Victoria County, a little slice of the Texas chemical coast, has nearly 39 million pounds of concoctions that can poison and nearly 11 million pounds that can catch fire.

“A potential for a catastrophic event” is how one federal agency described the risk if they leak. A temptation for terrorists, added another.

But Victoria County cannot use a firefighter’s basic tool for preventing industrial disaster: a fire code.

Texas won’t let the county adopt one.

In piney-woods southeast Texas, nearly 250,000 people within 25 miles of a paper mill could breathe chlorine or chlorine-dioxide gas after a worst-case fire or accident. Some could die.

But Texas won’t let Jasper County adopt a fire code.

And on the Panhandle plains of Parmer County, 10 companies keep 2.3 million pounds of anhydrous ammonia on hand to fertilize crops or refrigerate meat. If ammonia leaks, it forms a killing cloud.

But Texas won’t let Parmer County adopt a fire code.

Those counties are the Texas norm.

Despite the lessons from the West Fertilizer Co. fire and explosions about the value of fire prevention, site security and safe storage of dangerous goods, Texas prohibits nearly 70 percent of its counties from having a fire code.

Fire codes aren’t just for fires. They also contain rules for managing explosive or toxic chemicals, including specific guidelines for ammonium-nitrate fertilizer, the substance that exploded and killed 15 people and injured 200 in West on April 17.

Fire code rules emerge from tragic history.

“We have these rules and regulations because of past experience,” said Dallas County Fire Marshal Robert De Los Santos, who enforces the fire code in the county’s unincorporated areas.

“It’s just like a stoplight. Most places don’t have them until we have so many fatalities and so many wrecks.

“It’s a shame that it has to be that way.”

Not allowed

Yet for 173 of Texas’ 254 counties, adopting rules based on that experience is illegal. They are either below 250,000 in population or don’t touch a county of that size.

Having fewer people doesn't mean less risk. Those counties contain some of the most dangerous chemicals and industrial processes in Texas, The Dallas Morning News found.

“It’s not 1956 anymore,” said Jasper County Judge Mark Allen, whose county, while mostly rural, has multiple potential sources of industrial risks.

“It’s not 1964 or ’65,” Allen said. “We’re not Mayberry. We have life-threatening events every day.”

But 85 percent of the code-prohibited counties have no full-time professional fire department anywhere in the county, The News found. Only a few bigger industries have their own specially trained and equipped in-house fire brigades.

Training and gear for chemical emergencies are beyond the reach of most volunteer fire departments. In the 173 counties that cannot adopt a fire code, 21 have established local emergency-services districts, but few of those provide enough money even to cover the basics.

With a state-mandated tax cap of 10 cents per $100 in assessed property value, a $100,000 home provides an emergency-services district with no more than $100 a year.

Standard turnout gear for a volunteer firefighter can cost thousands. Many departments rely on fish-fry fundraisers and coin jars on local store counters just for essentials.

Chris Barron, executive director of the State Firemen’s and Fire Marshals’ Association of Texas, said he’s seen local volunteers thrilled to be able to buy an aging water tank truck, paint it red and put a flashing light on top.

The association, based in Austin, advocates for better fire-service funding, including for volunteers.

Barron is also chief of the Manchaca Volunteer Fire Department south of Austin. He said he knows an alarm sends volunteers scrambling, even into a chemical crisis for which they can’t afford full training or equipment.

“That’s not going to stop them,” Barron said.

At 40 words, barely longer than a blurb, the Texas law barring most county fire codes rested in obscurity for years, tucked between arcane rules on building setbacks and structure improvements. Builders had objected to attempts to expand fire codes.

An attempt to scrap the law in this year’s legislative session failed. The death of a bill from Rep. Walter “Four” Price, R-Amarillo, without a full House vote, even after West, dismayed fire-safety advocates.

“I guess we’re just not there yet,” said Barron.

There’s no guarantee that the kinds of practices a fire code contains would have prevented an explosion like the one in West. But investigative results point that way.

A code inspection might have caught a wiring problem or a housekeeping risk from an old golf cart recharging in the warehouse where the fire started — two possible causes that investigators couldn’t rule out.

Site security, a code staple for hazardous chemicals, might have kept out an arsonist, another possible cause.

No matter the trigger, sprinklers — code-recommended for large-volume bulk storage of ammonium nitrate, but absent from West Fertilizer — might have doused the flames before the explosions.

“Industrial processes are an important part of fire-code protections — explosive dust, ammonium nitrate, hydrogen processing,” said Donald Bliss, vice president for field operations of the National Fire Protection Association, one of two major fire code-writing groups in the U.S.

A fire code has no power until a local government adopts it. The International Fire Code, a product of the International Code Council, is the most widely used in Texas.

Studies have documented the benefits of fire codes many times. Fire calls in the U.S. have dropped by roughly half since 1977, with code-related steps such as safer building practices, smoke alarms and sprinklers getting credit.

