Moraine, Ohio, in 2014 was a town waiting with bated breath. The hulking old General Motors plant, a relic of better days, sat still since 2008, its closure a blow to the city of auto workers and their families. And then came Fuyao Glass America, a Chinese company with high hopes of turning the empty facility into a gleaming factory for auto glass. With nearly $1 billion invested and promises of over 2,000 jobs, Fuyao vowed to be a lifeline—a means of bringing pride and paychecks to a Rust Belt city. Instead, what unfolded was a story of ambition, culture clash, and tragedy, documented in the Oscar-winning 2020 Netflix documentary American Factory and now marred by a shocking federal investigation. This is the human side of Fuyao's adventure in Ohio, where dreams of rebirth crashed into the cruel realities of labor, religion, and disillusion.
A Spark of Hope in Moraine
When Fuyao arrived in town, it was like the sun breaking through after a long night of darkness. The company, under the leadership of Chinese billionaire Cao Dewang, had built a global empire manufacturing glass for cars—think windshield for Ford trucks or Tesla's sleek EVs. In Moraine, Fuyao saw a chance to establish a foothold in America's auto heartland, and locals saw a way out of economic despair. By 2016, the old GM plant was humming again, its massive furnaces glowing as workers churned out glass for Detroit’s biggest names. Ohio threw in millions in tax breaks, and the factory became the world’s largest of its kind, a point of pride for a town that had lost so much.
For people like Dave Burrows, a former GM worker featured in American Factory, Fuyao was a second chance. Dave, with his quick laugh and weathered hands, had spent years scraping by after the GM plant closed. Fuyao offered him a job, but it wasn’t the one he’d known. Gone were the union wages and predictable shifts. Instead, he earned $12.84 an hour—barely enough to cover rent—working in a sweltering factory where the pace was relentless and the risks were real. Still, Dave showed up every day, grateful for the work but wondering if this was the American Dream he’d been promised.
A Clash of Worlds
Inside the factory, two worlds collided. Chinese managers, used to disciplined crews back home, expected long hours and unwavering commitment. American workers, many of them ex-GM veterans, wanted respect, fair pay, and a say in how things were run. The American Factory documentary, produced by Barack and Michelle Obama’s Higher Ground, caught it all: the awkward moments when language barriers led to misunderstandings, the frustration of workers like Jill Lamantia, who juggled family life with unpredictable overtime, and the quiet dignity of Chinese employees like Wong He, who lived in cramped apartments far in order to provide for their families back home.
The cultural divide wasn’t just about language or customs—it was about power. Workers like Dave felt micromanaged, their every move scrutinized by supervisors who seemed to value output over people. One scene in the documentary showed a Chinese trainer praising the “efficiency” of workers who skipped breaks, while American employees shook their heads, muttering about burnout. For many, the factory felt like a pressure cooker, where the heat wasn’t just from the furnaces but from the constant push to do more with less.
The Fight for a Voice
By 2016, tensions boiled over. Workers like Shawnea Rosser, a single mom and vocal union supporter, had had enough. They wanted better wages, safer conditions, and a union to give them a voice. The United Auto Workers (UAW) stepped in, rallying hundreds of employees to organize. But Fuyao fought back hard. The company hired anti-union consultants, held meetings to sway workers, and, according to some, pressured organizers to back off. Shawnea and others said they faced retaliation—shift changes, write-ups, even firings—for speaking out.
The union vote in 2017 was a crushing defeat: 886 against, 441 for. Shawnea felt the sting personally, believing the company had scared workers into submission. The documentary captured a chilling moment when Chairman Cao Dewang seemed to warn that unionizing could shut the plant down, a threat that hit hard in a town still haunted by GM’s exit. In 2018, Fuyao settled with the National Labor Relations Board, paying $120,000 to three workers, including Shawnea, who claimed they were fired for their union push. The money helped, but it didn’t erase the sense of betrayal.
A Dangerous Workplace
The factory wasn’t just tough—it could be dangerous. Workers like Rob Haerr, who operated heavy machinery, faced daily risks: unguarded equipment, electrical hazards, and chemicals they weren’t trained to handle. In 2016, federal inspectors from OSHA slapped Fuyao with 23 serious safety violations, proposing fines of $226,937. The company negotiated the penalty down to $100,000, but for workers, the fixes felt slow. Rob, who loved his job’s hands-on challenge, still worried about going home in one piece.
Online, workers shared their stories. On Indeed, some praised Fuyao’s benefits or the chance to climb the ranks. Others, like an anonymous line worker, described a “sweatshop” vibe, with favoritism and impossible quotas. Language barriers made it harder—American workers struggled to communicate with Chinese supervisors, and Chinese employees felt isolated in a foreign land. For every success story, there was someone like Jill, exhausted from 12-hour shifts, wondering if the job was worth it.
The Raid That Shook Moraine
On July 26, 2024, Moraine woke to a bombshell. Federal agents—Homeland Security, FBI, IRS—swarmed the Fuyao plant and 27 other sites in Dayton, their SUVs and badges a jarring sight. The raids were part of a criminal investigation into money laundering, possible human smuggling, and labor exploitation. For workers like Dave, it was surreal to see their workplace on the news, helicopters buzzing overhead. Fuyao insisted it wasn’t the main target, pointing to a third-party labor contractor under scrutiny. But the presence of Border Patrol agents fueled rumors of deeper issues, maybe even forced labor.
The community was rattled. On X, people posted about “illegal labor agencies” and wondered how long the problems had festered. Dave, now a shift leader, didn’t know what to believe but felt a pang of disappointment. He’d given years to Fuyao, weathered the long nights and sore backs, only to wonder if the company he trusted was hiding something. In China, some saw the raids as a political jab, a way to smear a successful Chinese firm during tense U.S.-China trade talks. For Moraine, it was simpler: this was their town, their jobs, their lives.
The Heart of Moraine
Fuyao isn’t just a factory—it’s a lifeline. Its $45 million expansion in 2020 brought 350 more jobs, and its glass keeps America’s auto industry moving. People like Rob take pride in that, knowing their work ends up in cars across the country. Local leaders, from JobsOhio to city hall, still cheer Fuyao’s impact, crediting it with putting Moraine back on the map.
But the scandals have left scars. Senator Sherrod Brown, a friend to Ohio workers, called out Fuyao’s labor practices, while Governor Mike DeWine hedged, waiting for the feds to sort out the raid. For folks like Shawnea, the fight’s personal—she wants a workplace where her kids could one day thrive, not just survive. The American Factory documentary showed the world Moraine’s struggles, but it also showed its heart: people like Dave, Jill, and Wong, grinding through tough days because they believe in something bigger.
What’s Next?
As of April 2025, the federal investigation is still unfolding, its details locked behind closed doors. Fuyao’s pushing forward, planning a new plant in South Carolina, but in Moraine, trust is fragile. Workers clock in, furnaces roar, and glass rolls out, but the questions linger: Can Fuyao be the partner Moraine dreamed of? Can it honor the people who make it run?
Fuyao’s story is Moraine’s story—a town that bet on a comeback and got a rollercoaster instead. It’s about Dave’s calloused hands, Shawnea’s courage, and Wong’s quiet sacrifices. It’s about a factory that brought jobs but also pain, hope but also doubt. In the end, Fuyao isn’t just a company—it’s a mirror, reflecting the messy, human struggle to build something lasting in a world that’s always changing.
