Indiana residents face 11th day without power as utility faces lawsuit over tree trimming

Multiple deaths reported including a four-year-old killed by fallen tree; thousands displaced without power, food access, or safe living conditions for 11+ days.
I think if this was a richer area, it would be different.
A Gary resident reflects on why her community bore the brunt of an 11-day power outage.
Mark

Why did this outage last so long when the utility had restored power to most customers?

Mimi

The sheer scale of damage made it a logistics problem. About 300 power poles were destroyed. In some neighborhoods like Aetna in Gary, downed trees still blocked streets. Nipsco had to clear debris, replace poles, and restore lines in sequence. Some areas simply had to wait their turn.

Mark

The lawsuit mentions tree trimming. Was that really the issue?

Mimi

That's what residents and their lawyers are arguing—that Nipsco hadn't trimmed trees aggressively enough, so when 99-mile-per-hour winds hit, trees fell directly onto power lines. Nipsco says they've doubled spending on vegetation management since 2016, but the lawsuit suggests it wasn't enough.

Mark

Why did Gary suffer more than other areas?

Mimi

Geography partly—it took a direct hit from the worst winds. But also economics. Gary has about one-third of its population living in poverty. When you don't have resources to leave, to stay in a hotel, to buy generators or ice, an 11-day outage becomes a crisis instead of an inconvenience.

Mark

What did people actually do without power for that long?

Mimi

They adapted in ways that sound simple but were exhausting. Charged phones in cars. Spent nights in vehicles for air conditioning. Walked to stores for candles and batteries, only to find shelves empty. Worried about food spoiling. Worried about babies and people on medical equipment.

Mark

Did anyone die from the outage itself?

Mimi

The storms killed at least two people directly—a four-year-old from a fallen tree, another from a suspected weather-related explosion. Whether deaths resulted from the outage conditions—heat, lack of medical equipment power—the reporting doesn't specify, but residents were clearly afraid of that possibility.

Mark

What happens next?

Mimi

The governor requested federal disaster aid for 54 counties, which was granted. The state is offering up to $5,000 in emergency grants. The lawsuit will proceed. And residents will wait to see if Nipsco's restoration timeline holds or if Gary remains in the dark even longer.

  • Eleven days without power in extreme summer heat has pushed thousands of Gary residents to sleep in their cars, stand in food lines, and walk to stores stripped bare of candles and batteries.
  • A four-year-old child is dead, a community is fractured, and residents openly ask whether a wealthier area would have waited this long — Gary, where a third of residents live below the poverty line, bore the worst of the damage.
  • Residents have filed a class-action lawsuit accusing the utility Nipsco of predictable, preventable negligence in failing to trim trees that ultimately brought down hundreds of power poles and miles of lines.
  • Nipsco has restored power to over 341,000 customers but acknowledges some in Gary may wait until Tuesday — a full two weeks — while defending its vegetation management record and suspending bill disconnections as a gesture of goodwill.
  • Governor Braun's request for a federal disaster declaration has been granted, and the state is offering emergency grants of up to $5,000, but for those still sitting in the dark, the machinery of relief is moving at an agonizing pace.

Eleven days after violent storms tore through northwest Indiana, more than 33,000 residents — many of them among the poorest in the state — remained without electricity, food security, or relief from summer heat. The disaster, which claimed lives including that of a four-year-old child, has exposed the fragile infrastructure underlying vulnerable communities and raised urgent questions about whether utility companies and governments hold equal obligations to all citizens. As federal emergency declarations and class-action lawsuits slowly take shape, the people of Gary and surrounding areas are left to measure the distance between institutional response and human need.

On the morning of August 22nd, residents of northwest Indiana woke to their eleventh day without electricity. The storms that struck on August 11th — carrying winds near 100 miles per hour, torrential rainfall, and at least three tornadoes — had shattered the region's power infrastructure, leaving 33,124 customers still in darkness. For Gary, the hardest-hit city, full restoration might not come until Tuesday: two full weeks after the lights went out.

Nipsco reported restoring power to more than 341,000 of the roughly 374,500 customers who lost service, calling the progress substantial. The message rang hollow for many. Gary resident Bridget Sanders called it ridiculous and unacceptable, voicing a feeling shared widely — that her community had been treated as an afterthought. Gary, where approximately one-third of residents live below the poverty line, absorbed the worst of the damage, and its residents felt the disparity acutely.

The toll on daily life was both visible and grinding. Grocery stores closed, gas pumps ran dry, and schools stayed shut. Residents charged phones in their cars and slept there for the air conditioning. Renita Theus, 41, said she cried every day — her car pinned under a fallen tree, the dollar store near her home emptied of supplies. She worried about newborns and people on ventilators. "I think if this was a richer area, it would be different," she said. Others, like Tasha Harris in nearby Griffith, described exhausting daily circuits for ice and food, finding meaning in endurance: "We're still here so we're blessed."

