The death of an unhoused woman in Pittsburgh less than 500 feet from a fully occupied shelter, confirmed by the Post-Gazette Editorial Board, is the predictable result of Allegheny County’s delayed and insufficient plan for homeless services during the winter months.
In late December, over a month into frigid weather and during the darkest days of the year, the county is somehow still ramping up its services, adding 32 new beds last week while launching Code Blue daytime warming centers. This is welcome news, but far too late. Human services officials knew this winter was going to be hazardous for the unhoused as far back as June, when the Smithfield shelter and its over 100 beds closed — with no plans to replace it.
Still, the county had time to make preparations for the cold weather, still five months away. But the Department of Human Services released no requests for proposals for winter shelters; made public an inadequate winter plan several weeks behind schedule; and only finalized a rudimentary Code Blue action plan after the Homeless Advisory Board and a Post-Gazette editorial raised the alarm after Thanksgiving.
As winter inevitably approached, the county knew it had far too few beds for everyone who needed shelter. And when winter came, the system was still not ready. Service providers, community leaders and advocates spoke with one accord: People will die.
They were right.
Death
Kebrina Mardis, 30, died in her tent near River Avenue on the North Side sometime between Wednesday, Dec. 13, when she was last seen, and Sunday, Dec. 17, when her body was discovered in her tent. Two weeks earlier, she had said on Facebook that she was expecting a baby.
A member of the Post-Gazette Editorial Board visited the scene on Tuesday. It had been left exactly as it was when police removed the body, in a group of three tents just off the Three Rivers Heritage Trail. For days, dozens of joggers, bikers and commuters unknowingly passed Ms. Mardis’s remains.
Snow had blown in through an open flap, across a sleeping bag and blankets. The pillow and its mattress were discolored with frozen blood. Residents of nearby tents said they could hear rats, which are numerous along the North Shore encampments, coming and going at night. They didn’t know the rodents had chewed through the tent and were feeding on her decomposing body.
A blue, translucent cross hung above the mattress bearing the words, “Discover the treasure of God’s love.”
Ms. Mardis was a petite white woman, but when her remains were discovered, they were first identified as those of a Black man. The conditions had accelerated her decay.
It will likely be weeks before her cause of death can be determined by the medical examiner. Whether it is drugs or violence or exposure, her gruesome fate — including, in a particular way, the fate of her remains — indicts our society. In any civilization worthy of the name, people do not get eaten by rodents.
Alone
Ms. Mardis died almost in sight of the Light of Life Rescue Mission, whose women’s shelter is regularly full, according to vacancy updates sent to service providers. These updates show that most overflow and emergency shelters reach capacity every day, showcasing an overburdened system. The additional beds announced this week will help, but they will not be enough, and they were too late for Ms. Mardis.
While she is known to have used shelters — she logged dozens of nights at Smithfield last year — at this point it’s impossible to know whether Ms. Mardis would have taken shelter last week, or what kind would have been helpful to her. While Light of Life provides proactive outreach to the nearby encampments, it is clear that more county resources are needed to monitor the sheer number of unhoused people who remain outdoors.
Late last week, nighttime temperatures frequently dropped below freezing, but never to the 26-degree threshold for additional Code Blue resources.
Ms. Mardis was known to workers at Light of Life and Smithfield. She also had experience with the corrections system, and suffered from addiction. She had a partner who had just been arrested and incarcerated at the Allegheny County Jail for the very first time. In winter, and with drugs, it is always more dangerous to be alone.
Trauma
Those who camp along River Avenue learned through word of mouth that they slept next to Ms. Mardis’s body. In lives punctuated by horror, this is a unique encounter with the macabre.
While the concept of “trauma” is constantly thrown around when discussing homelessness, this is a stark demonstration of what it looks like: A 30-year-old woman — a neighbor — torn apart by rodents, 500 feet from an institution built to save people like her. And everyone must, somehow, keep going.
Is this what our addicted, our mentally ill and our incarcerated people deserve? To die, alone?
Anyone who provides services to the homeless understands how complicated every individual situation is. Some people, like Ms. Mardis, who providers indicate had been on the streets for seven years, are very hard cases. Some people will remain beyond the reach of governments and charities. Some people will not let themselves be helped.
But that does not void their humanity, and their dignity. That does not excuse us from giving every person every chance — at least to survive one more cold night. That does not mean they are to be handed over to the animals.
Even now, the collapsed tent sits on the banks of the Allegheny River with no one to collect it. Someone has draped a tarp to restore some privacy, and dignity, to the place Kebrina Mardis called home. The place where she died.
First Published: December 21, 2023, 10:30 a.m.
