It’s a story that involves patio cushions, a grocery cart and a lot of 911 calls.
A story that may seem anecdotal, even insignificant, but which illustrates a feeling experienced by more and more Montrealers: helplessness.
This is what happened to Liah, a young mother from the Saint-Henri neighborhood. I agreed to withhold her last name to protect her from potential repercussions.
Liah lives very close to Maison Benoît-Labre (MBL), in the southwest of the island. It is a centre with 36 social housing units for former homeless people, opened since April next to an elementary school. It offers 24-hour services for the homeless and cubicles for hard drug use.
Cohabitation with neighbors and school has been poor since day one1.
So Liah got a nasty surprise when she woke up on Wednesday of last week. The cushions on her patio furniture were gone.
Nothing to shout scandal about, I agree. But nothing reassuring either. Someone entered his backyard, then climbed onto his balcony, on the 1er floor, to steal them. While his little family slept next door.
The first step in her journey: she fills out a police report online. Simple and standard. An officer quickly writes back to her to get additional information.
So far, no worries.
But Liah has the intuition, or the reflex, to walk to the entrance of the MBL, a few steps away. Her doubts are quickly confirmed: her cushions are there, piled up pell-mell in grocery baskets with other objects.
PHOTO TAKEN FROM FACEBOOK
Liah’s patio cushions, piled with other items in grocery baskets at the entrance to Maison Benoît-Labre
This is where everything goes wrong, and not just a little.
The young woman could have gathered up her supplies and gone home immediately, you might say. But here it is: she is afraid. Several MBL users are wandering around the grocery cart. Some in crisis, others with impaired faculties.
She knocked on the door of the MBL to ask for help. An employee told her that the center, although open 24 hours a day, was closed. That the stolen equipment was in an alley belonging to the city. That she should call 911.
Not our problem, in short.
She follows the recommendation and dials 911. On the other end of the line, the dispatcher suggests she retrieve her stolen goods herself. Liah reiterates her feelings of insecurity.
Answer? We’ll send police to you… eventually.
Pugnacious, she calls the Mobile Mediation and Social Intervention Team (ÉMMIS). You know, this group of social workers created by the Plante administration in 2021 exactly to facilitate cohabitation between the homeless and residents.
Forget it. Not our mandate. A rejection launched “stupidly” by an employee of the ÉMMIS, says the citizen.
New strategy: try to reach the foot patrol officers of the Montreal Police Department (SPVM) who patrol his neighborhood by phone. No one on the other end of the line. Voicemail. No one calls back.
SPVM officers show up on the scene, but they came to handle another situation. Their advice to Liah? Yes: call 911.
Which she does, again.
At this point, Liah is truly determined to get her belongings back. More out of principle than for their financial value. She waited for the police to arrive for… four hours. Half a day of work wasted waiting in front of a grocery cart.
Very courteous SPVM officers finally helped her patch up her cushions. And offered her this suggestion: install surveillance cameras in your home. It will be useful for next time.
Liah, like many other MBL neighbors, confirmed to me: she no longer feels safe. Neither in her house nor in her neighborhood.
This is unacceptable in itself. But the worst, she laments, is this impression of being abandoned by all the competent authorities. By the City of Montreal, the Sud-Ouest borough, the SPVM, the ÉMMIS, the Maison Benoît-Labre…
We are told that there are all these resources to solve the problem, but the majority of resources seem to want to do nothing. Everyone is passing the buck, no one is taking it seriously. We often talk about cohabitation and good neighborliness, but it really seems one-sided.
Liah, resident of Saint-Henri
I threw a stick at everyone involved in this little story.
The SPVM confirms that Liah did well not to put her safety at risk and to wait for the police to arrive, without however explaining the precise reasons for this long delay.
ÉMISS director Vincent Morel says that his staff do not act in cases of criminal acts such as theft, but that their practices are also constantly evolving.
The director of the MBL, Andréane Désilets, concedes that Liah could have been better supported. But she also says that her workers cannot replace the police. And that there is no proof that the cushions really belonged to her.
In short, everyone has gone a bit off track. Many citizens would have given up rather than embark on such an obstacle course.
No one denies that the homelessness crisis is massive, with all the consequences it entails. Quebec and Montreal are taking concrete steps to try to better manage it. For example: this new investment in ÉMMIS announced at the beginning of the week.
This deserves to be applauded, but it does not excuse everything.
As long as Montrealers like Liah continue to fall through the cracks, the climate of insecurity in Montreal will increase. As simple as that.
1. Read the column “The chaotic first months of Benoît-Labre”
Read the column “Rise in crime in Montreal: a touch of the Wild West”