Deadline

By Lilly St. Angelo

Published Nov. 9, 2021 in the Burlington Free Press

On the morning of Oct. 26, Elijah Sigmon climbed out of the cab of a boarded up camper at the Sears Lane encampment in Burlington where he had spent the night. The rain poured down on the windshield spray-painted with a summery Vermont scene of green mountains under a big yellow sun and clouds. 

Sigmon threw his backpacks, duffel and sleeping bag into a wagon as the rain soaked everything. He knew it was time to go.

It was eviction day.

Since last winter, Sigmon had been living in the encampment set up by unhoused people on city owned land. The property was sandwiched between a residential subdivision to the west, a large parking lot to the north and businesses to the south and east.

Some near-by residents and business owners saw the camp as dangerous, unsanitary and a fire hazard.

As of last year's Chittenden County Homeless Alliance "point in time" count, there are approximately 690 households experiencing homelessness in the county, more than half of Vermont's total homeless population. Homelessness more than doubled from 2019 to 2020 according to the county alliance's count.

The city has made it a goal to end homelessness, but has yet to provide permanent solutions, including for former Sears Lane residents.

Starting in July, life began to change for those experiencing homelessness in Vermont. The state, which had provided motel vouchers for people under a certain income level when the pandemic hit, stopped the voucher program for everyone but families with children, those over 60 and people who were pregnant or disabled. Motel rooms were offered to this subgroup through the end of the year.

The Sears Lane camp, where un-housed people had lived for at least four years, became a city priority this fall. The city asked non-profits that offer social services to people experiencing homelessness to apply for the position of managing the Sears Lane camp in September. No organization applied.

Then on Oct. 13, police raided the camp for drugs and arrested a resident. Later that day, another resident allegedly pointed what turned out to be a pellet gun at first responders called to the camp for an emergency. 

The next day, Weinberger called the camp "untenable and unacceptable" and said the city would evict the more than 20 people without housing who called the Sears Lane  camp home.

Sigmon, 27, came to live at the Sears Lane Camp last winter after living in a tent for much of 2020. When he was living in a tent, he would go to Sears Lane to use the tools stockpiled there to work on his bike or build something out of "junk" he found around town. Eventually, he was gifted a structure after a women who lived at the camp left to get treatment.

"This place really saved me," Sigmon said. "I just haven't been happy, I was lost."

Originally from North Carolina, Sigmon got a job in Vermont with the Forest Service in 2019, cutting down trees for mountain bike trails and forest management in the Rutland area. He and his crew would camp in the woods for months while they did their work and come back into civilization for a week from time to time.

They went into town one week in the spring of 2020 for a break and the forest service said they didn’t need him anymore. The pandemic hit around the same time and since then he has been without a house.

Sigmon is quick to correct someone who characterizes him as homeless. He doesn't like the term. Home isn’t one structure to him — it’s family and a place to rest his head. He had those things at Sears Lane; it wasn’t like living on the streets. He’d done that. 

When he lived on the streets, loneliness was Sigmon's biggest battle. He could be on Church Street, bumping shoulders with hundreds of people and feel completely alone. In the camp, the camaraderie saved him. Everyone was just a yell away.

“People became friends, and friends became family," he said. "It’s kept me going really.”

Living on Sears Lane wasn't easy. Sigmon remembered holding down tents in strong storms and dealing with flooding without help from authorities. But he liked how every day was different. Life in the camp meant freedom from a world of structure and social norms where he didn't feel like he belonged. 

Sigmon said he struggles with manic depressive disorder, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and is on the autism spectrum. He gets bored easily which made school difficult and makes holding a job just as difficult, so he considers himself an independent contractor. When he needed money, he picked up jobs around town.

In the camp, Sigmon fixed things for people and knew where every tool was, despite the chaotic piles of bikes, car parts and other things that people dumped there.

“If you asked me for a green handled screw driver with a freakin' rainbow colored tip, I could find it within 30 seconds," he said. "I know where everything is.”

Everyone in the camp had their own issues, Sigmon said, but he resisted the stereotype that people without homes were the only ones taking drugs and struggling with mental health. He pointed at the suburban neighborhood across from the camp. Everyone over there has the same issues, he said. Drugs, fighting, yelling — we got it, they got it. The freedom he desired, however, was not something he saw within a white picket fence.

“I have nothing, but I guarantee I’m happier than most people out there," he said.

The arrest that sparked the eviction order suddenly drew a lot of attention to Sears Lane. But the people who rallied around the camp, bringing food and advocating for the residents, left a bad taste in Sigmon's mouth. 

The protesters, he said, were not at the camp a month ago. It seemed like a show to him, even though he thought some of them had good intentions.

One of the camp residents arrested before the announcement of the eviction was Sigmon's "street dad." Sigmon attributed the arrests to small-mindedness and fear. He also felt like the city was treating him and the other residents like children, not adults.

"If I was the mayor, I would smoke a blunt, come down here and ask what we want," he said.

On Oct. 25, the day before the eviction deadline, Sigmon wasn't sure where he was going the next day. He was considering the Champlain Valley Office of Economic Opportunity's offer of a hotel room for a month. The organization was also going to help him get a phone to get back in touch with family and find work.

Instead of the eviction, his mind that day was focused on where he was going to get some milk to go along with a family-sized box of Honey Bunches of Oats a friend had just given him. He was tired from a weekend with little sleep and wandering around in circles.

On Friday, Oct. 22, while the city was reportedly cleaning up trash at the camp, Sigmon said a bulldozer scooped up his structure while he was at a friend's a hundred yards away. He lost nearly all his possessions, including his only photos of his nearly 2-year-old son River. It was all gone.

"Pretty much everyone here knows me so I feel like if they would have asked 'hey, does anyone live in this building?' you know, 'is this is someone's home?' they would have definitely said yes," Sigmon said. “They really just threw away my life."

Now everything he owns fits in a wagon.

The hotel room would be nice after the rainy, cold weather, he said. Sigmon knew, though, that after a month, housing would be a question all over again. He would have to move his things again, find community again and start over again.

"It's just starting over again and again and again," he said, "and I'm just tired of the again part."