This story originally appeared on Grist and is part of the Climate Desk collaboration. It is part of The Disaster Economy, a Grist series exploring the often chaotic, lucrative world of disaster response and recovery. It is published with support from the CO2 Foundation.
When a mile-wide tornado hit St. Louis on May 16, DeAmon White hopped in his car and rushed home. As he navigated downed trees and power lines, turning his 10-minute commute into a three-hour slog, he worried whether his family, neighbors, and home made it through unscathed.
When he turned the corner onto his block, White’s heart sank. The entire back wall of his house had been blown off. Chunks of ceiling plaster littered the floor, windows were shattered, and much of his property was damaged beyond repair.
Next, White checked on his mother, Bobbie, who lives a five-minute walk away. The third floor of her home was gone. But miraculously, her front yard flower garden made it through the 150-mph winds unscathed.
Damage to DeAmon White’s home from an EF-3 tornado in St. Louis, Missouri on May 16, 2025. Courtesy of DeAmon White
The St. Louis storm, an EF-3, was just one of 60 tornadoes that tore through Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and the Carolinas over 48 hours in May, killing at least 26 people and injuring 168. DeAmon and Bobbie considered themselves lucky: A neighbor of theirs had his leg impaled by a pole that flew through his window. Bobbie went to her sister’s house to get some sleep; DeAmon spent the night in his truck, trading shifts with neighbors to fend off looters.
The next morning, at 8 am, the phone calls started: Would he be interested in selling his home? “They were aggressively going at it,” he said. This continued for the next two weeks, with half a dozen calls every single day.
“Vultures” is what Bobbie and DeAmon called the speculators. Some walked down the street with flyers, some texted, and some called.