SHELTER

Beasley and I walked around the corner of the shelter, where a large number of people lived on the sides of the street bordering the building. A group of five people sat along the fence outside on Arkins Court. When asked if anyone would like to participate in the interviews, they roundly but kindly declined. As I turned to walk away and continued tailing Beasley like an intern with a lunch order, one of them asked, “Are you here to talk about the death?”

“The death?” I asked.

“Yeah, he died right behind you.” One of them told me.

I turned and saw a small headstone made of rocks, cardboard, candles, and plastic crosses on the other side of the road.

The group of people along the fence told me about Austin and the tragic end of his life. Austin lived in a tent on the west side of Arkins Court near its intersection with 29^th Street. On Wednesday, April 10, 2024, he allegedly took a freebase dose of fentanyl as a work truck was driving south on Arkins Court. Austin stood near the edge of the road. As the truck grew closer, the effects of the fentanyl caused him to lose balance and stumble. In a moment of horrifically synchronized timing, Austin lost his balance completely and fell head-first under the truck’s rear axle. He died instantly. All of the people sitting along the fence who told me this story claimed to have witnessed this firsthand.  

“What happened afterward?” I asked.

“Someone came out here with a pressure washer and cleaned him up.” One of them explained.  

Later that day, after all the interviews were complete, I gave Beasley a ride home. We talked about Austin during our drive. Beasley told me he believed in predestination and that it was hard to wrap his head around the possibility that Austin’s death was somehow inevitably etched into his destiny. On most topics, I find myself in agreeance with Beasley, but not this one. I don’t necessarily believe in anything being pre-destined. And I certainly don’t believe that anyone is put on this earth to smoke fentanyl and get killed by a truck in that sequential order. I thought there had to be something more.

So, the next day, I went back to the shelter alone.

Denver PD arrived at the same time I did. And their area of operation was precisely where I needed to report. I decided it was better to allow them to do their jobs and see what I could learn from a distance.  

Another group of people, spending their time along another nearby fence that separates the shelter on one side of 29^th Street from an active construction zone, told me to check down by the river to find someone who may have seen Austin’s death.

My search along the river was fruitless. Most people I encountered were either unwilling to speak to me or too heavily intoxicated to do so if they wanted. But as I was taking the photo below, I heard a voice from atop the hill.

“If I was a photographer, there are probably a thousand other things I could think to take pictures of than this shit!” A man hauling his belongings from the encampment being cleared by police yelled down to me.

I explained to him I was there looking for information about Austin’s death, and I acknowledged that I must have looked like a creep taking photos of homeless people. Anthony was disarmed by my explanation and agreed to speak with me. He was, by his own admission, only a few feet away when Austin was killed.

Anthony refused to have his picture taken, but his friend Thomas offered his services as a model below.

“I heard every bone in his body crack, and I saw the top of his head pop off,” Anthony explained. “I’ve been out here for a long time, and that was the worst shit I’ve ever seen.”  

Anthony said that he and others along the road tried to flag down the truck driver, but their efforts were in vain. He also shared a new detail about the story. Austin was not run over by a half-ton or full-ton work truck. He was crushed under the back wheels of a fully loaded semi-truck and trailer.

I met others that day who shared the same story.

Another resident of the shelter, Tim, told me Austin was just one of many homeless people doomed to be forgotten by the city of Denver.

I did not have the slightest idea as to what Austin looked like, but somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I couldn’t stop thinking about his death. I couldn’t stop thinking about the truck that ran him over and what it could have been carrying to that construction site. What was being hauled that resulted in a man being killed in a freak accident?   

Something about the bustling construction site being that close to the homeless shelter just seemed strange. This was no small operation. This was a full-scale commercial project. What could they possibly be building across the street from the shelter?

And who would’ve thought? It figures, though, that the truck that ran over and killed Austin was hauling building materials for a high-end apartment complex called the Arkins Promenade.

Austin’s demise was the ironic result of the current housing crisis in Denver.

The irony of a semi-truck filled with building materials for a high-end apartment complex being erected across the street from a dilapidated homeless shelter is beyond the wildest imagination.  

The irony of a man like Joseph Beasley making it his life mission to help others out of homelessness only to be hindered by a lack of funding is infuriating. He is being cast under the shadow of a 374-unit apartment complex that will tower over the shelter he is trying to empty.

The irony in the Arkins Promenade being scheduled to be completed and ready for inhabitants by January 2025, but there being no current plans to restore, refurbish, or expand the Salvation Army Crossroads Resource Center in any capacity is unnerving.

None other than those who have directly experienced homelessness possess a true understanding of the hardships of a life without shelter.    

Homelessness is not in and of itself a singular issue with one solution but rather a byproduct of several societal issues begetting scores of potential resolutions. Drug addiction, untreated mental health issues, and a housing market that is basically unattainable to those beneath the poverty line are the leading issues. But even those obvious causes behind a growing number of unhoused people are just the very tip of a blade with many edges.