After the Flood Came the Lies

The first few days were a blur for Kerry Giles.

Hurricane Helene had rampaged up the coast of Florida before roaring into Western North Carolina in late September 2024, dropping as much as 30 inches of rain with gusts as high as 100 miles per hour. Mudslides and overflowing rivers decimated the region’s mountain roads and hillside homes, turning an area often spared from tropical storms into ground zero. 

So when the emergency manager for Rutherford County—one of the hardest-hit in the state—rang Giles in the middle of the night on September 27 asking if she, the public transit director, could authorize vans to evacuate trapped residents, she knew she was in for a whirlwind. 

Later that morning, around 11 a.m., the same manager asked Giles to answer the phones at the county Emergency Operations Center, handle the torrent of media inquiries, and send information to the community about rescue efforts, supply sites, and safety measures. A tree had fallen on her house and downed oaks in her front yard barricaded her inside, but her response was absolute.

“If you can get me out, I will come.”

Within hours, Giles said, the 911 operators received more than 500 missing persons requests. Downed cell towers, power outages, and infrastructure damage prevented people from reaching loved ones, including Giles’ daughter in Boone, for hours. 

She set up an email inbox the next morning to streamline the process before getting pulled in to help with evacuations in Lake Lure. The local sheriff’s office and FBI eventually assumed control of missing persons. That enabled Giles to direct all her energy to standing in as the county’s public information officer, or PIO, helping share information about safety and emergency response.

Or, as she would soon find out, trying to convince people help was coming at all.

When Giles finally got a break on October 3, “just long enough to let my dog out,” she went to the back deck for some fresh air and looked at her phone.

What she saw shocked and disheartened her: social media accounts awash with conspiracies, some accusing federal agents of telling residents their land had been seized and they were about to bulldoze Chimney Rock. She snapped a photo of her face, puffy with tears, and sent it to her husband. 

“I knew how exhausting it could be to keep putting accurate information out when people had already decided not to trust it,” Giles, who also served as a PIO during the COVID-19 pandemic, told The Assembly. “The thought of facing that again while our community was already hurting so badly was overwhelming.”

Disinformation—the deliberate spreading of falsehoods—about malicious intentions or neglect on the part of emergency management agencies became one of the key storylines after Helene. Debunking rumors added strain to an overburdened agency communications apparatus (Giles was the only PIO in Rutherford County) and clogged social media, taking attention away from the lifesaving information people needed. 

It caught agencies woefully unprepared, as the North Carolina Department of Public Safety (NCDPS) noted in an after-action review: “Well-meaning individuals sharing incorrect information, coupled with coordinated disinformation efforts, undermined public confidence in official communication channels,” the report said. “The need to continuously address and correct misinformation redirected substantial staff time and resources away from other critical response activities.”

Two years later, agencies say the struggle has helped them become more prepared to counter disinformation, and they’ve made spotting and getting in front of it a bigger part of their disaster playbook. 

“Fear is a major driver when it comes to these rumors,” Giles said. “So the quicker we can dispel them so we can get the really critical information to people, I want to be the place people go first when there is an emergency.”

Bulldozing Chimney Rock?

One of the greatest challenges in stopping disinformation is tracking how rumors spread. But they almost always germinate from a seed of believability. 

On the evening of October 2, an X user named Chris Martenson uploaded a post detailing an exchange with an unnamed N.C. resident. The person claimed officials had organized a meeting with the residents of Chimney Rock to tell them the town was to be seized and bulldozed “bodies and all”—perhaps to access lithium deposits. 

The post said officials had not picked up the bodies of storm victims, truckers had reported slashed tires, people were being robbed at gunpoint during supply runs, and a local pastor ordered body bags to match the growing death toll. 

All of these claims, as Snopes, FEMA, and a series of other public officials quickly showed, were baseless. There was a meeting in Chimney Rock on October 2, but Giles—who was in attendance—said it was for officials to hear resident concerns and discuss infrastructure repair. Bulldozers were in the town as well, but to clear roads, not level buildings. No lithium is mined in Rutherford County, which had a total of four confirmed fatalities attributed to the storm. 

The post remained online and continued to blaze through social media regardless, according to a dossier tracking the rumor compiled by Bryan Giemza, a professor of humanities at Texas Tech University who researches disinformation. Giemza, a North Carolina native, is the former director of the Southern Historical Collection at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. 

