How One Baltimore Company Gambled with Public Safety for Four Years

The Threat Beneath the Streets

This here was a story that unfolded in silence, deep beneath the pavement of a Baltimore neighborhood. At the Brody Trucking Co., Inc. facility in Baltimore, two massive tanks lie buried in the earth. One holds 12,000 gallons of diesel fuel. The other held 2,000 gallons of gasohol.

Gasohol for those who are unawares because I had no fucking clue until just now is a mixture of gasoline and ethyl alcohol that’s used in ICE engines.

These barrels are, in essence, slow-motion time bombs, and for four solid years, Brody Trucking Co. simply stopped checking the safety systems designed to prevent a catastrophe.

Diesel and gasoline are not benign substances. The government calls them “regulated substances” for a reason. These be toxic cocktails that can seep into the ground, poison groundwater for generations, and release hazardous fumes.

The safety systems (leak detectors and pipe-pressure tests) are the only things standing between 14,000 gallons of chemicals and the surrounding community.

And for four years, Brody Trucking just let them be.

A Deliberate Blind Eye

Federal and state laws are crystal clear. Companies storing huge quantities of fuel underground must perform annual tests on their equipment to make sure it works. They have to check that the automatic leak detectors can actually, well, detect a leak. They also have to test the pressurized pipes that carry the fuel to make sure they are sealed tight. These are fundamental requirements for the privilege of handling hazardous materials.

The last time Brody Trucking bothered to perform these critical safety checks was on July 18, 2019. A pre-COVID inspection. Then, for reasons the official record doesn’t explain, they just stopped. The deadline in July 2020 came and went. Then 2021. Then 2022. And again in 2023. Each missed deadline was another spin of the roulette wheel, with a neighborhood’s health as the wager.

This pattern of neglect only came to light on August 7, 2024, when the Environmental Protection Agency showed up and conducted a surprise inspection.

Faced with federal inspectors on their property, the company’s four-year gamble was up. And what happened next is perhaps the most telling detail of all. Just two days after the EPA caught them red-handed, on August 9, 2024, Brody Trucking suddenly managed to get the tests done. Magically, the resources and ability to ensure their facility was safe reappeared.

It seems it was never a question of can’t. It was a question of didn’t want to, until they got caught.

A Pattern of Harm

The Price of “Compliance”

Please teach me how to make data tables properly. When a company ignores basic safety rules, it externalizes the risk. Brody Trucking saved a little money and time on tests, while the community unknowingly shouldered the danger of a potential leak that could have poisoned their environment for decades.

This is the quiet, insidious nature of so much corporate misconduct. It’s not always a dramatic, headline-grabbing disaster. Sometimes, it’s the disaster that could have happened. It’s the silent threat that erodes trust and makes you wonder what other corners are being cut in the name of efficiency or profit.

And what was the consequence for this four-year breach of public trust? A civil penalty of $62,734.

For a trucking company, this amount is likely little more than a rounding error—the cost of doing business. Crucially, as part of the settlement, Brody Trucking doesn’t have to admit to any of the facts or violations the EPA laid out.

They write a check, promise to follow the rules they should have been following all along, and the matter is resolved. No executive is held personally responsible. No admission of wrongdoing is required. The system moves on.

But the question lingers: Does a fine that barely stings actually change behavior? Or does it just teach a company to better factor the cost of getting caught into its business model?

Demanding More Than the Bare Minimum

This case in Baltimore is a microcosm of a much larger issue. We rely on a fragile pact with corporations: they get to operate and profit, and in return, they must follow rules designed to keep the rest of us safe. But when enforcement is spotty and penalties are treated as a mere business expense, that pact is broken.

True accountability would mean penalties that are genuinely painful, not just inconvenient. It would mean holding individuals, not just faceless corporate entities, responsible for decisions that endanger communities. And it would mean investing in our regulatory agencies, like the EPA, so they can do more than just spot-check for compliance—they can be a constant, vigilant presence protecting the public good.

The tanks under Brody Trucking’s property may be compliant today, but the trust, once broken, is harder to repair. The real solution isn’t just fixing a leak detector after the fact; it’s building a system where a company wouldn’t dare to ignore it in the first place.

All factual claims in this article are sourced from U.S. EPA Docket No. RCRA-03-2025-0135, filed on August 21, 2025.

The consent agreement for this case can be found on the EPA’s website by clicking on this following link https://yosemite.epa.gov/OA/RHC/EPAAdmin.nsf/Filings/3FBCBE43ADDB5FDD85258CED006F43B6/$File/Brody%20Trucking%20Co%20Inc%20_RCRA%20CAFO_Aug%2021%202025_Redacted.pdf