The promise of peace and prosperity that Sasha and Jamie Cordle saw in their small rural Georgia farm has turned into a health nightmare. Nestled in the rolling green hills outside Dalton — known proudly as the “Carpet Capital of the World” — their 12-acre property was supposed to be an inheritance of stability and soil-rich legacy for their five children and growing line of grandchildren.
Instead, it may be poisoning them.
Tests show that the Cordles’ spring water — once pristine and cold from beneath North Georgia’s hills — is heavily contaminated with per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS, toxic compounds dubbed “forever chemicals” because they barely break down in nature or the human body. Water samples taken from their land reveal levels of PFAS tens of thousands of times greater than the federally recommended limit — a contamination linked to nearby carpet factories that dominate this corner of Georgia’s economy.
“It scares us,” says Sasha, 38, seated at her kitchen table with water samples in plastic jugs lined up like evidence. A dispatcher by day, she’s watched her health deteriorate since moving to the property in 2020. “Some days I can barely stand. What about our kids? Our granddaughter? What’s going to happen to them?”
The Cordles are among a growing number of families sounding the alarm about PFAS pollution in northwestern Georgia. Their story is emblematic of an emerging environmental disaster — one that combines industrial negligence, corporate legal evasions, regulatory weakness, and the personal costs of chemical contamination now spreading across America’s heartland.
PFAS are a class of over 10,000 synthetic chemicals engineered for their remarkable resistance to heat, water, grease, and stains. First developed in the 1940s, they’ve been used in products like nonstick cookware, firefighting foam, food wrappers, waterproof clothing, and notably, stain-resistant carpets — a staple of Dalton’s massive carpet industry.
But that convenience has come at a price.
These chemicals do not break down easily. In fact, their carbon-fluorine bonds are among the strongest in chemistry, allowing them to persist for centuries in soil and water. They accumulate in the body over time, and growing evidence links them to a range of diseases: cancers, thyroid disorders, infertility, immune system suppression, and developmental issues in children.
Today, PFAS are detected in the blood of virtually all Americans — and nearly every living species on Earth.
And nowhere in the U.S. are levels higher than in parts of northwest Georgia.
Dalton and the surrounding Whitfield County are home to titans like Shaw Industries and Mohawk Industries, whose mills churn out over 85% of the nation’s carpet. These facilities have long used PFAS compounds to make textiles stain-resistant and more durable.
The problem, according to scientists, regulators, and lawsuits, is that the industry has for decades discharged PFAS-laced wastewater into local sewer systems never designed to remove the chemicals. Sludge from these treatment facilities was then applied to farmland as fertilizer, spreading the contamination even further.
Additionally, airborne PFAS emissions have settled into the soil and water table, migrating into springs, ponds, and streams. Water testing reveals that some springs in the area discharge into nearby creeks at concentrations exceeding 180,000 parts per trillion (ppt) — a shocking figure compared to the EPA’s safe drinking water standard of 4 ppt.
The contamination is not theoretical for families like the Cordles. Since moving to their property in 2020, Sasha has been diagnosed with two autoimmune disorders, high blood pressure, and chronic fatigue. “Some mornings, I feel like I’m 80,” she says.
Her adult children also suffer from unexplained ailments. Even their animals — especially goats — have experienced multiple stillbirths and visible birth defects.
“You start connecting the dots,” Jamie Cordle says, a long-haul truck driver who’s rarely home for more than a few days at a time. “It’s in the water, in the soil, in the food chain. What are we supposed to do? Move away and start over?”
Yet for most families here, leaving is not an option. Their homes — some passed down through generations — have lost significant value. “No one’s going to buy a contaminated farm,” Sasha says. “We’re stuck.”
The Cordles are now plaintiffs in a growing wave of lawsuits targeting Shaw, Mohawk, 3M, Chemours, and other chemical and manufacturing companies. They are seeking millions in damages to clean up their land — a process that attorneys estimate could cost up to $1 million per acre.
“We’re drawing a direct line between PFAS exposure, plummeting property values, and the staggering cost of remediation,” says attorney Ben Finley, who represents 18 families and is actively recruiting more through public town halls.
Finley’s team works closely with Bob Bowcock, a nationally recognized water expert and former advisor to Erin Brockovich. Bowcock has tested hundreds of water and soil samples across the region and says the numbers he’s seeing are “beyond alarming.”
“In some spots, the contamination is industrial-level — not just a little pollution, but catastrophic,” he says. “And this isn’t just about drinking water. PFAS gets into plants, cows, milk, eggs, and everything that grows.”
Though the Biden administration introduced the first enforceable national drinking water limits for six types of PFAS in 2023, those rules are already under attack. Under former President Trump, PFAS regulations were weakened, and enforcement deadlines were postponed. The result is a regulatory whiplash that leaves affected communities in limbo.
Dalton’s own municipal utility, Dalton Utilities, has filed its own suit against carpet makers, arguing that manufacturers misled them about the dangers of PFAS. Meanwhile, Mohawk has sued 3M, a major PFAS chemical supplier, in a separate case — creating a legal maze of finger-pointing.
“Ironically, the companies are now blaming each other,” says Finley. “But no one’s disputing that PFAS is here, and people are getting sick.”
The human toll in Dalton is as emotional as it is physical. For many, working at the carpet mills was a proud family tradition — until it became a source of sorrow.
Mary Janet Clark, 62, worked in the mills for most of her life. She later developed ovarian cancer and now suffers from a brain tumor. Her son, David Wray, is furious.
“My mom gave them her life. She got nothing in return but sickness,” he says. “They built billion-dollar companies off our backs — and now they won’t even acknowledge us.”
Teresa Ensley, a 57-year-old human resources manager, lost her brother, father, and husband to cancer within a few years. Her brother and husband both died of colon cancer — one of the diseases strongly linked to PFAS exposure. Teresa and her mother, 81, suffer from severe thyroid disorders and had hysterectomies in recent years.
“It’s like a slow poison in this community,” she says, tears in her eyes.
For Greg and Sharon Eads, retirement was supposed to be quiet afternoons on their 80-acre farm, cattle grazing under Georgia skies. But their dream collapsed after testing showed dangerously high levels of PFAS in their wells and pastures.
They own more than $50,000 in cattle — all now off-limits for meat or milk.
“It’s a petting zoo,” Greg says, bitterly. “I can’t sell them, I can’t eat them, and I can’t afford to raise them forever.”
A few calves have been born with visible deformities. One, a healthy-looking newborn, was born during a recent visit — a tiny flicker of hope after so much loss. But even that moment was tinged with uncertainty. “We don’t know what’s in her blood,” Sharon whispers.
In Dalton, the crisis has begun to polarize the town. On one side are families demanding accountability and cleanup. On the other, the carpet industry remains the largest local employer. Some residents worry that too much pressure could destroy the local economy.
“It’s like a slow civil war,” one longtime resident said at a town hall. “Everyone knows someone who’s sick. But people are afraid to bite the hand that feeds them.”
