Jerry Braudrick Jr. – who prefers just “Junior” – his wife, Rebekah, and their two children, Skyler Torrey, 15, and Michael Young, 13, used to live in “The Big Blue Mess.”
The 30-foot by 50-foot tarp on the hillside at Purple Cliffs was home for the family from May 2021 until La Plata County officials ordered the closure of the homeless camp in September 2022.
Junior recalled waking up with his tent collapsed under the weight of heavy snow, its canopy hovering inches from his face. Shoes, socks and warm layers were mandatory for using the bathroom in winter, Torrey said.
Through it all, Junior kept his job. He worked seven days per week during busy periods.
Torrey stayed on the honor roll and received three awards for his academic achievements.
Then in eighth grade, the lanky teenager would hang out at Escalante Middle School with his younger brother and study – there was limited or no internet at Purple Cliffs.
The family’s housing situation made more of an impact on Young. He was bullied by his peers because, as he said in a matter-of-fact manner, “I smelled bad. I wore dirty clothes.”
But, living at Purple Cliffs, he had no real choice. The toll of existing there was immense.
“That mountainside – before the end – it was either going to cost me my job, my wife or my family,” Junior said.
He used methamphetamine to keep himself awake all night.
“I got bad on it because I had to stay awake, I had to chase the bears off,” he said.
But now that the family has a home, thanks to a federal Section 8 housing voucher obtained with the help of the La Plata County Collaborative Management Program, Junior stopped using meth.
“I don’t miss that life, I really don’t,” he said. “It’s comforting to be here.”
Like the Braudrick family, Aquila Cota was one of the former Purple Cliffs residents to receive a housing voucher. After the closure of the encampment, Cota spent a bitterly cold winter living outdoors until he, too, received a voucher in February, with the assistance of Manna and Housing Solutions for the Southwest, and moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Durango.
The process can be difficult to navigate, and outside advocacy is critical.
“It wouldn’t have been possible without CMP,” Rebekah Braudrick said.
The family had been awarded a Section 8 voucher – a lifetime voucher for very low-income families – in July 2022, but finding somewhere that would accept it was, for nearly a year, an insurmountable challenge.
After the family was kicked out of their two-bedroom apartment in Durango in July 2020, they went to stay with Junior’s mother.
After 6 months, the family moved in with Junior’s uncle. His landlord asked the family to leave too, so they moved into Motel Durango. When they had to leave the motel, they ended up at Purple Cliffs.
When the county shut down Purple Cliffs, officials prioritized finding emergency shelter for families. So the Braudricks moved into the Wapiti Lodge. Although they had received a voucher, the challenge became finding somewhere that would accept it.
While Junior worked and the boys went to school, Rebekah took to combing through rental options.
She has a notebook, nicknamed her “brain,” containing the accumulation of notes from her search for housing, which began when they were still living at Purple Cliffs.
In January 2023, Rebekah came across a listing for a mobile home in Bayfield with a small yard and a built-on addition. The property manager accepted housing vouchers, and by mid-March, the family had moved into their new home.
But such vouchers are few and far between. Although the exact terms and scope can vary, Collaborative Management Program has successfully assisted about nine individuals or families obtain a voucher and find housing in the last 12 months in La Plata County.
Without advocacy, someone can easily spend two years waiting to receive a voucher. Once they do, the expected wait to find housing that will accept the voucher is a minimum of six to nine months.
Housing is a critical step in addressing homelessness, and although it does not solve everything, the transition from unhoused to housed begets a multitude of other changes.
Waking up in an apartment, on a “fancy” bed, with a bathroom adjacent has led Cota to employment. He developed a reputation within the Purple Cliffs community and among the advocates serving Durango’s homeless population as a reliable and hardworking leader, and has spring-boarded off that reputation into several positions with local service providers.
Dressed in a black polo shirt and jeans – a notable upgrade from the tattered winter jacket he wore in February – Cota emerged from a job interview at Manna on Thursday grinning.
“They just offered me a job!” he said.
He had also been hired the same week by Community Compassion Outreach to provide transportation for clients to Manna and around town. He spent much of the winter volunteering at CCO’s warming shelter.
With a stable, peaceful living environment, Cota said he’s better prepared to go to work.
“It’s changed a lot, you know. I don’t feel so grungy no more,” he said. “I don’t worry about where my next meal is gonna come from or how I’m going to pay for it.”
Contrary to the misconception that houseless people don’t work or don’t try to work, Cota said he had sought employment while living at Purple Cliffs. And unlike Junior’s employer, who is understanding about the lack of basic resources available to unhoused people, Cota said his housing status was a problem.
“The clothes you’re wearing are dirty – you can’t change them, you can’t take showers, you can’t do this, you can’t do that,” he said. “People look at you like, ‘Really? You’re actually gonna try?’”
Cota tried his best to appear presentable when he applied for a job at the Humane Society Thrift Store – but to no avail.
“There’s not much you can really do about it, you know; just hope for the best,” he said in an optimistic tone that seems to color everything he says. “I didn't get upset, I bide my time, I got an apartment and the next thing you know, boom: job offers here and there.”
Cota said a third of his income will go toward his rent.
The Braudricks’ younger son, Young, did not want to go to school because of the bullying he experienced. That changed as soon as they moved.
“I didn’t smell bad or look dirty anymore,” he said.
Although housing can open up new opportunities, once-unhoused people say the transition comes with its share of challenges. Boredom, for example, is a new concept with which Junior and Cota must contend.
Diana Ford, the program coordinator at CMP, said homelessness often puts people in survival mode.
“When we are in states of trauma, and in this case, literally survival mode, that’s all our brains can focus on,” she said.
Rebekah has noticed her mood shift after moving.
“We’re not agitated at everybody,” she said.
Junior’s sleep deprivation, a product of drug use and stress, made work difficult.
“I can actually pay attention,” he said.
Although the comforts of home – a television, Cota’s prized library of mystery novels, Rebekah’s house plants – and the absence of the anxieties and chaos that pervaded Purple Cliffs make working and school easier, Ford warns that housing alone is not enough.
“It takes time, it takes human resources and financial resource to help people learn how to live differently,” she said.
Anecdotally, she said clients have told her they instinctively reach for a flashlight when going to the bathroom at night, forgetting the light switch at their fingertips. Parents sometimes notice that their children develop behavioral issues. Ford says this is a result of the child having a capacity to address and process their own emotions now that the brain is no longer in survival mode.
“I think the biggest misconception ... is that we can just say, ‘Hey, here’s housing,’ and expect that that’s the solution, that things are solved,” she said.
Despite its challenges, life is better for the Braudrick family.
“We can do whatever we want and be weird however we feel,” Rebekah said, laughing alongside her kids.
rschafir@durangoherald.com
