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One year ago, my brother-in-law, Chris Lundegaard, was murdered. He was stabbed to death at a bus stop in Edina, waiting to ride home after picking up some groceries the night before Thanksgiving. The stabbing was an act of random violence. Chris had no affiliation to Adam Garcia, the man charged in his killing. Garcia had become homeless, is schizophrenic and had a history of minor brushes with the law, including trespassing, loitering, and peeing in public.
When I watched the TV news report of the murder I might have registered the tragedy and moved on, as we all do from terrible stories of violence we see on the news, were the victim not my brother-in-law. After all, this is the narrative that many hold regarding homeless individuals — the desperation of living on the street and the “bad character” of people who put themselves into that position in the first place.
I know better. My family experience tells me otherwise. My oldest brother, Jeff, was schizophrenic. At his worst when he was self-medicating (meaning stopped taking his medicine), he became paranoid, screwed his apartment windows shut and bought a gun. Off his meds, he disassociated himself from his family, leading him on a downward spiral toward, very likely, homelessness.
Health care systems and affordable housing providers know the impact that stable housing has on the health and well-being of an individual and a community. They are inextricably linked. Housing is health care.
In Jeff’s case, his erratic behavior and the advocacy of his family led to his placement in the state mental hospital in St. Peter. That is probably the most expensive form of stable housing, behind only the emergency room, where we see many homeless individuals end up. Jeff got back on his medication and was released after a few months. He settled in Winona in a Section 8 apartment close to a nearby drop-in center where he went to take his meds daily.
I am pleased to say that with stable housing and minimal support, he lived a content and happy life in the Winona community for 20 years. He read, wrote poetry, dabbled in photography and remained an important part of our family, always there to celebrate the holidays, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas, his favorites. When we would visit, he loved taking us to the Minnesota Marine Art Museum or the Great River Shakespeare Festival. He had relationships with other residents in his building and with drop-in center staff. When he died of a heart attack during the pandemic, it was that support system in the community that alerted us.