Martenson’s original X post accumulated more than 3 million views within a week as its contents moved onto Facebook groups, troll accounts spreading weather conspiracy memes, U.S.-based misinformation aggregators, and eventually Russian disinformation sites. Martenson walked the original post back on his blog on October 25, admitting he hadn’t seen any evidence that would “exist to confirm those claims,” but defended his initial decision to post.

Martenson, who has a doctorate from Duke University in neurotoxicology and lives in Massachusetts, did not respond to multiple requests for comment. He runs a subscription-based website, Peak Prosperity, which promotes fringe and conspiracist views on energy, economics, and the environment. 

But even if Martenson’s motivations are unclear, disinformation usually has a goal. After Helene, it often focused on sowing distrust in the government to increase influence or electoral chances in a key swing state. 

Donald Trump, then seeking a second term as president, accused the federal government of withholding aid to Republicans and FEMA of diverting funds to immigrants. Former N.C. Lieutenant Governor and 2024 gubernatorial candidate Mark Robinson claimed that then-President Joe Biden said the federal government had “no more supplies” for residents. Former Republican U.S. Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene and others online even argued that the federal government engineered the weather, perhaps to harm Republican areas and thereby help Democrats.

“You had a lot of conflicting messages between politicos, one side of the fence saying one thing, the other side saying another thing,” said Brian Haines, a senior external affairs specialist for N.C. Emergency Management who worked as a PIO during Helene. “That, I think, caused a lot of issues, especially when you were hearing from prominent politicians that FEMA was not there. But FEMA was there; we were [in] daily contact with them.”

It didn’t help that many areas of Western North Carolina are particularly susceptible to both disasters and bad information. 

Among them, said Sarah Jackson, an assistant professor in the Emergency and Disaster Management Program at Western Carolina University, are geographically isolated towns and flimsy communications infrastructure. The traditional self-sufficiency of rural communities can also create mistrust in government and a greater willingness to embrace rumors that validate their skepticism. 

“Rural folks commonly think of themselves as independent, not needing support and help,” Jackson said. “But then in a catastrophic disaster like this, you have to.”

Jackson’s research on official warning messages during Helene—urgent alerts sent by agencies like the National Weather Service—found problems with those, too. Alerts were sent out quickly and to the right places, but at times included unclear wording, contradictory instructions, or neglected to give timeframes, adding to the confusion.

The work of PIOs like Giles and Haines became complex and increasingly arduous. On top of normal duties, they now had to assure a doubting, information-starved public that help was indeed coming.

“The [government] authorities would say, ‘We’re flat footed, we weren’t ready for all that, we were seeing all this crazy stuff as it unfolded in real time,’” Giemza said. “Then they had to chase it, and it’s simply not a part of their playbook.”

Agencies Got Crafty

Among Helene’s greatest lessons was that traditional information channels couldn’t sustain the flood of disinformation. The set-the-record-straight press releases Giles sent often inspired just as much skepticism as assuredness, if people read them at all. 

Comments on the October 3 post Giles uploaded to Facebook dispelling the land-seizure rumor included a mix of thanks and doubts about government trustworthiness.

So agencies got crafty, shifting their communications toward social media, local media like radio stations and, where applicable, on-the-ground messaging to penetrate blackouts. These efforts have helped inspire a broader sense of readiness for future disasters.

Improving the amount of messaging people received about aid was the first priority.

Radio became a reliable source of information since people could still access it through battery-powered devices or their cars. 

Jackson, who lives in Waynesville, said the “boombox radio” she and her husband got from a “free junk pile” on the side of the road in 2019 became their lifeline. Using the cheap D-cell batteries she stockpiled a year before the hurricane, she was able to listen to 24-hour station broadcasts and residents calling in to relay where food and water was available. 

Jackson was even able to reestablish internet connectivity for the first time in days through the radio, after one caller mentioned that OnStar was providing free internet to compatible General Motors vehicles in disaster zones.

Haines, with N.C. Emergency Management, noted how vital in-person messaging efforts became to overcome communications breakdowns. NCDPS posted information on bulletin boards outside churches, stores, and firehouses in communities without connectivity, and sent in PIOs to answer questions.

