on indefinitely. We don't know." Leahy, "I wouldn't make a blanket statement to them because I don't know. I don't know their biology. I don't know their lung condition. I don't know if they're a smoker, all of that stuff. Even if you knew all of that, I don't know that you could make a prediction. I wouldn't. And I wouldn't do it for a whole group of people either." The science on this type of exposure, as we talked about earlier, was not really present to the extent that it is for occupational exposures. It was really difficult, so you've got a mixed population, everything from kids to people that are older to people that have lung problems. You just couldn't make a blanket statement like that. Ironically, Leahy's handouts had warned of residual chlorine possibly being around, though Weiss thought this highly unlikely. "Yeah, we always take pretty big precautions. Give precautionary statements," Leahy said. "And we didn't know that there couldn't be a pocket in somebody's basement, and we didn't want people to encounter that if there was a pocket of gas." In other words, we don't know, but just in case. But there was no such precautionary statement about sensitivity to returning home, except assurance that any sensitivity would only last up to eight weeks. That had been Weiss's prediction. At the time, however, sensitivity was known to possibly last indefinitely. It didn't seem an irresponsible public statement to simply emphasize that for those people having hypersensitivity reactions to the Albertan environment, there were no guarantees as to when they would stop having these reactions. Leahy admitted nobody knew. This was the complaint that Lucinda Hodges and others repeatedly made that no one warned them they could have sensitivity issues indefinitely, and especially to the Albertan area. In fact, the blanket statement was quite the opposite, always safe, come home. That statement seemed irresponsible to people now sensitized. The final guidelines Leahy and the Health Department passed out for returning evacuees made little or no mention of hypersensitivity. We didn't, Leahy admitted. So how was hypersensitivity awareness communicated to the residents? Leahy said she warned residents quite a bit about hypersensitivity, but then qualified this. I don't think at the big meetings, but I know one-on-one I'd been doing that when people would talk to us. I referred people to their physicians like after a meeting. I say, you know, go see your physician. Of course, such private discussions were not documented or publicized and the answer is not shared with the group. One of the main criticisms regarding officials shutting down open questions during the evacuee meetings. Leahy once again emphasized that not everything revolved around the segment of evacuees that were having complaints. We did not have, as an entry criteria, complete absence of odor, she said. We did not have that. So we had people that smelled it, didn't like it. We had people that smelled it, wanted to go back. I mean, really angry. They wanted to go back. We had people that couldn't smell it. We had this whole mix of expectations, so we really couldn't go by smell. But we did go by whether or not it was present, as tested, and at least getting the bulk of the material removed. But that soil stayed on site for weeks. And officials also had people that didn't like it because they experienced powerful health reactions. Leahy acknowledged that perhaps not everyone got the sensitivity messages prior to reentry. "It is very believable to me that it was not received," she said. "It wasn't emphasized, I think, to all evacuees, because not all evacuees came to all of the meetings. No warning was published." As far as warning, returning residents of hypersensitivity to the Alberton area, Weiss said, "The standing recommendations that we make to people is that if you feel bad, you should, you know, go and speak with your physician, and don't go back to your house if it's intolerable for you at your house." However, he added, "We had limited ability to move people." But avoidance of the Alberton area was at best a temporary strategy, and ultimately depended on private resources absent government intervention. If residents had long-term health problems aggravated by being home, they would be on their own. The reason so little information on sensitivity was distributed in the Health Department guidelines and media was apparently because officials did not believe sensitivity was a public health issue in the short run, and any sensitivity would soon disappear. Sensitivity, minimally and vaguely defined to the public, was framed as a temporary inconvenience, an odor issue. Residents were given a clear expectation that they could safely come home. Leahy was aware of some complaints after general reentry. "I remember the Krisco family," she recalled, "I felt bad about it. The whole family was having