The storms had been severe by any measure. The National Weather Service recorded straight-line winds of 99 miles per hour in Gary, with rainfall between 6 and 11 inches across the region. At least two people died in the immediate aftermath — a four-year-old killed when a tree fell on his home, and another person in a suspected weather-related explosion in Portage. Around 300 power poles were damaged, and downed trees still lined streets in Gary's Aetna neighborhood more than a week later.

Residents responded legally as well as personally, filing a proposed class-action lawsuit against Nipsco alleging that inadequate tree trimming had made the disaster foreseeable and preventable. Nipsco denied the allegations, citing a vegetation management program whose spending had more than doubled since 2016. The utility also announced it would suspend disconnections for customers struggling with bills.

Governor Mike Braun requested a federal major disaster declaration for 54 counties, which the Trump administration granted. The state established an emergency relief fund offering grants of up to $5,000 to affected residents. The formal machinery of disaster response had engaged — but for those still waiting in the heat and the dark, its pace felt impossibly slow.

On Saturday, August 22nd, residents of northwest Indiana woke to their eleventh consecutive day without electricity. The storms that had swept through the region on August 11th—bringing winds exceeding 80 miles per hour, torrential rain, and tornadoes—had toppled trees and power lines across the landscape, leaving 33,124 customers still in darkness. For those in Gary, the hardest-hit community, restoration might not arrive until Tuesday, marking a full two weeks without power.

The Northern Indiana Public Service Company, or Nipsco, reported that it had restored electricity to 341,376 of the 374,500 customers who lost service in the storms. The utility issued a statement saying substantial progress had been made, though customers might experience temporary outages as work continued. The message landed poorly. Bridget Sanders, a Gary resident, called the statement ridiculous and unacceptable. She felt her community was being treated as an afterthought, left behind while other neighborhoods received faster restoration.

The prolonged outage had fractured daily life in ways both visible and grinding. Food lines formed as refrigerators failed and grocery stores closed. Gas pumps ran dry. Schools remained shuttered. Residents charged phones in their cars and spent nights there seeking air conditioning. Cynthia Hunter described opening every window in her home, trying to maintain both comfort and safety. Renita Theus, 41, said she cried every day. Her car sat trapped beneath a fallen tree. She walked to a dollar store only to find the shelves emptied of candles and batteries. She worried about newborns and people dependent on ventilators. "There's a lot of people here struggling," she said. "I think if this was a richer area, it would be different." Gary, where roughly one-third of residents live below the poverty line, bore the brunt of the disaster.

The storms themselves had been severe. The National Weather Service recorded straight-line winds reaching 99 miles per hour in Gary. Rainfall totaled between 6 and 9 inches across much of the region, with some areas receiving more than 11 inches. The system produced at least three confirmed tornadoes and caused flooding across Indiana, Ohio, Illinois, and Kentucky. At least two people died in the immediate aftermath—a four-year-old child killed when a tree fell on his home in Geneva Township, and another person in a suspected weather-related house explosion in Portage.

About 300 power poles had been damaged in the storms. In Gary's Aetna neighborhood, downed trees still lined the streets alongside debris. The damage was extensive enough that some residents had simply adapted to the new reality. Tasha Harris, living in nearby Griffith, described the exhausting routine of traveling back and forth for ice, for food, for the basics of survival. "We gotta go back-and-forth and get ice. Fill it with a cooler. Going back-and-forth to get something to eat," she said. "It's too much. But we're still here so we're blessed."

Meanwhile, residents filed a proposed class-action lawsuit against Nipsco, arguing that the utility had failed to adequately trim trees that subsequently brought down power lines. Attorney Otto Shragal of the Allen Law Group stated plainly: "This situation was predictable. It was obvious and it was preventable." Nipsco denied the allegations, pointing to its vegetation management program and noting that spending on tree trimming had more than doubled since 2016. The company said it understood the impact of prolonged outages and announced it would suspend disconnections for customers struggling to pay their bills.

Governor Mike Braun formally requested an expedited major disaster declaration from the Federal Emergency Management Agency for 54 counties, seeking both individual and public assistance. The Trump administration granted an emergency declaration, and the state established a relief fund offering emergency aid grants of up to $5,000 to affected residents. The machinery of disaster response had begun to turn, though for those still sitting in the dark, in the heat, waiting for power to return, the pace felt impossibly slow.

This situation was predictable. It was obvious and it was preventable.
— Attorney Otto Shragal, representing residents in class-action lawsuit against Nipsco
I think if this was a richer area, it would be different.
— Renita Theus, Gary resident
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