Never Again – 15

 

"Thought you were rid of me, didn't you," Joseph said with a smile when Beth looked up at him in surprise.

"I would certainly hope not." She waved the contract at him. "I didn't… I wasn't certain you really meant what you said." Jumping up, she crossed her office to hug him. "Thank you!"

"You're most welcome and you know it."

"So what brings you back already? Did you realize you can't live without us?"

"If I said yes would you believe me?" When she shook her head, he laughed. "You're right. I can on the day-to-day level. But I need to do some research and I thought I'd start by picking Jennifer's brain, if she's around."

"I think she's down the hall in the Features office. What are you looking for?"

"She did a story six months ago, if I'm remembering right, about the homeless problem in the city."

"She did." Beth smiled knowingly. "Are you taking my words to heart about finding some wrong to right?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps. Time will tell."

"Then go talk to her. I'm sure she's got all her research stashed somewhere."

Joseph found out a few minutes later 'somewhere' turned out to be a huge file stored on her computer. Once he explained why he wanted to see it, Jennifer offered to send it to him so he could read it at his leisure at home. He thanked her, asking for a copy of her article as well, which she immediately attached to the email.

"I think you're going to be shocked at the severity of the problem," she told him. "New Orleans has the second highest rate of homeless people in the nation."

"Seriously?"

She nodded. "Very seriously I'm afraid. You don't notice it here as much as in some cities because a great many of the people live in abandoned buildings, and there are still too many of those even with the rebuilding since Katrina."

"I honestly had no idea," he replied, shaking his head.

"Most people don't. They only see the problem when there's a possibility it could impact the tourist trade."

Joseph's mouth tightened. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Because you know how people are," she told him, her voice filled with disgust as she added, "If it hits them in the pocketbook, then they pay attention."

"Too true, and it's always been that way. Well, I should leave you to whatever you were doing. Thank you for your help."

"Anytime, Joe, and if you have any questions once you've read everything, call me. If I don't have the answers I probably can point you to someone who does."

* * * *

Two days later Joseph had read every bit of the information in Jennifer's files several times over. While the statistics appalled him, it was the interviews she'd done with the homeless that struck home—with men and women who had lost jobs and families because of the current economic situation—with kids who had been thrown away because they didn't conform to their parent's views on how they should act—with veterans returning home from their tours of duty to find the system had betrayed them, especially those who suffered from PTSD. That disorder was just barely beginning to be recognized as a real problem by the VA. Some of the men suffering from it had lost their families who couldn't cope with the men's symptoms, and their jobs. Those men ended up on the streets, resorting to alcohol and drugs to try to relieve their stress.

Some of the homeless had migrated down from the northern states, thinking at least in the warmer climate things might be easier because sleeping on the streets might not be as deadly come winter.

According to one group trying to help the homeless as best they could, sixty percent suffered from mental illness and twenty-five percent of those had some sort of developmental disability. On any given night, five thousand people slept unsheltered—and that was just in New Orleans.

There has to be something that can be done to help them. Joseph closed the file yet again, staring up at the ornate ceiling of his study. He shook his head in disgust. Look at me. One man, living in a home large enough to easily house a family of five, while hundreds, thousands, have only the roof of a derelict building to keep off the rain and sun. Something has to be done. I have to do something. No matter how small the effect, at least I can do something.

Opening his phone, he called Jennifer. When she answered he said, "Put me in contact with someone who knows about the needs of the homeless. Someone who cares."

She was silent for a moment and he wondered if she knew it was him. Then she said, "I know the perfect man, Joe. Let me get in touch with him and if he's willing, I'll set up an appointment."