Skip to content

Sechelt crime: Tent city residents say not every one is a thief

Many Sechelt residents say their stolen goods inevitably end up in the tent city on Hightide Avenue.

Last week, we heard concerns from residents about what they say is an increase in crime. Part two of this series is dedicated to hearing from residents of the tent city on Hightide Avenue. In the following weeks, you’ll also hear from the district’s decision makers and, finally, explore some possible solutions.

It’s a bright, sunny Thursday morning and the Sechelt RCMP, district bylaw enforcement officers and clean-up crews are just wrapping up one of their twice-weekly visits to what’s become known as “tent city,” an ad-hoc community on Hightide Avenue made up of “unhoused” residents, as they’ve recently been dubbed.

As RCMP Cpl. Karen Whitby explains, Tuesday visits are organized to touch base with the residents to remind them about Thursday, which is when the actual clean up takes place — anything not neatly tucked away inside or beside a tent is gathered up by the work crew, which uses a small backhoe to pick up any larger piles of garbage. 

As part two of this series examining what many Sechelt residents are calling an unprecedented rise in crime, the Coast Reporter joined Whitby for a weekly cleanup session but stayed after the crews and police left in order to speak to more homeless residents.

The tent city is located across the road from Hightide Modular Housing, which offers transitional housing for participants with “directed goals,” a program allowing them to liaise with community resources, including health and social services, and the Sechelt Shelter, the only year-round homeless shelter on the lower Sunshine Coast. The tent is made up of residents living in tents who are either waiting for a bed to become available in Hightide, those who have no desire to live in structured housing, or those who did live in at Hightide or the shelter, but were asked to leave. There was no response to an interview request from RainCity Housing and Support Society, which manages the shelter.

Everybody has a ‘different story’

“Is that a wedding band?”

In response to the question, Paul, who asked that his last name not be used, begins to twirl the silver band around his finger.

“I lost my wife on the 26th of December,” Paul says, wiping away a tear. “And, it’s been tough, really tough.”

He explains it was decided that his wife was another victim of the overdose crisis and toxic illegal drug supply in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, but he’s not so sure about that.

“There's a lot of suspicious stuff going on down there now,” says Paul who at the time, lived with his wife in the DTES.

After her death, Paul moved to the Sunshine Coast to be closer to family. Due to a years-old back injury while working construction, which led to an opioid addiction, he’s not able to work full time so makes ends meet by collecting cans and bottles and taking odd jobs. Paul is also a product of B.C.’s foster-care program, which saw him bounced around from home to home and abused as a child after his mother abandoned him and his brothers and sister.

Rising above his rough childhood, Paul says he finished school and found a high-paying job that saw him building houses across B.C. and then Japan. He says it was a combination of making “too much money” and then getting injured that caused his life to spiral into drug dependency. At age 55, Paul feels lucky he has a bed to sleep in at Hightide.

In response to his wife’s death, Paul is handling his grief through writing music, poems and in his journal.

“But most of it gets stolen,” he says, shrugging his shoulders in apparent apathy.

According to many Sechelt residents, Paul’s missing writing would be just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to stolen goods and their connection to both Hightide and tent city. When asked about the fact many fingers are pointing to the area as a hot spot for stolen goods, he agrees.

“It’s bad,” says Paul.

And, "Kevin" agrees, but adds not everyone living in the tent city is a thief.

“I don't like being judged based on their ignorance,” says Kevin. “We're not all like that. Each of us has a different story. But I’ve been spit on, called every name in the book and beaten up because I can’t afford a place to live.”

Life wasn’t always like this for Kevin, who was once happily married and moved to the Sunshine Coast with his wife 12 years ago. After the couple separated, Kevin was living on his own but says he was illegally evicted more than three years ago.

“I'm not here because of drugs or other things,” says Kevin. “I live on a disability pension because I received a head injury at work many years ago. And on my pension, I can't even afford a walk-in closet.”

An artist, Kevin’s sidewalk space is painted, includes a tiny, one-pot garden and is surrounded by sculptures. The hallmark of his tiny space is a large piece of driftwood, which makes a natural bench — a piece that would likely fetch a hefty price in one of the Coast’s many art galleries.

Kevin says but his collection of clothing, art and “things” was beyond the two-bag limit allowed and he refused to give them up. Like Paul, Kevin says it’s tough to own anything of value while living in a tent. He adds his choice of location near the end of the tent city is strategic. 

Kevin’s mom lives just down the road and for a while he was able to store his belongings in a grey van in front of her place, but the windows were smashed in and everything he owned was stolen. At the time of the Coast Reporter’s visit, bylaw officers were having Kevin sign the ownership of the vehicle over to the district so they could tow it away from where it had been parked on Wharf Avenue.

“And if I leave here,” he says, pointing to his shelter. “More stuff gets stolen. I’ve literally given some of them the shirt off my back before but I get stuff stolen every day.”

Kevin says he often acts as a liaison between residents who show up looking for their stolen goods and the person in possession of them. He adds he recently helped a man who had two crossbows and his father’s knife stolen.

“He recognized them and I got them back for him,” he says. “It happens a lot with bikes too.”

Love thy neighbour?

Not even a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire can keep thieves from breaking into the RONA Home Builders location on Wharf Avenue.

Walking around the perimeter of the lot, manager Larry Bergh shows examples of where the heavy chain had been sliced through and then repaired.

“We used to keep all our lawnmowers and barbecues outside, but now we have to bring them all in all the time,” says Bergh, who notes chainsaws were also popular items getting stolen until they started locking them up at night.

But that only worked until a recent theft, during which someone cut the fence and then forced open the door of the small office located at the gate. The thief or thieves stole chainsaws, a walkie-talkie and every key to every truck on the lot.

“Do you know how expensive that is to replace those keys? And now those guys have keys to these trucks,” says Bergh, who adds staff now park heavy equipment in front of the trucks so they can’t be moved. “And, nobody could do deliveries.”

Pointing towards the tent city, which is partially visible from the sidewalk outside of the store, Bergh says after a robbery he sometimes wanders over to see if he can spot any of their stolen merchandise.

“But I’m not confrontational. One time they stole one of those big aluminum tubs,” says Bergh, pointing to a number of large bathtub-shaped tubs on display outside the store. “They were taking baths in it.”

He describes the store’s location in relation to the tent city as “ground zero.”

“Sometimes they even wander in here during the day, completely spaced out wandering around the store with a backpack. So, we have to watch them or stuff gets stolen,” he says.

Walking to the back corner of the lot, Bergh shows off the new heavy duty galvanized fencing being installed against the chain-link as an added security measure — at great expense to the owner, he adds.

“We’ve lost a lot of stuff. I mean, nearly $10,000 in lawnmowers and chainsaws. Not to mention, the labour for our guys to keep fixing all this stuff,” says Bergh. “And I’ve got to get someone to download the tape and then the cop comes over and I spend a couple hours with them and it takes hours.”

Bergh says he’s not unsympathetic to the situation many of the residents of the tent city have found themselves in.

“It's such a sensitive topic and I've been trying to be really fair to everybody and you’ve got to realize it's a lack of resources and stuff, but also there it's there's a real cost to pay,” says Bergh. “I feel really bad for a lot of them. But something has to be done.”

This series continues next week.