
Not only did some residents lose most, if not all, of their belongings in the South Point subdivision of Denham Springs, Louisiana, but because the floodwaters washed away house numbers and mailboxes, people spray-painted their addresses on doors so police and insurance adjusters can find their homes.

Laytrom Rheams wears muck boots as he works to gut his home of eight years because a quarter-inch of water remained in his carpet almost a week after the historic flooding began. One of his first orders of business: remove the sheet rock so he can treat his home's beams in hopes of combating mold.

Rheams was at a cousin's funeral in Chicago when America's worst natural disaster since Hurricane Sandy struck his three-bedroom, two-bathroom house in Denham Springs. He came home to utter destruction. "The baby's toys are gone, her TV, her clothes, furniture, appliances -- ain't nothing around here to keep," he told CNN.

National Guard Sgt. 1st Class Tommy Owens and his roommate had been working for months to renovate the South Point home they bought in January. Owens was working with the Guard to rescue folks in St. Helena Parish when the storm hit. His superiors let him go check on his home, and he found all the new trappings -- porcelain floors, crown molding, new appliances -- inundated with floodwater. Hanging clothes were some of the only salvageable belongings.

Owens' roommate, Staff Sgt. Pamela Vance, right, and her sister, Jennifer, carry some of Vance's and Owens' prized furniture pieces out of their home. Vance hails from Slidell, Louisiana, and was a victim of Hurricane Katrina. She likens the flooding in Denham Springs to the devastating 2005 natural disaster. "All these emotions run through, and you say: 'God, why? Again? Everything you worked for?' "

Austin Schexnayder points to the black mold that is already forming along his home's baseboards. He lost just about everything in his four-bedroom, two-bathroom home. His insurance company called him Thursday, August 18, to tell him his $1,800-a-year policy didn't cover the destruction. "It's scary, dude, the fact that we pay all this money and can't get no help at the end of it."

Though some homes were spared in the South Point neighborhood, many saw up to 4 feet of water. Evacuees couldn't reach their homes until four or five days after the flooding began. The scope of the destruction is evident in the debris piles in residents' yards, some of which sit 6 feet high taller. Everything from toys to appliances to official-looking documents to lingerie -- even a little pink bike with tassels on its handlebars -- can be found in the yards.

Nourreddine Azmi, a longtime resident of the Baton Rouge area, is one of the few South Point residents with flood insurance. Still, he wonders if his policy will cover some of his most beloved possessions, including posh furniture from his native Morocco and his 1929 Mercedes Gazelle. When the flooding hit, he lost phone service and couldn't find his family for two days, so no matter what happens, he said, he considers himself a fortunate man. Material belongings can be replaced, he said.

Anthony Williams, at the grill on the right, was lucky. His home sits a couple of feet higher than those of his across-the-street neighbors. It was eerie seeing the destruction, he said, and in a way he felt guilty that his home wasn't inundated as well. On August 18 he held a barbecue, grilling up burgers and dogs for his neighbors. Another fortunate neighbor a few doors down had grilling duties the day before and cooked up a pile of chicken and ribs for everyone.


