Nowhere Left to Go

Story Highlights:

  • Interview with a homeless veteran
  • Stories from his service

As I was finishing up filming for my video project at Mitchell Park, a man named Thomas “Tommy” Fischer approached me to ask what I was doing. The moment I told him the topic of my video, he sat down in front of the camera and started talking. “You are going to want to hear this story,” said Fischer.

I barely had a chance to pull out paper for notes before he went off on a rant about his life since last week. I was curious by his eagerness to talk to me, due to my usual regimen of having to seek someone out and then wait for them to open up.

A Cascade of Misfortune
Immediately, I could tell that something was not quite right with Fischer. Large scabs covered the right side of his face, his knuckles were lacerated and he winced whenever he shifted his body. There was a very tangible feeling of anger in him.

"I'm tired. There has been enough violence in my life to last me until I am 100," said Fischer

“I’m tired. There has been enough violence in my life to last me until I am 100,” said Fischer

After a couple shaky sentences, he managed to piece together everything. Fischer lost his car, his home and his job all within the first week of March. On top of that, he was hit by a drunk driver on March 6th and ended up with broken ribs, a concussion and the visible wounds on his face and knuckles. “They had to pull me out from underneath the carriage of the car,” said Fischer.

A Long History of Service
He paused while I waited for him to collect his thoughts and start from the beginning. Fischer grew up in Marin County during the 1950’s before being shipped off to Vietnam at the age of 17. He enlisted in the Marines in 1971 and spent most of the next three decades serving with the Force Reconnaissance.

Fischer shared one of the most traumatic stories from his service. He was stationed in Lebanon during the fall of 1983, when a bomb was dropped on the barracks where his best friend also happened to be. “I was digging through the rubble to look for him when I found part of his leg. The only way I knew it was him was because of his dog tags,” said Fischer.

After being discharged from the Marines in 1998, his life came unglued. He spent years bouncing in and out of county jails, unsure of his purpose in life. “Essentially, I was broken,” said Fischer.

The Plight of Veterans
Fischer had trouble readjusting to society and was eventually diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. On top of that, all the events of the past week only made matters worse. “The PTSD comes back when I drink, so I do not anymore. But with a couple more nights on the street, it is guaranteed to come back,” said Fischer.

This is not the first time he has been on the streets. After suggesting a visit to the Prado Day Center or the Maxine Lewis Shelter, Fischer just shook his head and said he was not allowed back there. “Anyway, after 30 days, I am homeless again. What is the point if they do not set you up?” said Fischer, “These programs essentially make people become codependent.”

And that is the problem that more than two thousand people face every day in the San Luis Obispo County. It is a never-ending cycle that viciously consumes lives, leaving little to nothing behind untouched. For some, it takes years and years of vigilance and discipline to claw themselves out of poverty. However for others such as Fischer, they see no point.

“I do not have family or friends and there is no one left that cares. I never married and never had any kids. If I shot myself tonight, there would be no one at my funeral. So if they ever found me, they would have to cremate me and throw me in the ocean with all the others,” said Fischer.

A Lonely Experience
The current stigma attached to homelessness is unfair for those who are affected by it every day. In addition to the physical problems that homelessness creates, there is an abundance of unseen psychological problems that plague homeless people. The basic respect and human interaction that we take for granted everyday is something that very rarely occurs to homeless people, which in turn wears down their own patience and kindness.

Over the three months working on this project, homelessness has been described to me time and time again as the loneliest experience a human could ever endure. “I do not understand how it got this bad. I am so alone right now and it hurts really bad inside,” said Fischer, “but I will keep fighting on for as long as I can.”

Don’t talk about it, be about it

Story Highlights:

  • Perspective from a transient group of homeless people
  • Input from store owners in the community

There are two sides to every story, and the homelessness situation in San Luis Obispo is no exception. After growing up in the suburbs surrounded by negative feelings toward the homeless population, I spent the past couple of weeks hearing the stories and perspectives from some of these transient individuals.

Just Passing Through
Patrick, Tori and Ernesto spent a warm Tuesday morning on Higuera Street, trying to gather enough funds to hitch out of town. While they waited, each of them told me about their experiences.

Patrick (Left), Tori (Middle), Ernesto (Right) and Rico the dog all met while on a train ride in Tucson. In addition to two other members of their group, Steve-o and Emily (not pictured), they travel and share everything together.