an experience. I felt kind of confused that other people were not having any experience or smelling anything, and then it got to where the town was fighting with itself on whether or not it was good or bad to be back. At that point, I had a hard time trying to figure out which to give more weight to." Leahy emphasized that she had believed the previous complaints of visiting residents prior to reentry. Note, visits she didn't even recall having taken place after April 13. But now with the Krisco's, she did maybe just wonder why one whole family would have all the same symptoms, and somebody living right next door wouldn't, she said. "I'm not saying they didn't have the symptoms, and I'm also not saying that people that said they couldn't smell anything, maybe couldn't smell anything, because at that point the town began just fighting over what the reality was. And there were two different realities there." Leahy appeared to be muddling objectivity and subjectivity. It was entirely plausible that two people in Alberton, one injured and sensitized and one less injured and not sensitized, had two very different experiences of returning home. She didn't outright say she didn't believe the Krisco's, but she didn't say she did believe them, as well as believe those who reported no problems. Leahy re-emphasized, "It was interesting to me that I didn't know anything about that particular family, and that all four were having symptoms." Leahy said the family never contacted her, but she never contacted the Krisco's. Presumably, she also did not know the health status of the Krisco's neighbors right next door. There was no record of the health department surveying any of the Krisco's neighbors. In May, Leahy also made notes on a few other people directly complaining of odors, which she attributed to the soil, as well as some people with continuing symptoms that caused trips to the emergency room. Then on May 20, Leahy entered the hospital and was out of touch until mid-June, during which she was hospitalized following the birth of her premature baby. When I came back, she said, I was only hearing from people that, frankly, by that time, were saying some very strange things. Leahy characterized any future complaints as arising from the fringe, specifying Roger Chalmers of Nine Mile Valley. "He wasn't even in the evacuated zone," she said. "I just think he was a strange person. I don't know that he had anything to do with it. I don't even think they were involved with the whole thing to start with, so that one I didn't give a lot of credence to." During the summer, Leahy made no further note of complaints regarding the Albertan spill. The Bazula Health Department was now out of the loop. No tracking was done by officials or the media to determine how many people were having health problems they related to being home. Officials had a rough idea of how many families continued to stay out, but no understanding of how many people suffered quietly after coming home. In this context of scant data gathering, Leahy's notion of public versus individual health problems didn't matter. Health officials would never have a reason to reconvene absent a process to determine the status of residents' health upon returning home. The two different realities that Leahy referred to were actually among many responses across a spectrum, and all were real. Health officials should have given weight to all, instead of wondering which was true. Lucinda Hodges called the Albertan Community dysfunctional. To her, Albertan was mostly old-timers who wouldn't accept outsiders, and who threw up brick walls against health complaints. Most of the people who left Albertan after the spill were newcomers, by definition outsiders. She said of Mayor Jean Curtis, "His first official act as mayor was that the spill would never ever be discussed at a town council meeting," Hodges laughed, recalling the first town meeting after re-entry. For many Albertan spill victims, being home was no longer home. "They just abandoned us to the railroad," Hodges said. Chapter 4. Bronze. Epigraph. Although it was a large volume of chlorine released, we had like a drop of dye in a large bucket of water. MRL attorney Randy Cox. For two weeks, MRL and the EPA promised a model of the initial chlorine concentrations within the exclusion zone on the morning of April 11, 1996. MRL contractor Marine Environmental was tasked with the job. At first, the unknown size of the rupture was the excuse for the hold-up, then the lack of precise weather information. But a model will be made available, MRL's Dan Watts promised. In the end, nothing was made available to returning evacuees. Monitoring was done on April 11. It just wasn't shared with residents. More sophisticated modeling began when Chris Weiss arrived April 14, though it too went unpublicized. The modeling suggested that Albertan had been heavily dosed with chlorine. At the