On the Street, Few Options and Many Perils

"David was just a good person. And they say they found him with a mass of stab wounds. David didn't deserve this," said a friend of Feliz's who is known on the street as Ziggy.

He was one of about two dozen fellow homeless people, friends and family members who attended a memorial service yesterday morning at First Christian.

Feliz, the middle child of seven born to an Army officer, was a bright child who nevertheless dropped out of Annandale High School after his junior year. According to his sister Linda -- who couldn't attend the service at First Christian but wrote a letter that was read by Chesson -- he longed to follow his father into the Army but was turned down because of hearing problems.

Feliz drank heavily while he worked steadily in warehouse jobs around Baileys Crossroads for nearly 20 years, according to his sister. Even so, he rarely had a fixed address, preferring instead to sleep at the homes of friends, and even in a van. When he was laid off about 10 years ago, his decline accelerated, and he wound up serving a year in jail for check fraud.

After his release, Shira urged him to come back to her family's home in Stafford. Feliz insisted on returning to Baileys Crossroads. He became a familiar figure in the church kitchens and food pantries along Leesburg Pike that serve the homeless.

"There was a certain comfort level he had with that group," Shira said. "No high expectations, no disappointments."

Chesson said that while Feliz came for food, he more often craved conversation. For hours at a time, he sat in the church office, talking about his life and plans for getting back on his feet. His stories were sometimes too good to be true. Chesson said she was floored when she learned that a riveting account of his adventures as a Navy SEAL turned out to be fiction.

Chesson said homeless people can be quite demanding, often asking for hotel rooms and other expensive services. But Feliz was different. "He never asked for things," she said. "His life was his life."

Feliz also stood out because of his pride, she said. "David would stand up for himself. He didn't let people put him down." She fears that this trait may have contributed to his undoing.

Shira and Chesson both said they tried to get him help. But he drank away most of his opportunities, Shira said.

"I could have set him up in an apartment for a year and he wouldn't have been able to sustain it," she said. "Part of the problem was I never had a place I could track him down. All the contact was one way. He'd call every few months and say he was okay or that he'd been in jail for trespassing or something."

But at the service, his friends and family members tried to remember only the good things about a friend, brother and son. Toward the end of the service, Shira's 13-year-old son Andrew dedicated an austerely beautiful French horn version of "Amazing Grace" to his uncle.

Chesson said Feliz's community will take time to recover from losing him.

"It's left us numb and afraid and confused."