James (not real name) and his younger brother Bud preferred drinking in the shade on a hot day.  Their friends Wayne and Keith and other homeless people sometimes joined them.

The old police station at 710 S 9^th still has the radio tower.  The base is about twenty feet by twenty feet and the tower is several hundred feet tall.  The owner of the building is a collector of antiques.  Some would say he is a hoarder.  The building is packed.  He gave up trying to run the homeless off his property and they find the base of the tower to be an inviting meeting place.  It is handy because the foliage around the building offers some shelter when sleeping outside. 

James and Bud kept their sleeping bags at that old building.  James was 59 and Bud was 57 at the time of this story.

It was late summer of 2020.  James’s account is the only telling of the whole story.  There is an ambulance report and a medical examiner’s report – but those reports only address the outcomes. 

It was the first of the month and Bud had picked up his medication at the Northwest Health Pharmacy.  Normally he would give James the medication and James would insure proper daily dosage – well – as much as their homeless lifestyle would allow.  Bud had his medication and neglected to tell James.  Normally, as James tells the story, Bud would take three Seroquel every night before bed.  On this day Bud took three of his Seroquel when he picked up the drugs at the pharmacy.  Who knows, did he forget the day before?  Had he run out?  Was he having a mental health episode and felt he needed the boost?  We do not know.

Wayne had received his disability check and showed up at the tower with two fifths of vodka.  CAV, cheap ass vodka.  James balked for he preferred whiskey, “If I’m going to drink it’s going to be whiskey!”  James would take a sip of the vodka if the bottle was passed around.  They lit a joint and commenced their discussion on the virtues of a good day with friends.  Vodka or whiskey, marijuana was always a compliment.

Bud and Wayne drank all of one fifth and about half of the other fifth when James intervened.  He took the half fifth and told them they had enough.  Bud and Wayne were so drunk and high that they submitted to James’s declaration.  Bud removed himself from the tower and went around the building to his sleeping bag.  Evening approached.  He slept for a while before he woke up and stormed back to the tower, “Give me that bottle!” he shouted at James as he grabbed the bottle.  James let it go.  He knew Bud was volatile and was worse when he was drinking. 

Bud returned to his sleeping bag with the bottle.  He took three more Seroquel and drank most of the rest of the bottle.  James later laid down in his sleeping bag next to Bud.  They slept.  At about 2:30 AM James awakened.  He like to go to the Imperial Gas Station in the night where he could charge his telephone.  James always had a book to read and he would sit under a light at the closed gas station and read.  He preferred the middle of the night when no one was around. 

He read and charged his phone for three hours and then went back to the old police station.  The vodka bottle was lying beside Bud and it had a drink or two left.  James took it and laid back down to find more sleep.  At about 6:30 AM James got up and checked the tower to see if anyone was around.  He went back to Bud and saw ants crawling out of Bud’s mouth.  He touched Bud and found him cold.  James was staggered and sat down for a moment before he collected himself and called 911. 

The ambulance arrived quickly.  Paramedics tried to revive Bud.  The police arrived, then other authority figures.  James thought it was about an hour before they took Bud away.

James has checked into the Haven.  He is attempting to stabilize from malnutrition, poor sleep patterns, and lack of his regular medications.  He told me this story this morning.  By chance, I knew James and Bud in the past.

The Haven is a permanent housing facility for the chronically homeless.