time of the initial release, exposures in Albertan could easily have been over 20 parts per million, Weiss later said. "It's based on speculation," he said, "but it was the best model Marine came up with." Planning scenarios and EPA files modeled at a 10,000-pound or 50,000-pound release with west winds at five miles per hour with dose Albertan with three to 20 parts per million or higher, within an hour or less. Weiss noted this modeling was done in case of subsequent large releases. Any modeling specific for the initial release was not included in EPA Albertan files. Weiss nevertheless believed Albertan had been hit with a significant dose, and the initial release was estimated at over 60 tons, much higher than the above scenarios. Dan Watts ultimately told residents it is impossible to get an accurate model. But it wasn't impossible to release the model scenarios. Weiss, "I can't speak for Dan Watts, but I would speculate that they didn't like the results of the model. Almost any modeling scenario that I recall running showed that the concentrations of chlorine and Albertan were through the roof. They were extremely dangerous." Physical damage in people's injuries point in the same direction he said. But the EPA did not release this information either, at the time. "Well, again," Weiss said, "nobody asked me for the information. I think the modeling information that I had was consistent with what I told the public. Depending upon where you were and what you did in the minutes following the release, you could have been exposed to very, very high concentrations of chlorine gas," Weiss said. But the public record, the media record, and the recollections of residents did not reflect that this modeling information was ever publicized, or that people were told they were possibly exposed to very high concentrations. In fact, most people were led to believe that their assumed mild to moderate exposures would result in no long-term health problems. Also not publicized, ATSDR did its own modeling for Albertan in 1997 as they prepared for another health study. ATSDR outlined several scenarios using only 9.5 tons released over 5 minutes with a 2.2 mile per hour wind as the chosen scenario. And so, the model showed heavy exposure. At just over 2 miles, 21 parts per million was expected, 32 maximum, arriving in 59 minutes and passing 39 minutes later. At 2 and 3/4 miles, 13 parts per million was expected, with 20 maximum, arriving in 71 minutes and passing 44 minutes later. In ATSDR's higher release scenario using 91 tons, everything bumped up with much higher levels at each distance. Even with their chosen scenario of 9.5 tons, ATSDR modeled that an estimated average concentration of 21 parts per million, twice the level immediately dangerous to life and health, and a maximum concentration of 32 parts per million would reach Albertan within an hour, highly dangerous levels. There was a trade-off, concentration went down with distance, but potential duration of exposure went up. Martin Schroeder, a University of Montana graduate student in biology, did his own modeling using ATSDR data to extrapolate for 60 tons, which gave similar results of dangerous concentrations in Albertan and beyond. Schroeder emphasized the uncertainty of variables. He wrote, "Based on the large variability of the visible injury to the vegetation, downwind concentrations of chlorine gas were probably extremely variable, both spatially and overtime." One Albertan family may have received a much greater dose than another, just based on the location and the gas behavior. Of course, the Chlorine Institute prior to Albertan had already developed a standard Chlorine dispersion computer model under several factual scenarios for dry air over a flat surface. In the Institute's scenario number 12, a 90-ton chlorine tank with a 9-inch wide rupture, releasing at night under mostly cloudy skies with low winds, produced 25 parts per million up to 3 miles away, 10 parts per million, 3 to 5 miles away, and 5 parts per million about 7 miles away. What did potential levels mean for health risks? Under the acute exposure guideline levels (AEGL used by the EPA), under level 2, which ranged from 2.8 parts per million at a 10-minute exposure to 0.71 parts per million at an 8-hour exposure, people quote, "could experience irreversible or other serious long-lasting health effects." Level 1 was less serious and the level 3 level was life-threatening. The Albertan air model suggested exposures to at least the AEGL 2 level. It was little wonder that MRL did not publicize various models. They all suggested that the Albertan area had been thoroughly dosed. In the 2010s, government and industry jointly studied compressed liquid chlorine releases at the Dugway Proving Ground, a U.S. Army facility established to test biological and chemical weapons located in Utah. The Jack Rabbit 2 tests examined 5 to 20-ton chlorine