16 Oct 22nd - Oct 28th, 2026 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | “Just being out here, then the heat fresh out of jail,” she said. “It hit me really hard.” Anna explained that she knew some- thing was wrong when she started to over- heat. When the EMT gave her Narcan she tried to get across that she was too hot but couldn’t, she said. She also got second- degree burns from sitting on the 140-degree pavement. Anna watched the video. It was difficult. But she was grateful to Elicia and Spencer for advocating for her and calling 911. “I’d probably be dead,” she said. Anna’s hospitalization earned her an immediate spot in CASS, the single-adult shelter on the Key Campus. With it she would have 10 nights of reprieve from the heat. But then she was back out in the Zone. A month after surviving a heat stroke, she died of an overdose. GRAPE, FRUIT PUNCH OR STRAWBERRY LEMONADE Early on Aug. 14, Melanie sat on a stool in the shade of a Winnebago parked in a Comfort Inn parking lot, her head between her hands and a cooling cloth around her neck. Three healthcare workers from Circle the City sat around her. It was a Friday, the street medicine team’s day for patient follow-ups. For Melanie, it was a wound on her lower back that needed tending. Just minutes earlier, the medical team — Arias, a behavioral therapist, Perla Puebla, a nurse practitioner, and Brenda Madril, their medical coordinator — strategically placed themselves to block her from public view while they practiced their unique brand of guerrilla health care. The highway roaring behind them, Melanie had hiked up her spaghetti strap dress to reveal an old bandage hiding a small, red, angry wound on her lower back. The women cleaned it and applied a clean white bandage. When they’d found Melanie, she was half asleep, sitting on the corner of the ramp to I-10 beside a cart overflowing with her belongings and a handwritten cardboard sign that read: “I’m in 4th stage of chronic kidney disease with kidney failure & need some help please. God bless, drive safe & have a nice day.” A blue umbrella was the only object between her and the Phoenix sun. Her blood pressure was lower than the last time and she felt nauseated. She was suffering from the unrelenting heat. Aug. 14 was not an excessive heat day, but it wasn’t cool by any means. That morning in the parking lot, it was already 86 degrees with 57% humidity — balmy, by Phoenix standards. With the sun, it felt oppressive. And the health effects of heat are cumu- lative. Just days earlier, Phoenix had finished the 18-day stretch of consecutive excessive heat days. Despite the slight reprieve, temperatures were still reaching the low 100s. People living on the streets struggle to recover because they face high temperatures day in, day out. Melanie’s chronic kidney disease and the suboxone to help with her addiction made her more susceptible to heat. In the parking lot, Puebla, Arias and Madril tried to cool her down. They gave her a cold bottle of water and some electrolytes. “I’ve got three flavors, sweetie. Grape, fruit punch, and strawberry lemonade,” Madril said. Then, trying to pawn off an appealing electrolyte flavor: “Fruit punch?” “Are you feeling better?” Puebla asked her. It was late morning, and she hadn’t eaten yet. At her request, they bought her chicken strips with pepperjack cheese sauce and a cold Mountain Dew from Taco Bell. During a previous visit, Arias, Madril and Puebla had convinced her to accept a placement in one of the city’s homeless shelters. She’d agreed, but there was no room. This time they tried to convince her to let them drive her to a cooling center. She declined. It was her 10th summer on the street, Melanie said quietly. Normally she sits underneath trees and wets herself down with water from a spigot behind a nearby Jack in the Box to stay cool. The day before yesterday, she lost access to water. “They locked it,” she said. Melanie agreed to let Madril drive her to a shady spot across the street where she liked to rest. Perla and Arias pushed her cart there. The ride was short — just a couple of minutes — so the Winnebago got there first. Melanie waited for her belongings in the shotgun seat, her eyes shut and head resting back. The only noise was the air conditioning, blasting and blowing through her hair. She only climbed out when Perla and Arias arrived sweating and panting with her cart. Homeless people make up about 0.21% of Maricopa County’s population. There are just under 10,000 homeless people in a county of around 4.7 million people — the majority of whom live in Phoenix. As of Oct. 17, 44% of the people confirmed to have died from heat in the county were home- less. In 2025, it was 48%. To seriously combat heat as a public health issue, the city has to tackle homeless- ness head on, said Will Humble, executive director of the Arizona Public Health Association. “The sexy stuff is ‘Oh, you know, some- body got dizzy-headed on the golf course,’” said