I t was just after 7 a.m on April 28 when Circle the City’s Winnebago drove into the soon-to-be-renamed Cesar Chavez Park on Baseline Road. The Phoenix-based homeless service provider was about to make its first stop of the day. Perla Puebla, a nurse practitioner specializing in wound care and the group leader, sat in the front passenger seat next to Brenda Madril, their medical coordi- nator. Behind them at the van’s built-in table, surrounded by haphazardly stacked boxes and bags of supplies, was Maritza Arias, a behavioral therapist. The three women have worked together since late 2023, developing the kind of intimate rapport that comes with the challenges of the intensity of their jobs. The trio had met an hour earlier at Circle the City’s administrative building in midtown Phoenix to begin their shift driving around the city in search of unhoused people in need of medical care. While not the named leader, as the team’s driver, Madril decides where they go. The Winnebago — part pharmacy, part medical office, part mobile coworking space — was filled with everything from HIV and Hepatitis C tests to snacks, water and bandages. As Madril drove, the other two caught up on emails and checked in on the status of previous cases. Puebla balanced her laptop on her knees, bouncing ques- tions and ideas off Madril as they popped up. Arias typed away quietly in the back at the van’s table, which swiveled with every turn. As they arrived at their destination, the three women kept their eyes peeled for possible patients and a good parking spot. “This park, they never want to see us,” said Madril, who has worked with Circle the City for nearly nine years, the longest of the group. Street medicine is unpredictable work. Who they find and where all depends on the time of day, the time of the month and even the time of year. Go to a park too early, and the people who frequent it might not have arrived yet from wherever they spent the night. Go at the beginning or end of the month, when benefits are paid out, and they might be tucked away in a hotel room. Wednesdays and Thursdays are busy. Mondays are slow. Circle the City’s goal is to have each of its five street medicine teams see an average of eight people per day, five days a week. Some days, they give exams to only one or two people. Other days, it’s 20. They don’t have a set schedule, set route or even set a patient list. They go where they will find people. This week, the Phoenix City Council was poised to make that work a lot harder. On Tuesday, the council was set to vote on a proposed city ordinance that activists, advo- cates and organizations like Circle the City say essentially bans them from helping home- less people at all. (The vote took place after this story went to print.)The ordinance would prohibit providing medical care and distrib- uting food in city parks without a permit, except in the case of a sudden medical emergency. It allows for intranasal naloxone distribution and emergency use — key tools in fighting drug overdoses — but it bans syringe exchanges and any use of needles in medical care completely. As written, the city will provide two permits per park per month, available for 108 out of the more than 180 parks in the city. A previous draft banned both medical care and syringe exchanges altogether but did not include food distribution. The Phoenix City Council then had the city manager rewrite it. The new draft, advocates say, is worse. Advocates oppose the ordinance, saying it’s disconnected from the work on the ground. Permitted, preplanned events don’t work for organizations like Circle the City. They can’t plot where they will find people months in advance. And with the ordinance a likely fait accompli, with only one council- member coming out against it so far, the people actually on the streets delivering the aid say it raises more questions. They wonder not only what will happen to them and their work, but also to the people they serve. The ordinance, they say, fundamentally misunderstands the nature of what they do. Last week, Phoenix New Times tagged along to get a better look, spending several hours chugging along in the Winnebago and scouring local parks for people in need of help. It made for a hit-or-miss ordeal depending on the park — one that, if the ordi- nance passes and aid groups are hamstrung, advocates fear will become all-miss. “Every day is different. Every situation is so different,” said Puebla. “You can’t plan for that.” HELP LESS By Clarissa Sosin We tagged along with the people who feed and treat the unhoused in Phoenix parks. The city wants them to stop. Andrea sits for a check-up with the street medicine team in Hayden Park. (Clarissa Sosin) Circle the City’s street teams provide food and medical treatment to unhoused people in Phoenix parks. (Clarissa Sosin / Eric Torres)