releases to update modeling to inform the chlorine institute's pamphlet "Guidens on Estimating the Area Affected by a Choring Release" and the DOT emergency response guidebook. Two 10-ton releases below the liquid level of the tanks had maximum chlorine readings of greater than 50 parts per million and 50 parts per million at about 7 miles distance. At three miles distance, the eastern edge of Albertan, maximum measurements were greater than 50 parts per million and 340 parts per million extremely dangerous levels. A 20-ton release below the liquid level had a maximum chlorine reading of 100 parts per million at 7 miles and 300 parts per million at 3 miles, both extremely dangerous. Each trial used 12 measurement devices which gave a range of readings. The further from the point of release, the greater the range of concentrations. These tests happened during the day, in dry desert air, and the 20-ton release occurred with 8-mile-per-hour winds, causing faster dispersal and less width of dispersal. The Jack Rabbit trials, though under limited scenarios, measured real-time chlorine readings that showed the potential for highly dangerous levels of chlorine to have impacted the Albertan area, even several miles from the spill. Meanwhile, during the incident, little mention was made publicly of vegetation damage beyond the spill site. Fireman Jess Mickelson noted tree damage high above the valley across from the site. "I saw where it swept above Albertan nearly 1,000 feet," he said, "and the further away, the more it started acting like chlorine should and stay at the lowest point." Chris Weiss recalled, "The pine trees from miles down the canyon were burned from acid gas. The needles were brown and they were falling off and the grass was burned. Even fairly high up the canyon wall, all the way upstream, really." Weiss added, "There was evidence of oxidation all throughout the town of Albertan. There were brass doorknobs that were green." East of Albertan, the chlorine damage seemed to occur in patches, such as along Southside Road, about 8 miles from the site. To the north, residents up Roscoe Road also found dying or damaged trees. Many residents related patchy gas damage to capricious local winds. Within and beyond the exclusion zone, winds, temperature, moisture, and mountains needed and sculpted the toxic gas, unpredictably. Accounts of vegetation damage weren't just anecdotal. Soon after the spill, Emerald hired bitter root consultants of Corvallis, Montana to do a preliminary ground survey to document the parameters of vegetation damage. BC completed their fieldwork April 16 and 17 from along I-90, noting stress vegetation from mile markers 72.5 to mile marker 81, with an approximate elevation extent to 3,400 feet. The river was about 2,900 feet. A limited vegetation study by the Forest Service showed damage in a study plot at 3,740 feet. Emerald tasked BC to take aerial color and infrared photography on April 22, from which BC mapped the extent of "bronzing" of conifers, mostly Douglas fir. BC's report was finished only on July 1, 1997, after which it didn't surface until during litigation. Neither the report nor the map was ever publicized. Such information could be used as evidence regarding residents' claims of significant exposure. The boundary-limited mapping did not determine the highest elevation of bronzing. There was also no information cited to relate what minimum chlorine concentration might cause such bronzing. This meant that an area not bronzed could still have had levels of chlorine dangerous to humans. By the map, surrounded by bronze trees, by extrapolation, the entire town of Albertin was bronzed. The bronzing was predominantly to the east on both sides of the valley corridor, blanketing the area past Albertin until Pettie Creek, after which, bronzing was predominantly north of the highway. However, pockets of bronzing also occurred on the mountainside south of Southside Road and in the river flats within two miles west of Hewson. Notably, two of the bronzed areas were east of and outside the official evacuation zone. These islands of bronzing indicated that, at the least, pockets of concentrated chlorine gas impacted south of Pettie Creek, that areas at least 10 miles east of the site were bronzed, and that areas outside of the exclusion zone were bronzed. Abandoned pocket of bronzing also extended to the north and west of the site, almost to the Sierra exit, confirming that to some degree the gas moved in all directions, though predominantly east. Unquestionably, more bronzing and perhaps more pockets extended beyond the aerial photography perimeters, such as into the west fork of Pettie Creek, for example. The map's existence, as well as BC's 1996 and 1997 studies, only became known by some residents in the course of lawsuits. The media paid no attention. MRL cited the report as part of its privilege log, which gave vague