
ANNAPOLIS, Md. – If Rachael Chaney ever gets down about her myriad health problems, she knows that crying won’t help. She is allergic to her own tears.
For years, the 45-year-old mother of two was mystified about what was going on with her body. About seven years ago, doctors diagnosed her with lupus, an incurable disease that leads to joint swelling, fatigue and a host of other problems.
Then, new symptoms flared up a year and a half ago: coughing, trouble using her voice and disfigurement of the cartilage in her nose and ears. Chaney was eventually diagnosed with relapsing polychondritis, an affliction thought to affect only 1 in 285,000 people.
The exact causes remain unclear for both autoimmune diseases, but researchers suspect that a person’s genes or environmental triggers could be to blame. So, when Chaney learned a few weeks ago that her home’s drinking water has been contaminated by a class of toxic chemicals, she was surprised but not shocked.
“I thought, ‘This is what all this might be about,’” Chaney recalled.
That may or may not be the case. There is no evidence to link the recently discovered contamination to existing health problems. But what is known is that Chaney and hundreds of her neighbors on the east side of Salisbury, MD, find themselves ensnared in an escalating public health crisis sparked by the detection of high levels of “forever chemicals” leaching into the groundwater beneath their homes.
The investigation originated at a large industrial plant operated by Perdue Farms. The source of the contamination remains unknown. But the Maryland Department of the Environment has designated Perdue as the “responsible person,” putting the company in charge of the cleanup.
Many residents in this community on Maryland’s Eastern Shore have reacted to the news with ambivalence. Perdue, one of the top four chicken producers in the U.S., has been headquartered in Salisbury since its founding more than a century ago. It is the second-largest private employer in the surrounding county, and no one here, it seems, wants to see the company pay too dearly over the pollution nightmare.
“If they weren’t here, I don’t think our community could survive,” Chaney said. “As much as I’m angry with them, I don’t want to harm them in any way.”
That sentiment is shared by an unlikely figure: one of the attorneys leading the class-action lawsuit against Perdue recently filed in federal court.
At a public meeting hosted in October by the law firm Baird Mandalas Brockstedt & Federico, Phil Federico sought to assure the audience of more than 350 residents that he and his colleagues aren’t trying to put the family-owned enterprise out of business.
Perdue’s impact extends beyond its role as an employer, he added, pointing to the corporate largesse that led to its name being emblazoned on the local minor league baseball stadium and the business school building at Salisbury University.
“We’re simply here to fix the problem,” the attorney said.

Forever chemicals were dubbed as such because they linger in the environment and even human blood for many years. They are a group of more than 12,000 chemicals known as PFAS, or per– and polyfluoroalkyl substances. They have been used for decades in a wide variety of products, such as firefighting foam, carpeting and food packaging.
Experts have linked PFAS exposure, even in trace amounts, to certain cancers, high cholesterol, liver damage, decreased fertility, developmental delays and weakened immune systems, among other health problems.
Salisbury is no outlier. Over the past decade, PFAS have been found in an alarming number of public and private drinking water sources nationwide. More than 25% of Americans living in the continental U.S. might rely on groundwater with detectable concentrations of PFAS, according to a new U.S. Geological Survey study based on computer modeling.
“PFAS were invented many decades ago, and they’ve had a long time to spread across the environment,” said Andrea Tokranov, a USGS hydrologist and the study’s lead author. Among the six Chesapeake Bay states, the percentage of at-risk residents ranged from 9% in Virginia to 32% in Delaware.
The 250-acre Perdue plant at the center of the Salisbury investigation contains a soybean-processing plant, a chicken hatchery and a grain-storage facility. MDE detected PFAS in wastewater there in September 2023 as part of a statewide campaign to test potential hot spots. The Perdue concentrations stood out, ranging from below detectable levels to 1,370 parts per trillion. The federal drinking water limit is 4 parts per trillion.
But neither the state nor Perdue notified the public until about a year after the initial discovery. They say it took time to drill additional monitoring wells on the west side of Perdue’s property and gather evidence that the groundwater contamination was migrating off-site.
“That’s when we had the information to inform the [other] property owners,” said Lee Currey, director of MDE’s water and science administration.
Several residents at the October meeting criticized Perdue and the state for not sounding the alarm sooner. The atmosphere inside the standing-room-only hall was tense. At times, audible gasps rent the air.
“It’s got a lot of people on edge,” said Rick Wawrzeniak, president of Heather Glen homeowners association, in an interview. “I’m trying to be patient because I suspect certainly Perdue is taking steps to try to address the problem.”
Like dozens of residents, he has accepted Perdue’s offer to have bottled water delivered regularly to his home free of charge. The company also has vowed to install whole-house filtration systems on any home with elevated PFAS levels.
As of mid-November, Perdue officials said their well-testing consultant had sampled the groundwater at about 350 properties. As a result of the initial testing, the company and MDE agreed to expand the testing zone westward, increasing the number of affected properties from 600 to more than 900.
“Right now, we’re worrying about doing the right thing for the community,” Perdue CEO Kevin McAdams said. Company officials say PFAS compounds aren’t used in any manufacturing at the site.
When it was her turn to speak at the microphone at the town hall, Susan Wood, who lives about a quarter-mile north of the plant, said she worried what the recent well water tests might reveal.
“But,” she added with rising emotion, “I don’t have any driving desire to crucify Perdue. [For] many people in this room — faces that I see and I recognize as local farmers — Perdue has provided an income for their entire careers, and none of us want to see that industry ruined.”
The lawsuit calls on Perdue to stop the pollution and pay damages to cover a medical monitoring program. It also seeks to compensate residents for the loss of quality of life and diminished property values.
Attorneys representing the residents say they aren’t sure how much of a financial windfall the case might generate, assuming it’s successful. But a figure they shared at the Salisbury town hall hinted at the stakes involved. Federico told the audience he expects his firm to accrue $3 million–$5 million in costs pursuing the case.
“Why?” he asked rhetorically. “Because we know it’s a good case. Why? Because it’s the right thing to do. Why? Because hopefully, we’ll get our money back, and I think we will.”
