Hypothermia death exposes hole in Fairbanks' homeless care

The case of a homeless man who froze todeath in Alaska's second-largest city of Fairbanks has exposed ahole in the safety net of care provided to a vulnerable populationin one of the coldest places in the country.

The city has no low-barrier shelter to provide help and a warmplace to stay on an unconditional basis.

The body of Charles Ahkiviana, 55, was discovered frozen in asnowbank near a busy department store, the Anchorage Daily Newsreported.

The day his body was found, two days before Christmas, it was 35 C and, at onepoint, the wind chill was47 C. Ahkiviana died of hypothermia, Alaska State Troopers said.

Among U.S. cities with 25,000 or more people, Fairbanks with apopulation of about 32,500 is the coldest in the nation, said RickThoman, a climate expert at the International Arctic ResearchCenter.

Ahkiviana's death was a moment for community reflection, and for"fury and shame," Jennifer Jolis, the former director of a soupkitchen, wrote in the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner.

It's estimated there are up to 100 people who are homeless inFairbanks, where activists say a caring, creative community helpsthose in need.

However, the city lacks a low-barrier emergency shelter, a placethat consistently and unconditionally offers an open door and a warmcot. That leaves those who are homeless to walk the streets atnight, crowd into motel rooms 10 at a time and sleep in abandonedhouses, cars or even dig snow caves.

The Fairbanks Rescue Mission is the largest provider of emergencyshelter in Fairbanks. It can house up to 200 people in an emergency,and about 90 people, including women and families with children,were there on a recent night, said John Coghill, a former statelawmaker who runs the day-to-day operations at the mission.

However, the mission requires that a person pass a breathalyzertest and submit to a urinalysis for drugs to enter, leaving some tosay it's not sheltering the people who need help the most.

The mission's clients are expected to move through a structuredprogram toward self-sufficiency.

"If you're willing to help yourself, we're willing to helpyou," said Pete Kelly, the executive director and another former
state lawmaker.

The rules are necessary because the shelter needs to be anorderly, secure place, especially for people newly in recovery.

The mission can't help everyone, Kelly and Coghill said.

"We have been criticized because there's a level of mentalillness that we just can't take care of," Kelly said.

Advocates say the mission does important work, but it shouldn'tbe the only option and a low-barrier shelter is needed. In
Anchorage, the city-owned Sullivan Arena has been turned into such afacility.

"I really wish that we had something like that here," saidLynda Purvis, a case manager with the Tanana Chiefs Conference. Theconsortium of 42 Athabascan tribes in Interior Alaska includes providing health and social service needs fortribal members among its responsibilities. "Somewhere you could throw cots down, give yousomething warm to drink and just get out of the cold."

About 100 people showed up for apricot oatmeal one recent morningat the Stone Soup Cafe, a grassroots soup kitchen in Fairbanks.Besides oatmeal, lentil stew and pork chops were available for take-out.

The philosophy of The Bread Line, which operates Stone Soup Cafe,is to offer a come-as-you-are place, with minimal rules. It alsooffers a place to be indoors for the two hours every morning it'sopen.

Ahkiviana's death may have momentarily raised communityconsciousness about the lack of shelter, but Matt Davis, a longtimecook at the Stone Soup Cafe, wondered if it would last long enoughfor action.

He said concerns with the adequacy of shelter are brought tolocal governments. "And every time we do, it's, 'Well, we have arescue mission,"' he said.

Kenneth Cooper said he's no longer welcome at the mission and attimes will stay with friends. He doesn't like to stay more than anight at a time, however.

During the coldest weather, he will sometimes make a shelter byburrowing into a snowbank, just big enough for himself. He runs aPVC pipe through the snow to create a vent and burns a candle forheat. Other times, he will nurse a cup of coffee at the city's onlydiner open all night.

Brynn Butler, the city's housing director who was once homelessherself, senses there's momentum for change. She doesn't seeFairbanks opening a low-barrier shelter like Anchorage but said theycould develop a cold-weather plan that might allow it to activateemergency shelters in extreme weather.

If a funding source could be secured, a site located and workershired, she says it could become a reality, maybe by next winter.

"That's my hope," she said.