or no descriptions of these files. The map was remarkable because it showed not only strong evidence of the minimum parameters of a concentration of chlorine high enough to bronze trees, but also the clear phenomenon of hot spots where concentrated gas did damage far from the spill site, just as victims had claimed all along. It was more indicative of the actual chlorine behavior than any air modeling. In terms of public health interest, such a vegetative study and the map should have been contracted by government officials and simply paid for by MRL. Instead, this valuable information, like the marine environmental air monitoring data, became tied to liability issues and held close to the best of the responsible party. Another reason to question MRL's control of an incident they created. That's a very interesting map, playing to if attorney John Hart said. I think we made an argument that that clearly was the minimum outer limits of the chlorine plume, or the plume where it was still concentrated enough to have some real toxicological effects. MRL tried to withhold it as privilege work product for two or three years. The public record on the Albertan spill did not include the map. The EPA's wise didn't know of any studies to correlate vegetation damage with approximate parts per million of chlorine exposure. "No," he said, "I wish I had that. In fact, I remember asking that question of some of the botanists that were on site because you could see you could drive down 990 and see almost exactly where the plume went. What I recall the botanist that I was with saying is that he was surprised a pine needle is pretty tough. It was shocking and unbelievable," Weiss said. Presumably, an evergreen's cuticle was a lot tougher than human airway tissue. Garren Smith agreed the vegetation damage is uncontrovertible evidence that you had some pretty good levels. HOCL was definitely probably the form that would transport further, she said, but not necessarily uniformly. Missed pockets could drift around, remaining tightly consolidated, explaining why some people reported pockets of the smell as well as the seemingly random bronzing. A pocket of HOCL could conceivably get into a ravine and sit there, reacting for some time. "Yes," Missed said. "So you could have it traveling along as a solution of HCL and HOCL, and then regenerate the chlorine at a distance because the reaction is working both ways at the same time. So there would be a little bit of pure chlorine that could be found at a distance." So much for a strictly linear notion of dilution and chlorine "disappearing." MRL would argue in litigation that people away from the site had little exposure. Although it was a large volume of chlorine released, it was a small volume of air in that entire valley, Attorney Randy Cox argued. So we had like a drop of dye in a large bucket of water. Basically, it is going to spread and dilute. And of course, no one could prove the exact levels in Albertin in the hours after the spill. Referring mainly to pH testing days after the spill, which was subject to natural buffering, MRL said Olympus saw no residual effects of chlorine gas beyond half a mile from the site in the form of HCL, chlorine, chloride, or chlorinated organics. Ignoring the effects on human health and vegetation, MRL's scenario sounded quite benign, a drop in the bucket. But the models and damage evidence suggested Albertin and beyond receive the significant dose. Highly diluted chlorine gas at nearly 10 parts per million was immediately dangerous to life in health. One drop of 100,000 drops. Weiss said, "At the time of the initial release, exposures in Albertin could easily have been over 20 parts per million. I wouldn't characterize it as mild to moderate. Based upon modeling that we did, I think the exposures in Albertin were moderate to severe, and that would have fluctuated in various parts of town." Weiss reiterated that he was absolutely sure people living in the town of Albertin likely had moderate to severe exposures. But spill victims were told that the vast majority would recover, based in part on assumptions of a mild to moderate exposure. With chlorine gas, a 60-ton drop went a long, long ways. Next time on gas, the true story of a toxic train derailment, three weeks after residents are allowed back to Albertin, the contaminated soil is finally removed, and many people report being re-exposed during the removal. Meanwhile, some residents continue to stay away, afraid of returning home. Until then, this is Ron Scholl. Thanks for listening. This podcast is adapted from the book Gas, the true story of a toxic train derailment. Visit amazon.com to see the two-book series. To access support material in the book, such as maps, photos, illustrations, and video links, visit my Facebook page Gas, the true story, or watch my gas playlist on my YouTube channel at R.L. Thanks for watching. [ Laughter ]
