A chemical fire in September 2024 forced evacuations across Conyers, Georgia. But for many locals, it wasn’t a surprise — it was déjà vu. Again.
Thick black smoke. Sirens wailing. Fire trucks lined up near retail plazas as shoppers scrambled to safety. The scene was chaotic, terrifying — and all too familiar. On the morning of September 29, 2024, the BioLab facility in Conyers, Georgia, caught fire. Again. This marked yet another dangerous chapter in a two-decade saga that’s scarred local families, overwhelmed first responders, and stirred growing outrage.
A Factory That Just Keeps Burning
The first major fire broke out in 2004. It blanketed Rockdale County in chemical smoke. Schools were shut down. People fell sick. But the plant kept running.
Then came another in 2006. And again in 2011. A fire in 2020 made national headlines. And now, 2024.
One sentence says it all: “It’s always FireLab,” Conyers locals now say with a bitter edge.
Each fire follows a hauntingly similar pattern — high heat, toxic gas, and one key chemical: Trichlor. It’s a potent substance used in pool cleaning products, but when it gets wet, it can combust violently.
By now, the risks are well known. Still, nothing’s stopped the plant from working with it. And nothing’s stopped the fires.
Why Is Trichlor Still There?
Let’s talk about the chemical at the heart of it all: Trichloroisocyanuric acid. Or Trichlor, for short. It sounds like something from a sci-fi novel. It’s not. It’s in your backyard pool tablets.
But it’s also incredibly unstable. Moisture triggers a violent reaction. When stored improperly — which investigators have repeatedly pointed out — Trichlor can overheat and ignite.
The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) flagged it years ago. After the 2020 Louisiana BioLab fire, the Chemical Safety Board launched a federal probe. The cause? Yep. Trichlor.
And still:
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Trichlor is not classified as a “highly hazardous” chemical under OSHA’s Process Safety Management Standard.
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Plants handling it are not held to stricter emergency protocols.
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Communities are left in the dark until the smoke is already rising.
Real People, Real Losses
Pamela Kirkland, host of Manufacturing Danger: The BioLab Story, didn’t mince words in her reporting. In her recent episode, she interviewed residents who’ve lived through the fallout — literally and figuratively.
Sheriff Melody Maddox recalled the 2004 fire like it was yesterday. “I could taste it,” she said. “The smoke. It was in my house, in my lungs.”
She wasn’t a law enforcement officer back then. Just a mom, covering her son’s face with a wet towel.
Now she’s leading the call for change.
Others, like longtime activist Kenny Johnson, have been banging on BioLab’s door for years. Johnson has shown up at council meetings, handed out flyers, and even taken drone footage of smoke pouring from the site. His frustration is plain.
“They’ll say it was a freak accident,” Johnson told Kirkland. “But how many freaks does it take to call it neglect?”
Regulators Have Fallen Short — Again and Again
Let’s be honest. BioLab isn’t the only plant working with risky chemicals. But its track record is among the worst. And many are asking why regulators haven’t shut it down or enforced tougher standards.
Here’s what we know:
Year | Incident | Outcome |
---|---|---|
2004 | Major fire, mass smoke release | No charges filed |
2006 | Small fire, internal burn injury | Resolved internally |
2020 | BioLab Louisiana fire | Federal investigation |
2024 | Evacuations in Conyers | Investigation ongoing |
Despite all this, BioLab has continued operations, paid fines that barely made a dent, and responded to criticism with carefully worded statements.
And meanwhile, the EPA’s risk management plan database shows gaps in inspection follow-ups. State-level enforcement varies widely. And the OSHA loophole? Still open.
Firefighters Caught in the Middle
If anyone’s caught between the flames and the bureaucracy, it’s Georgia’s firefighters. They’re the ones breathing the fumes. Rushing into volatile sites. Doing triage without knowing exactly what chemicals are on site.
Rockdale County Fire Chief Sean Patton didn’t hold back.
“We weren’t told Trichlor was involved until after we’d already gone in,” he said. “That’s a problem.”
He says the lack of real-time info puts responders in danger. Worse, it means crews can’t properly alert nearby residents either.
For the firefighters, it’s no longer just about putting out the flames. It’s about surviving the response.
Evacuations, Sirens, and a Long Wait for Change
The 2024 fire triggered a miles-wide evacuation. Schools closed. Businesses shut down. Traffic backed up for hours.
Residents were told to stay indoors. Keep windows closed. Run fans. For those with asthma or respiratory illness, it was terrifying.
One local mom, Nia Robinson, had just dropped her kids at daycare when she saw the black cloud. “I thought it was another warehouse fire,” she said. “Then I heard BioLab — and my heart just sank.”
She packed her kids back into the car and drove straight out of town.
But where were the warnings? No sirens went off. No text alerts came. Most people found out from Facebook.
Will 2025 Be the Year Something Finally Changes?
Another investigation is underway. Yet another.
Georgia lawmakers have called for a review of chemical storage laws. Some want Trichlor added to the high-hazard list. But others worry about hurting local industry.
Meanwhile, BioLab says it’s cooperating. And the plant? Still standing.
The fear now is simple. What happens next time? Because history suggests — there will be a next time.