One Year Later: “Be With Us”

The following remarks were delivered by Department of Angels co-founder Evan Spiegel on January 4, 2026, at With Us, a regional remembrance gathering to bring Angelenos together for a moment of remembrance, healing, and collective action one year after the Eaton and Palisades fires.

Thank you Christine, and thank you to our faith leaders Pastor Scott White and Rabbi Daniel Sher, for your leadership and for showing us that remembrance isn’t passive. It’s something we do together.

And thank you to every survivor who is here, and to everyone who came to stand with them as neighbors, friends, and family. 

For many of us, the memories of the fire are still painfully clear: the color of the sky, the smell in the air, the way the wind sounded at night. The way a street you’ve known your whole life can suddenly look like a different planet.

Familiar places became empty places. And for so many families, our loss wasn’t just what burned, it was what it represented: a sense of safety and community. A sense of home.

I grew up in the Palisades and the home where we started our company — my dad’s place — was lost in the fires. And I remember watching it burn, and feeling the helplessness: that moment when you realize you can’t reason with fire or ask it to stop. You can only love the people around you and decide what you’re going to do next.

This anniversary is far from the finish line. It’s merely a signpost. It says: we’ve made it this far. And it asks: how will we move forward from here?

Today, this gathering is literally built around walking — through sight, sound, and story. And I think that matters, because Los Angeles is a city that understands stories. We make movies, we make music, we make art, we build things from imagination.

The story of the past year is something we have lived together.

It’s the families that have moved three, four, or more times — doing their best to keep things steady while everything is still uncertain.

It’s the business owners, like Kevin Mejia who reopened Bevel Coffee in Altadena not because it was easy, but because people needed a place to see each other again.

It’s the first responders, like John Stuhlman, who ran to help while his own home was burning. And then, in the midst of rebuilding his life, he got on a plane to Washington, D.C., with his wife Monica to advocate for their neighbors. 

And it’s also the story of what’s so beautiful about Los Angeles: the way people show up.

That’s why we helped start the Department of Angels, because recovery requires something we can build together: capacity, connection, and follow‑through.

We’ve learned something simple and undeniable this year: when systems are confusing, when aid is slow, when the paperwork is endless — people still trust their neighbors. They still lean on community. They still need someone to say, “I’ll go with you,” “I’ll help you make that call,” “I’ll sit with you while you figure this out.”

A year later, too many people are still not home. Too many are still waiting for resources, for clear answers, for a path that doesn’t require superhuman stamina just to survive it.

The most important thing we can do today is to refuse the quiet drift into forgetting.

So here’s what I’m asking — in the spirit of this event’s name.

Be with us in remembrance — say the names, hold the stories, and honor what was lost.

Be with us in the middle — this unglamorous, frustrating middle of recovery, when the headlines move on but the need doesn’t.

Be with us in action — volunteer, support survivor-led groups, help a family navigate a form, show up to community meetings, hire local, donate if you can, and yes — push leaders to deliver the resources that were promised.

Because our recovery isn’t just about rebuilding.

It will be measured in whether people feel abandoned — or supported.

Whether they feel overlooked — or understood.

Whether they feel alone in this — or not.

Los Angeles is the City of Angels.

And what I’ve learned this year is: the angels in this city don’t always have wings.

Sometimes they have work boots. Sometimes they have a clipboard. Sometimes they have a casserole. Sometimes they just have the courage to knock on a door and say, “I’m here.”

Thank you for being here.

Let’s keep working together until every family can come home.