On the Street, Few Options and Many Perils
Fairfax Killing Illustrates Grave Risks Accompanying the Misfortune of Homelessness

By Bill Turque
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, December 22, 2006

David Feliz made no excuses for his life -- for his homelessness, for the drinking that left him incapable of pulling himself together. It was one of the reasons that people liked him.

"He accepted the life he'd chosen," said the Rev. Kathleen Kline Chesson, senior minister at First Christian Church in Falls Church, where Feliz was a regular at a twice-weekly day shelter over the past few winters.

Feliz's acceptance of his troubled life doesn't make it any easier for his friends and family to accept how he died. Feliz, 45, was found dead on the morning of Dec. 11 in the laundry room of an apartment building in the Culmore neighborhood, where he'd probably spent the night. Fairfax County police describe his injuries as "upper body trauma." His sister, Karen Shira, a former deputy sheriff in Fairfax, said investigators told her that he had been stabbed five times, one of the wounds piercing his aorta.

Police have made no arrests and said the investigation is continuing.

Feliz's death comes as Fairfax churches, aided by the county government and a nonprofit agency, are opening their doors to shelter the homeless during very cold weather this winter. Organizers said they hope to duplicate last year's result -- no known hypothermia deaths.

But the slaying is a reminder that freezing conditions are only one of the threats facing those who live outdoors.

Nearly 170 homeless people in the United States have been slain in the past six years, and nearly 500 others were violently attacked, according to the National Coalition for the Homeless. There have been beatings with baseball bats, stabbings, stompings and kickings, and some have been set on fire.

Mortality rates for the homeless are three times as high as for the general population, according to research compiled by the coalition. The average life expectancy is 51. Afflictions such as alcoholism, heart disease and gastrointestinal disorders take on an added lethality.

Yesterday evening on McPherson Square in Northwest Washington, the coalition and the National Health Care for the Homeless Council, held a ceremony in observance of National Homeless Persons' Memorial Day. Organizers planned a candlelight vigil and a reading of the names of the homeless who died in the District in 2006.

The county keeps no statistics on the deaths of homeless people, but Feliz is the third known to have died recently in Fairfax. While police say no foul play is suspected in the two other cases, formal determination of the causes of death are awaiting the completion of toxicology tests.

On the morning of Nov. 6, the body of Gregory Lou Wireman, 52, was found in woods near Reston Town Center that are often used by the homeless as a campsite. Randy Blankinship, 58, was found dead Oct. 28 in a tent in woods about 200 yards from the intersection of Mount Vernon Drive and Arlington Terrace.

Last week's killing has jolted the homeless population of the Baileys Crossroads area, where Feliz, a short man with a thick moustache, was known as generous and friendly.

"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."