Richard Stutsman is an award-winning special effects coordinator and supervisor for the film and television industry with nearly 80 films and TV series to his credit, including the films “The Hurt Locker,” “Zero Dark Thirty,” “A River Runs through It” and “The Aviator” along with TV series that include “I am the Night,” “The Last Ship” and “Dexter.” Laurel is an artist, and also has her own Malibu-based landscape design business (Laurel Stutsman Design).
In describing his experience the morning of the fire, Richard said, “At 6:00 am, the phone vibrated. The fire had just jumped the 101 Freeway, and I saw smoke going right towards Point Dume. I knew we were in trouble at that point. And I saw no firetrucks: some Captain or person in charge should have been watching the progress of the fire and been looking ahead to see where it was headed – but apparently, they didn’t do that.
“You couldn’t get a better fire break than 16 lanes of freeway on the 101, and that didn’t stop it. I started to pack my little Mini Cooper with dog food, camping gear, tools, a work light and generator. I thought if I parked it at the beach, I might not get back for a month – so I packed stuff I needed but could live without. I thought, ‘What if someone breaks into the car or the car burns?’
“I called our neighbor Steve and said, ‘I have a really big favor to ask. If I park my car at Zuma, can you give me a ride back?’ and he was like, ‘Well how long is this gonna take?’ I said, “I promise you I’ll be standing at the corner – and if you stop for just a second, I’ll be in your car.
“My guardian angel, Alex, had stayed with us last year after being evacuated during the Thomas Fire (in Ventura and Santa Barbara Counties). He called at 9:00 am and asked if I wanted him to come down; it’s always tough for me to ask for help, but this time I said ‘Yes.’
“With all the roadblocks, it took him two hours to get here (about twice as long as usual). He’s in Ventura County Search & Rescue, and brought a pickup with a camper. At first, the Sheriff’s deputies wouldn’t let him through until he showed his [First Responder] card. As soon as he got to the house, he started grabbing pictures and anything hanging on the walls, along with a family heirloom sculpture.
“One thing we just couldn’t fit was a Revolutionary War-era cabinet. It was my responsibility to my family to guard it for the rest of my life. I did take the box with Laurel’s jewelry, but pearls from her mother and mine along with the ones we bought during a trip to China are gone. They were just too long to fit in the jewelry box.
“I had the dogs and everything else that could fit in our second car, and I was ready to take off. When the firestorm hit, it blew across the hill behind me like a freight train. The sky was dark orange, and way in the distance you could hear that rumbling. On (nearby) Guernsey Avenue, I saw trees get ripped out of the ground by the firestorm but somehow they weren’t burning. A tremendous wall of fire was coming towards the house, so I left.
“As I started to drive out, I saw some buddies standing in a clear spot so we all watched as this huge, vicious wall of fire blew across the hill. But as soon as it passed, there was a dead calm and no noise – it got quiet, and I could see that our house had not burned. I put the car in reverse and backed down the driveway; then got out and started putting out spot fires.
“My neighbor’s yard was fully engulfed and going up in flames rapidly. In the past, the Fire Department had been there 20-30 times to order him to clean out all of his junk. I got the garden hose and fought the fire as best I could. A tire in his yard blew up and flew right through the fence onto my property.
“I watched the water pressure get less and less, and saw my escape route disappearing rapidly. The fire had already burned down his property and was spreading rapidly to all the nearby houses, including ours. It’s devastating: our entire neighborhood is gone except for one house surrounded by trees in a little valley that was somehow untouched.
“I fled to Zuma Beach along with about 200 other people. The smoke was foul. You could barely see across PCH. At least 20 Sheriff’s deputies were wandering around, and there were one or two firetrucks. One by one, more started showing up – but not one of them went to fight the fire. It’s unbelievable. Why would you just leave a city undefended?”
That same morning, Laurel was in Boston and her phone suddenly started going berserk with emergency alerts about the Woolsey Fire –that all of Malibu had been ordered to evacuate. “I called Richard, who was home in Malibu; he told me the fire had jumped the 101 Freeway and that he was going to load up the car and leave it parked at Zuma Beach, but he was trying not to say anything that would freak me out.
“I thought, ‘Okay, another evacuation,’” Laurel said. “Nothing’s going to happen. Once I got to the airport, I called Richard and he burst into tears and said, ‘I couldn’t save it. The house is gone.’ It was totally outside what I ever thought could’ve happened. How could a fire burn from 101 to the beach that fast and not have anyone there to stop it?”
Laurel, describing herself as a “wreck,” boarded her return flight. “I went to the back of the airplane where the stewardesses are and just stood there facing the wall and sobbed. I couldn’t believe it. We lost everything. We were both getting ready to retire, and were fixing up the house while we were still working. We put a new roof on, and got a new washer and dryer. And we were doing all this stuff before we went on the dole and became pensioners.
“I feel like I got erased – like my existence got erased. I’m an artist and all my work is gone. I had pictures of my mother, me, and Richard as a kid; there are no more pictures of me now as a young woman, or pictures of the kids. Now, I’ve got nothing to give my kids – no history to pass down.”
Richard added that, “You’ve just got to move forward and try not to cry while buying replacement items at Bed, Bath & Beyond. I understand what PTSD is now: your brain is swollen with emotions and stuff to think about, not leaving much room for rational decisions. It’s Rod Serling’s ‘Twilight Zone,’ but you can’t change the channel.
In closing, the Stutsmans said that they have no choice but to rebuild. “If you just walk away, you lose the insurance replacement costs, and the property loses value because it’s in a fire area. And in any event, where would we go? You sort of have to rebuild.”
“The things that will keep us here in Malibu are the friends we love and the people who have been so kind. The angels have come out of the woodwork: out of the blue, giving us boxes of wonderful things, pastels (for Laurel’s studio), a certificate for a massage – things to put your life back together that remind you who you were and are. But what really means more than anything right now aren’t things – it’s the people saying, ‘We’re here for you.’”