Patrick (Left), Tori (Middle), Ernesto (Right) and Rico the dog all met while on a train ride in Tucson. In addition to two other members of their group, Steve-o and Emily (not pictured), they travel and share everything together.

Patrick is a 24 year old from Miami, Florida. Because he spends 75% of his time traveling alone, he has been to over forty-five states and even some neighboring countries. He earned his associate’s degree in Orlando at a community college, and tried to pursue a degree in film before dropping out. In regards to homelessness in San Luis Obispo, Patrick said the amount of aggression between the homeless and the police is about average compared to other cities.

“It depends on the amount of interaction. The police treat us badly, but they are people also. Cops are educated and smart, so it is all a matter of interaction. I am a citizen at the end of the day and I try to act accordingly.”

Originally from Tucson, Arizona, Tori is the youngest of the group. She has been in and out of jail five times since she was 15, and blames the bad reputation that homelessness gets.“There are too many people in this lifestyle. It ruins it for the rest of us who are struggling to make ends meet. Now, homeless people are actually targeted by police officers,” said Tori.

She recalls a time when she was approached by a police officer. “I was told I was intoxicated, even when I was completely sober,” said Tori. When she tried to talk with the police officer, he simply flipped all one hundred pounds of her onto her front and arrested her for resistance. She was refused a Breathalyzer and was not read her Miranda Rights before being unfairly arrested. When she reached the police station, another officer took one look at her and asked, “You’re drunk?”

Ernesto, a 26-year-old from Tennessee, went to college at Cleveland State University. He estimates he has been in and out of jail over 30 times, not including the times he has been arrested and then released immediately afterwards. Ernesto said that the trick to being let go is to make sure he is not alone when arrested. “If you have at least one witness, there is more credibility,” said Ernesto.

Ernesto and Tori have known each other for almost three months. After meeting on the road, they have stuck together ever since.

Ernesto and Tori have known each other for almost three months. After meeting on the road, they have stuck together ever since.

Like Anybody Else
During my time with them, hardly any one stopped to give them money. “We are just people. Most of society does not pay attention to us, but the ones that do are really nice to us,” said Tori. I quickly learned that they stay together no matter what, even if that means it is more difficult to get help.

“It’s different between a group. When we are by ourselves, we tend to get more money. Right now we need supplies,” said Patrick.

Ernesto, Patrick, Tori, Emily and Steve-o have traveled cross-country together and are currently headed to Oakland where they hope to settle down with some friends.

Community Interactions
On the other side of the spectrum, many downtown business owners are unhappy with the rise of homelessness in the area. “My main concern with homelessness in San Luis Obispo is how so few are actually from here. Many migrate here because of the infrastructure,” said Jack McKeen, a downtown store employee, “and every so often there are spurts of new people that show up. Some of them are genuinely good people, but it is more important to take care of our own first.”

The major day-to-day problems that many employees face with the homeless in downtown include stealing and aggressive panhandling. “They get in customer’s faces, and it hurts business,” said Carlos Macias, another downtown store employee.

McKeen and Macias used to spend their lunch hours outside near the creek in downtown, before the interactions with the homeless made them more cautious. “I’ve been offered drugs and even overheard conversations about drug exchanges,” said Macias.

According to Macias, many homeless individuals that he has interacted with show signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) or other mental disabilities.

“Most of them are benign, but there are cases of genuine concern that ruin it for other homeless individuals,” said Macias.

Cause for Alarm
McKeen and Macias recalled a time when they found a homeless man passed out in the bushes near their building. “We were not sure if he was alive or not,” said McKeen.

In other occasions, Macias has gone out of his way to give a couple clothing items to a homeless man. “If I can help him out, I will, but I do not feel bad when they choose this lifestyle,” said Macias.

According to McKeen, homelessness has become a major social issue for the area. In addition to the city council meetings attended by both business owners and homeless individuals themselves, there is also a new specialized group of police officers that deal with the homeless specifically. “When I was a kid, there were no homeless people in San Luis Obispo,” said McKeen. Today, police are inclined to be prejudice through the insistence of business owners and influx of homeless people.

Now more than ever, the interactions between the homeless, the community and the San Luis Obispo Police Department are struggling to stay balanced.