Disaster case management is a coordinating relationship, not a decision authority. A case manager can assess a household's needs, develop a recovery plan, advocate with other agencies, and make referrals. She cannot override an insurer's denial, compel a landlord to authorize repairs, or commit resources controlled by another program.1 She is the person in the recovery system who sees the most and controls the least.
The federal intake form she fills out collects "self-identified disaster-caused unmet needs" — food, housing, utilities, transportation, funeral costs — categorized around this event, this declaration, this incident.2 There is no field for what the previous disaster cost in savings, relationships, or sick days. When the same household returns after a second or third climate event, the form starts from zero.
A growing body of research documents what happens to households across consecutive disasters: recovery debt from one event compounds hardship under the next; even middle-income families risk falling into poverty under successive shocks; and the close social ties people rely on — the sister who takes the kids, the neighbor with the truck — decline with each event without recovering.3 4
We wanted to talk to someone who watches this happen from inside the case file. Marguerite "Maggie" Fontenot has worked disaster case management in Southwest Louisiana since 2019. She is also, we should note, fictional — a composite built from published research, federal program documentation, and practitioner accounts, because the real Maggies are currently managing caseloads that make sitting for interviews an act of triage they can't justify. We spoke over the phone on a Tuesday afternoon. She had forty-five minutes before her next home visit.
You've been doing this work through multiple events now. When a household you've seen before shows up in your caseload again, what's different about that intake conversation?
Maggie: The form is identical. Same fields. "Self-identified disaster-caused unmet needs." And I'm sitting across from someone I helped two years ago, and I know the savings account they used to cover their deductible last time is empty. I know their mother-in-law took them in for six weeks and that relationship is now, let's say, complicated. But there's no box for "depleted informal support network." No field for "this family already spent their cushion." The form wants to know what this storm did. And what this storm did is land on a family that was already hollowed out by the last one.
So the form structurally can't see cumulative damage.
Maggie: It wasn't designed to. And I want to be fair about why. The program is authorized per-declaration. Each disaster gets its own funding, its own period of performance, ordinarily up to twenty-four months.1 That makes bureaucratic sense. But the river doesn't care about your declaration number. The family doesn't get a new set of resources because FEMA opened a new DR number. They get a new intake form.
What does "resilient" mean to you at this point?
Maggie: Oh, I have feelings about that word.
The family that got through the first event? They were incredible. They found a contractor when there was a six-month wait. They kept the kids in school. Dad slept in the car for a week so the kids could have the one dry bedroom. And from the outside, from the report that goes up to the state, that looks like resilience. Community resilience. Check the box.
From inside the case file? That family burned through everything. The competence was the spending. Every clever workaround — the aunt who watched the kids, the credit card that covered the gap between the insurance payout and the actual repair cost, the PTO days — those aren't renewable. You don't get those back.
So when I see them again eighteen months later, and someone at a meeting says "well, this community has demonstrated resilience," I think: yes, and a bank account that's been withdrawn from four times has also demonstrated functionality. That doesn't mean there's anything left in it.
The research on consecutive disasters talks about social capital declining with each event — close ties wearing down without recovering.4 Do you see that?
Maggie: The aunt who stopped answering the phone. That's what it looks like. Not dramatic. No fight. She helped last time. She helped the time before that. And now she's dealing with her own roof, her own claim, her own mold. Or she's just tired. And the family doesn't blame her. They don't even mention it at intake. They just don't list her as a resource this time.
I notice, because I have the notes from before. The form doesn't notice, because the form doesn't remember.
What happens when a case closes?
Maggie: A case can close because needs were met, because resources weren't available, because the client stopped engaging, or because the program period ended.1 All of those are "closed." The reporting doesn't distinguish between "this family recovered" and "we ran out of time and money."
Closed is a statement about the case. It tells you nothing about the family.
That's bleak.
Maggie: That's accurate. Bleak is a judgment. I'm describing a data field.
You can see all of this — the depletion, the exhausted networks, the gap between what closed means and what recovered means. What can you actually do with that knowledge?
Maggie: I can coordinate. I can refer. I can advocate. I can write a very detailed recovery plan. I can call the insurer and sit on hold for ninety minutes and explain the situation to someone who has no authority to change anything either. What I cannot do is bind another program's eligibility decision, override a denial, or make a contractor appear.1
I have more information about what this family needs than anyone else in the system. And less power to produce it than the landlord, the adjuster, or the guy at the SBA loan office.
The research suggests that the administrative process itself — the paperwork, the denials, the hold times — consumes the very resources people need for the next step.5 Does that match what you see?
Maggie: I had a family — and I'm being general here, not one family — who got a letter from FEMA requesting additional documentation. They read it as a denial. They stopped engaging. Not because they didn't need help. Because the process of getting help had already cost them days of work, hours on the phone, and the emotional bandwidth to keep explaining their situation to new people every time. The 2026 GAO report found the same pattern — survivors reading requests for information as denials, even after FEMA revised the letters.6
The system's friction selects for people who can afford to keep pushing. Everyone else falls out quietly.
You've been doing this for seven years now. How are you?
Maggie: (long pause) I have forty-five minutes between home visits and I'm spending them talking to a journalist. So.
I'll say this: the research on burnout and secondary trauma exists for healthcare providers and crisis counselors, but not really for people doing exactly my job — long-term case managers carrying a hundred-plus cases through repeated climate events in communities they live in.7 We're a gap in the literature. Which is fitting, because we spend our careers documenting gaps.
If you could add one field to the intake form, what would it be?
Maggie: "What did the last disaster cost you that you haven't gotten back?"
And then a blank space big enough to actually answer it.
The Docket's Lab section publishes experimental formats that serve the publication's mission through forms its other sections can't accommodate. This interview is grounded in published research, federal program documentation, and practitioner accounts cited below. Maggie Fontenot is a composite — but the structural conditions she describes are documented.
Footnotes
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FEMA, Individual Assistance Program and Policy Guide (IAPPG), amended July 2025. https://www.fema.gov/sites/default/files/documents/fema_iappg-1.1_amended_july2025.pdf ↩ ↩2 ↩3 ↩4
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FEMA-Administered Disaster Case Management Intake Form (FF-104-FY-21-146/147). https://www.dhs.gov/sites/default/files/2022-06/fema-administeredintakeform-june2022_1.pdf ↩
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Buijs, S.L., et al., "Exploring recovery complexity in the context of consecutive disasters," Natural Hazards and Earth System Sciences, 26, 3559–3578, July 2026. https://nhess.copernicus.org/articles/26/3559/2026/ ↩
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Li, A., and McNaught, R., "Effects of cumulative exposures to climate-related disasters on social capital," International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction, Vol. 142, August 2026. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2212420926002220 ↩ ↩2
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"The Administrative Burden of Disaster Assistance," RSF: The Russell Sage Foundation Journal of the Social Sciences, 2023. https://www.rsfjournal.org/content/9/5/122 ↩
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GAO-26-108154, FEMA Assistance for Disaster Survivors. https://www.gao.gov/products/gao-26-108154 ↩
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Santavirta, N., et al., "What Comes First, Job Burnout or Secondary Traumatic Stress?" PLOS ONE, 2015. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4549333/ ↩
