Water worries

In summer 2014, LeeAnn Walters of Flint, Mich., noticed a peculiar rash on her 4-year-old son, Gavin. Doctors at first diagnosed it as contact dermatitis, then scabies. It seemed to get worse after every bath or swim in the backyard pool. Later that year, when brown water came out of the faucet and an older son got sick, the Walters family stopped drinking the water.

At that time few people outside Flint, a city of 100,000 about 65 miles north of Detroit, knew that city children were becoming victims of lead poisoning. Now the whole United States knows, and officials are pointing fingers at each other in an attempt to avoid responsibility—but the tragedy is one that could happen to any cash-strapped city.

The Flint saga began when Flint leaders in 2013 signed a contract to access a new pipeline that would bring water from Lake Huron at a lower price. One problem: The pipeline would not be completed until 2016. Detroit, unhappy at losing Flint as a customer, said Flint would have to look elsewhere when its contract with Detroit ended in 2014. That left Flint looking for alternatives and deciding, temporarily, to use water from the Flint River.

The decision proved catastrophic. Authorities failed to use corrosion controls needed to maintain the protective lining that keeps lead and other heavy metals in old pipes from leaching into the water. The city promised residents that the new water “meets all our drinking water standards and Flint water is safe to drink,” but problems—E. coli and coliform—led to boiling advisories. GM noticed rust forming on newly machined parts. Water tested high for kidney- and liver-damaging TTHMs.

In January 2015, residents showed up at community meetings with jars of brown, smelly tap water. When LeeAnn Walters asked the health department to test her water, it showed lead levels of 104 parts per billion (anything over 15 is trouble). A week later it showed 397, and Gavin tested positive for lead poisoning. She told Michigan Radio, “We should be able to trust the fact that it’s not going to harm our kids.”

Over the spring and summer, state and federal environmental agencies downplayed the problem. But in August 2015, Virginia Tech researcher Marc Edwards discovered the Flint River’s link to lead in the city’s water, resulting in elevated blood lead levels in children. Not until December did state officials switch Flint back to Detroit water, and they are still trying to assess the damage. Some pipes can regain their protective lining with proper corrosion controls. Others will need replacing.

The real tragedy involves children like Gavin. Although chelation therapy can reduce lead in the body, it can’t reverse the effects of lead exposure on the neurological development of young children and unborn babies—although some researchers believe early education enrichment services can help.

Residents of other cities often share LeeAnn Walters’ feeling that you should be able to trust the water from the tap. Maybe they shouldn’t. Virginia Tech professor Yanna Lambrinidou told The Guardian that many cities in the eastern United States may have problems similar to Flint’s. Too many cities use inaccurate testing methods—running water for several seconds before collecting samples, for instance—that yield lower levels of contaminants.

Some people are finding out that their own officials don’t trust the water. The water in St. Joseph, La., often runs brown, but authorities have assured residents their water is safe. When the local CBS affiliate asked the mayor if he drank the water, he said, “I haven’t drank the water since I moved back here.” That was more than 20 years ago.

On a crisp, sunny day in early February, we asked joggers on the hike and bike trail around Lady Bird Lake in Austin, Texas, what they knew about their city’s water quality. Ellen Smith, a bird-watcher and recently retired physician who wore a pair of black binoculars around her neck, had just finished filling up her empty water bottle at a nearby fountain. When asked if the Flint water crisis made her concerned about Austin water, she took a long pause and said: “Remotely.”

Others were similarly unconcerned. Robert Rodriguez drinks water from the tap and doesn’t know where it comes from. Ken Booser said he feels sorry for Flint residents, “but I’m grateful it’s not going on here.” Others aren’t so sure. Alvin Cantu stood in front of a row of canoes at the Texas Rowing Center and said he’s bought bottled water for 20 years. A concerned young mother in large sunglasses, out with her 4-year-old son, said she was planning to purchase a $300 water purification system.

Some people who live in old houses with aging water pipes are worried. Steve and Anna Walker said the Flint situation had motivated them to look into buying a water filter. Giggling college students Janie and Belle had never heard of Flint, Mich., but after hearing a brief summary of the problem, Janie said, “I want to know where my water comes from.”

—with reporting by World Journalism Institute mid-career course graduates Laura Finch, Elizabeth Tracy, Gary Bauman, and Andrew Stebbens