After Hurricane Helene devastated most of western North Carolina, volunteers began streaming into the region. With roads closed, submerged, and blocked by fallen trees, some arrived in the sky, outfitted with private planes and helicopters. This is a relatively new feature of disaster relief. Doug Jackson, the chairman of Operation Airdrop, a Texas-based organization for volunteer pilots that formed after Hurricane Harvey, in 2017, told me that the air response to Helene involved an unheard-of number of private choppers and aircraft, including three Black Hawks, which cost a few million dollars even when purchased secondhand.
Jordan Seidhom, a volunteer firefighter who lives in South Carolina and was a narcotics detective for the Chesterfield County sheriff’s office, was not part of Operation Airdrop, but did go to North Carolina to help. He flies a black Robinson R44, described by one YouTuber as “a utilitarian and affordable four-place helicopter for the common man.” With his teen-age son, Seidhom rescued people stranded in the mountains around western North Carolina.
Volunteer pilots are welcome after disasters, but they have to follow all federal aviation regulations. Jackson explained that pilots in his organization are assigned specific missions with corresponding “squawk” codes that designate where the pilot is going. This is no small detail: according to CNN, the air response to Helene was so overwhelming that there were more than thirty near-plane-crashes, and the Federal Aviation Administration imposed flight restrictions in the area.
In Seidhom’s telling, he spotted a couple in distress—Michael and Susan Coffey, of the Lake Lure region, whose mountain home had washed away in the deluge, leaving only the driveway. Based on a video circulating online, Seidhom picked up Susan, and, not wanting to put too much weight on the craft, left his son with Michael. When Seidhom landed in what officials would later say was a restricted site, he said that a man in a Lake Lure fire-department shirt accused him of “interfering,” threatened him with arrest, and forbade him from returning to get Michael and his son. Seidhom later told a reporter that he ignored the order and went to get his son, but left Michael, who later hiked and swam to rescuers and safety. Seidhom publicized his story on Facebook.
Almost immediately, social-media influencers and commenters elevated Seidhom as a hero, and voiced their fears that seemingly anonymous local officials—perhaps in league with the federal government—were conspiring to block assistance to rural North Carolina. “Why are people not the priority?” one user asked tearfully. Michael Flynn, a noted conspiracy theorist, amplified Seidhom’s story. At a campaign stop in Alamance County, introduced by the controversial sheriff Terry Johnson, the much more controversial gubernatorial candidate Mark Robinson said that his “heart [was] broken for the people of western North Carolina” because of “greedy, selfish individuals” who, he said, “despise the truth.” In contrast, he praised individuals like Seidhom, who were “here to do the right thing.” (Robinson skipped two council votes regarding emergency aid.) Michael Coffey’s niece made a viral video calling Seidhom “heroic” and was critical of Lake Lure officials.
It seems like Seidhom’s stop was an inadvertent hiccup. (He did not respond to requests for comment.) “This gentleman just wanted to help,” Jackson, of Operation Airdrop, said, choosing his words carefully. But the incident became tinder for online outrage and speculation. The fury of the comments sections focussed on the administrative officials who seemed to stand in the way of neighborly assistance, such as the assistant fire chief Chris Melton, who, Seidhom claimed, told him that he might be arrested. (The Lake Lure fire department’s Facebook page is now down.) Someone started a Change.org petition calling for the removal of Melton and the fire chief, Dustin Waycaster. Eventually, the town’s leaders felt compelled to quell the social-media storm. Waycaster issued a short video calling Seidhom a “brave man” who had unfortunately landed in a restricted zone, and the mayor put out her own online statement similarly describing Seidhom’s bravery, and claiming that the individual who’d threatened Seidhom with arrest was a law-enforcement officer from another jurisdiction. (Waycaster’s statement said that no one from the fire department had threatened Seidhom with arrest.) In both videos, the officials stand in front of piles of rubble, demonstrating that perhaps they had bigger things to worry about.
The utter devastation of both Helene and Milton has created a breeding ground for political disillusionment and paranoia. At a rally in Michigan, Donald Trump falsely claimed that FEMA money for hurricane relief was diverted to assist “illegal migrants.” J. D. Vance said that the seven-hundred-and-fifty-dollar payment for victims of the disasters was a pittance compared with funding sent to foreign countries and “illegal aliens.” (The seven hundred and fifty dollars is for immediate assistance, such as food, water, and diapers, and is not the full amount of FEMA assistance.) Other rumors alleged that the government destroyed certain North Carolina towns on purpose, or that government officials were seizing private property. Both FEMA and North Carolina’s Department of Public Safety have set up Web sites specifically designed to counter misinformation. It’s common for natural disasters to create confusion and conspiracies. But such disarray is significant in a state like North Carolina, where the Presidential candidates are within a point of each other.
Many of the conspiracy theories in North Carolina have hovered over Chimney Rock, a small village that was essentially destroyed by the hurricane. (Both Chimney Rock and Lake Lure, where Seidhom said he was stopped, are in Rutherford County, which is over all much more conservative than Buncombe County, which includes the liberal city of Asheville.) A rumor went viral on TikTok and X that there was a meeting on October 2nd during which authorities said they would “bulldoze” Chimney Rock and halt search-and-rescue efforts in order to mine the region for underground lithium deposits. A tweet with more than a half million views advised residents to form militias to fight FEMA land takeovers. Some accounts claimed that there were hundreds of dead bodies in the town. The rumors were so outrageous that Representative Chuck Edwards, whose district includes western North Carolina, felt compelled to make a statement: “Hurricane Helene was NOT geoengineered by the government to seize and access lithium deposits in Chimney Rock.” Rutherford County Emergency Management also issued a press release declaring that there were no planned land seizures and clarifying that two people from the town had died.
Just as lies about voter fraud have led to harassment and threats to election workers, these national media conspiracy theories seed the ground for local fights that erode public trust in institutions. In Franklin County, Kim Denton, the county manager, issued a letter to all departments asking them to run requests for hurricane relief by her, for financial-planning purposes and FEMA reimbursement. The county sheriff, Kevin White, who had just been on a caravan through the region with Mark Robinson, took to Facebook to vent his feelings about the letter, posting Denton’s picture and accusing her of being a bureaucrat who was “attempting to stonewall Hurricane Relief under the vail of ‘doing their job.’ ” White went on to say that Denton was stymieing rescue efforts, and called for her resignation. Once again, the comments were harsh, associating Denton with the federal bureaucracy that was seen as slowing down disaster response time.
