Espy said as she took out a pair of scissors, scrubbed them with hand sanitizer and started to cut away a few of his stitches. She wiped away the pus and blood with napkins, tossing them into the street.
C.J. was drunk and needed help getting into the street to go to the bathroom.
A man known as K.D. was moving his tent 50 yards down the sidewalk because he’d gotten into an argument with a neighbor who insulted his pit bull. “Nobody talks down to Dots,” K.D. said. “I’m ready to go off. I’m armed and dangerous.”
A group of young men in the encampment had begun selling off pieces of the public sidewalk, charging each person $20 a week for what they called “lot rent and security.” That had seemed ridiculous until he decided not to pay and then awoke one night to the smell of someone dousing his tent with lighter fuel.