And then there was social media and the internet, the most profound revelation.

Giles and Haines noted the importance of video to broadcast real-time information, as well as channels like X and Facebook. NCDPS and FEMA collaborated with trusted local nonprofits, faith leaders, and influencers to share information through their channels. 

Agencies used their websites to fact-check disinformation in real time, with staffers dedicated to monitoring social media and flagging rumors. Aside from two daily briefings and updating a resource page, Giles spent hours responding to comments, combing through Facebook, and messaging residents to answer questions.

FEMA also coordinated with Starlink, a satellite internet service operated by SpaceX, to get affected areas back online, bolstered by private donations.

“There’s this conduit of information that we can really be pushing out that is more than just press releases and phone calls and talking to reporters,” Haines said. “We can really be reaching the public directly through these venues.”

“The federal government does not have a face,” said Victoria Barton, FEMA’s associate administrator for external affairs, based in Washington, D.C. But she said it can collaborate with trusted sources like local governments and community leaders to share information through their channels so that it is better received. 

Officials have seen success in adopting similar measures in recent disasters.

During a series of wildfires in Georgia this spring, FEMA’s social media team noticed posts saying the agency had recalled firefighters and resources. 

Barton reached out to the regional office and asked them to research the claims, which they deemed false, and confirmed that resources had been accepted and firefighters were on site. The regional administrator and state emergency manager interviewed with local press so people could see the agents working to help them, and Barton said she saw “considerable” improvement within a few days.

Giles trained her emergency management team to share photos and reels of affected areas on social media during floods and thunderstorms this summer, noting the effectiveness of similar posts during Helene. 

Haines said N.C. Emergency Management now uploads videos displaying “the work that goes into everyday activities,” like dealing with hazardous materials and search-and-rescue operations, to show how the “government is working for the residents of North Carolina.” He also said local partners report rumors to the state as they see them, alongside Homeland Security analysts who send information about potential disinformation efforts.

Local public information capabilities have improved, too. Giles and Haines attended a summit this summer to connect with PIOs from local governments across the state and learn counter-disinformation strategies. 

Giles said that N.C. Emergency Management put together a joint information system in response to Helene to streamline communication between PIOs, who are now members of a Microsoft Teams channel to share disinformation as they spot it. PIOs can request assistance from colleagues from other counties if, like Giles, they feel overburdened. 

Barton said FEMA has prepared messaging toolkits to help local governments craft statements as they spot rumors. FEMA also works closely with the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency—an agency within the Department of Homeland Security focused on combating digital threats—to identify potential foreign sources of disinformation. 

The NCDPS after-action report emphasized the need for regular exercises to test agencies’ ability to monitor social media and correct disinformation, ensuring that “PIOs maintain proficiency in these critical skills.” To increase public trust, it also recommended embedding media in training activities, organizing open houses with agency officials, and engaging with local leaders online.

“In [a] crisis, these stakeholders can serve as both trusted messengers who help dispel rumors or disinformation and trusted advisors providing valuable information on public sentiment, community needs, and access to other network influencers,” the report said.

“I feel like we are so much more prepared than we were two years ago,” Giles said. “[I] just hope we never have to exercise those skills.”

‘A Massive Social Problem’

Disinformation is endemic to the digital world. Even if agencies feel better about their ability to combat it, they likely won’t ever be able to eradicate it.

Giemza said strategies like “pre-bunking”—informing people how disinformation spreads so they can recognize it—are effective in principle but rarely practical. It’s impossible to know what rumors or fears will pop up, especially in a resource- and information-stressed environment like Western N.C. after Helene.

The effectiveness of whatever measures agencies take to counter disinformation ultimately relies on a public willing to assume good faith. That’s hard when the power goes out or the lone road connecting residents to town collapses.

It’s even harder as social media magnates, politicians, or digital actors see a potential for personal gain in amplifying conspiracies.

“It’s just a massive social problem in terms of information, media, and civic literacy in our society,” Giemza said. “As long as it’s profitable, and profitable for politicians and manipulators of public sentiment, it’s not going to go anywhere.”

But just because it’s inevitable doesn’t mean it’s not worth fighting. That’s part of the job now.

“We’re here to help,” Haines said. “That’s probably the biggest thing we can do—is just to build that trust.”