Humble. “It happens. But big deal, really. Statistically, that’s not the issue.” The city expanded its heat relief efforts for 2026 investing more than $5 million. It announced partnerships with organizations for new heat relief sites and expanded hours at other cooling centers throughout the city. Its 24-hour heat relief site at 220 W. Jackson St. continued to be open at all hours. “These sites primarily serve people expe- riencing homelessness,” said Wilson, Phoenix’s communications director. At the October meeting, the Phoenix City Council’s Public, Safety and Justice Subcommittee listened to a presentation to wrap up the 2026 heat season. Representatives from the fire department and the city’s Parks and Recreation Department walked the committee members through a set of slides detailing the year’s numbers through the end of August. The mean temperature was the third-highest on record: 93.8. There were 39 days at or above 110 degrees. There were 1,744 calls for service related to heat illnesses, about 14% for heat stroke. “This was just one presentation of several involving the City’s summer heat response,” Wilson wrote. “Heat and specifically the impact on those experi- encing homelessness have been discussed at several City Council meetings.” The presenters detailed the ice immer- sion technique and showed a short video. They outlined its effectiveness, including decreased mortality and shorter hospital stays. Then they turned to the trails. Twelve hikers were rescued on extreme heat warning days, six of which were on trails closed due to heat. When the presentation ended, the city council members asked questions. “The bags that are being used,” said council member Kevin Robinson. “Is that something we’re able to reuse? Or is it a one-time use, and then that’s the end of it?” They are not reusable, the presenters replied. Council member Laura Pastor went next. “I just want to thank you and your part- ners for saving lives,” Pastor said. “Because this is what it does, it’s saving lives.” Next, the subcommittee chair took the floor. They’d presented on heat rescues on trails with heat restrictions, council member Ann O’Brien said. “Do we track the data for how rescues occur on the other mountains in our city?” she asked. Some people think that if they are not hiking Camelback Mountain or Piestewa Peak, they will be okay even in the heat, she noted. “I just want to make sure that we have the data to have that conversation in our districts,” she said. There was one public comment. It focused on mountain rescues and dangers to first responders. Then the meeting ended. How heat affects homeless people was not mentioned once. ‘901 HENRY’ When Fred died on July 28, he would become one of 136 people confirmed to have died of heat in the 18-day heat wave. Another 122 possible heat related deaths remain under investigation for that time period. Once the first responders realized Fred’s body temperature was 107 degrees, the firefighters and officers went into action. One of the officers radioed out that the situation was now life-threatening. The firefighters brought out the bag, transferred Fred, now no longer hand- cuffed, into it and dumped in all of their ice. It wasn’t enough. “We’re going to have to get ice,” one of the firefighters said. They loaded Fred into the rescue. One of the officers jumped into the back next to Fred and they drove. Fred lay in the bag in the patient compartment, his tattooed torso uncovered. “His stats were good,” one firefighter noted. They decided to swing by the Circle K. The officer offered to go for ice. “Pop in there, ask them where their ice is. Just tell them it’s for the fire depart- ment,” one of the men monitoring Fred said as the rescue drove. “It takes, like, probably about four minutes.” But within 10 seconds, everything changed. “I’m going to shock him,” one of the firefighters monitoring Fred said. “He’s in V-fib.” Fred was coding. “Just go to the hospital!” the firefighter who told the officer how to get ice yelled at the driver. “Don’t stop for ice!” A firefighter said “clear” and Fred’s torso jumped. They began chest compressions and bagged him. The officer manually squeezed the bag that pushed oxygen into Fred’s lungs. The three firefighters worked furiously while the officer squeezed the bag. They spoke quietly among themselves about each step. The only other noises were the machine’s beeping and the rhythmic swish of the bag. At the hospital, they rolled him on a stretcher. The officer followed. Medical staff swooped in. The officer walked to a sink and took off his black gloves. He washed his hands. He watched the commotion, then walked back to the hospital door for better reception. They were working on the subject, he radioed. “There’s a code right now,” he said. “There’s a possibility he goes 901 Henry.” He was radioing that Fred was going to die. Circle the City workers didn’t want Melanie remaining outside in the heat. (Clarissa Sosin) Heat of the Moment from p 13