In practice, code enforcers can’t inspect every business all the time, Bliss said. As with police radar, it’s focused on the streets with the most speeders.

Not that expensive

Despite fears that a fire code would force businesses to spend big sums on compliance, many problems can be fixed for little or no money, with the inspector serving as an adviser, Bliss said. Codes tend to teach more than punish.

“The application of a fire code is 95 percent educational,” Bliss said.

Bruce Johnson, director of fire-service activities for the International Code Council, said codes have been proved to save lives and property for a fraction of the cost of disasters.

In addition to those killed or hurt, the West blast may have caused $100 million in damage. The investigation cost $1 million more.

Experts have estimated that $40,000 worth of sprinklers might have prevented it.

“What you save by not adopting a code upfront can cost a lot more when disaster strikes, both in the cost of property damage and the loss of life — occupants and the firefighters who have to battle the fire,” Johnson said.

“Code adoption is an investment in safety.”

Still, a local government’s power to adopt a fire code does not guarantee that it will do so, even if risk sits right next door.

West Fertilizer is an example.

Its property is split between the town of West and unincorporated McLennan County. To the east are farms. To the west, until the blast, were homes, schools and people.

The town and county could have adopted a fire code under state law, but they didn’t. Still, they have said they were prepared. Officials cite a limited evacuation that the explosion cut short 22 minutes after the fire was reported.

At a Texas House committee hearing May 1, state public safety officials said the system worked. But that assumption leaves out preventing a disaster.

It is an assumption that prevails either by local choice or state order in most of Texas. Uninspected risk sources include chemical handlers, factories and hundreds of other businesses types.

The ammonium-nitrate fertilizer trade illustrates the point. The News checked the locations of 28 retailers and one wholesale custom blender. Each reported its stockpiles under federal law.

Some dealerships are out in the country, shielded by farms and fields. Others are in the middle of towns.

Of the 29 businesses, 17 are in cities or counties that could adopt a fire code if they chose. Only three have done so: Terrell and Corsicana, sites of El Dorado Chemical outlets; and Amarillo, where Gavilon Fertilizer operates.

The rest are in towns that haven’t adopted a code or in unincorporated parts of counties that are prohibited from adopting one.

Ammonium nitrate isn't the only such risk. The News found that 137 of the 173 code-prohibited counties have one or more industries that must file a risk-management plan with the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.

The facilities handle chemicals that could kill or injure people, often large numbers, if they escaped. The plans were a response to the 1984 Union Carbide plant leak in Bhopal, India, that killed unknown thousands.

In 47 of the counties, companies use or store chemicals that the U.S. Department of Homeland Security considers “of interest” for possible misuse by terrorists or other criminals. Those chemicals rank high as explosive or poisonous threats.

An undetermined number of the counties have companies that use chemicals on the Occupational Safety and Health Administration’s high-hazards list. They pose an imminent hazard to workers and the public if mishandled.

In 26 of the counties, at least one local industry ranks among the 100 most toxic air polluters in Texas.

In five of the counties, all of those risks occur at once — and the counties have no full-time fire departments: Calhoun, Fayette, Goliad, Jasper and Robertson.

In Jasper County, the six volunteer fire departments rolled on 342 fire calls in 2011, according to state figures. Most were “other fires,” meaning grass and woodlands.

One-third were structure fires. In all the fires, one resident was killed and four were injured.

'Pine Curtain'

Jasper County — population 36,296, hidden behind what locals call the “Pine Curtain” — has 437 businesses that raise some kind of environmental issue, EPA files show. They include an assortment of large and small industries, gas companies, filling stations and others.

And it has a big paper mill, Meadwestvaco Texas L.P., that reported to the EPA having 83,280 pounds of chlorine dioxide on site. It’s also one of Texas’ top toxic air polluters.

Jasper County Judge Allen said he’s heard no local calls for a county fire code since the West Fertilizer explosion. Perhaps the county wouldn’t adopt one even if it could, he said.

But he’s not happy that the state won’t let Jasper County decide.

“The state should allow that local government body to have that option,” he said.

A fire code would be an extra tool to keep the public safe by preventing risks before they occur. He called that the county's top job. Nobody, including the state, should tell the county otherwise, he said.

“I’m pro-business,” Allen said. “I’m pro-economic development.

“But I’m also pro-public safety.”

AT A GLANCE

Among The News' findings

State law forbids 173 of Texas’ 254 counties from adopting a fire code, based on population. Within those counties:

150 have no full-time fire departments.

137 have companies that use hazardous chemicals covered by a mandatory risk-management plan.

47 have companies that use chemicals the U.S. Department of Homeland Security considers risks for terrorist or criminal misuse.

26 have industries that rank among the top 100 toxic air polluters in Texas.

An undetermined number have chemicals that the Occupational Safety and Health Administration says pose severe risks to workers and the public.

Five counties have all those risks at once: Calhoun, Fayette, Goliad, Jasper and Robertson.