Dyllan Taylor Humphrey spent most of a recent Saturday walking the streets of Moncton in search of her homeless younger brother.
Eventually, she found him in the parking lot of a convenience store, digging through a garbage bag.
“It’s a strange thing to love somebody with an addiction, but it’s a crazier thing to walk a moment — not in their shoes — but in their environment,” she said.
Her brother, whom CBC News has agreed not to name, has struggled with drug addiction for 12 years and been homeless since last fall.
Taylor Humphrey lives in Belleisle, about 150 kilometres southwest of Moncton. When she heard from people who’ve been keeping an eye on her brother that he wasn’t doing well, she drove to the city to make sure he was alive.
“I felt scared and just disbelief that this is how he’s living,” said Taylor Humphrey, who hadn’t seen her brother for four months. “And tremendous guilt.”
Woman recounts what it was like to search for her homeless brother in Moncton
The number of people without a place to live has risen steadily for several years across New Brunswick.
In Moncton, Saint John and Fredericton, about 1,543 people were homeless for at least a day in March, according to the latest count by the Saint John-based Human Development Council.
In the area that Taylor Humphrey searched in Moncton, it’s not uncommon to see small groups of people huddling on vacant lots in oversize jackets and blankets, or people pulling shopping carts full of their belongings, looking through garbage.
“I had no idea that the homeless community was this large, and I saw ages from 20 to 60s,” she said. “It was mind-blowing seeing people at their most vulnerable state just out on the street.”
Taylor Humphrey and her two brothers were raised in a rural community, and their parents split up when they were young. She described her childhood as “a little chaotic,” but she has fond memories of her youngest brother, who she said was an honours student and athlete growing up.
She was not prepared for how she found him in Moncton.
“It almost looked like a piece of him was missing,” Taylor Humphrey said. “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen him in survival mode like that.”
It was a relief to give her thin, exhausted brother a hug.
Taylor Humphrey also gave him Gatorade, food, and a bag of warm clothes, including new shoes because he didn’t have a pair that fit.
For her, one of the hardest parts of having a loved one who’s an addict and homeless is reconciling the life they are living with the person they used to be.
“We know them as a different person,” she said.
“I saw my brother as a little boy. I saw my brother cry at Brother Bear, the movie. I saw my brother sneak into my room when we were kids because he was scared to sleep in his room.”
But when her brother started using drugs at 15, and she told her mother, the family dynamic changed.
“I always felt it was my job to protect him,” Taylor Humphrey said. “I was supposed to be a secret keeper. So when I had to tell my mom, it really put a toll on our relationship.”
Her brother’s drug use was like a cycle, shifting between good days and bad, she said.
“I found a way to have a relationship with him with boundaries because, unfortunately, with addiction that’s what you have to do.”
Today, Taylor Humphrey said, she is triggered by things in daily life that make her think of her brother, and she carries guilt about her own circumstances — including having a place to call home.
“When I lay down in my room at night, and I’m safe and I have a roof over my head and I think, ‘Where is he tonight? Is he somewhere safe? Is he warm?'”
People who’ve never been in the situation she faces can be quick to judge and accuse family members of not doing enough, she said. Why not take the person who is struggling off the street and into their own homes, some wonder.
Taylor Humphrey finds the issue more complex.
“I have two young kids and I unfortunately can’t do that,” she said. “I don’t want my children to know him like that. I want my children to know him for the vibrant human being he is.”
After Taylor Humphrey found her brother looking through garbage that Saturday, he ate and slept in her car for a few hours before she dropped him off at Ensemble Moncton, a harm reduction organization that provides a safe injection site and connects drug users with resources.
Thirteen overdoses were called into 911 the day Taylor Humphrey was in Moncton. Keith Guptill, the deputy chief of operations, says those calls have become the norm.
“This is not new to Moncton,” he said. “Back in the day, you heard of an overdose here and there. It’s unconscionable that it’s eight to 10 a day.”
And some overdoses are now even more dangerous because of a combination of street drugs.
First responders often use naloxone — commonly referred to by the brand named Narcan — in emergencies.
Guptill believes a batch of tainted drugs circulating in Moncton, which could be fentanyl laced with other drugs such as a benzodiazepine, makes it more difficult to reverse overdoses.
“Narcan doesn’t have the same effect on that kind of drug because it doesn’t impact benzodiazepine,” he said. “So the complicated part is not knowing what drugs they’ve got on board.”
An opioid-related overdose impacts the part of the brain that tells the body to breathe, according to the New Brunswick Department of Health. And the risk of overdose increases when opioids are mixed with other street drugs.
Scott Phipps, the Ensemble executive director, said his staff are noticing younger people walking through their doors.
“The reality is they don’t want to die,” Phipps said. “They’re coming here because they know that somebody’s watching over them. And if anything happens, they’ll be there to make sure that they don’t die.”
Ensemble has a registered nurse on site for minor ailments, and staff try to help people find housing and connect with their families.
“We do see family members that will bring their loved ones here just for that knowledge that they are being helped,” Phipps said.
Taylor Humphrey has seen her brother try to get his life back on track.
Last fall, she said, he was on a waitlist for the intensive day treatment program offered by Horizon Health Network, which tries to help people in the Moncton area reduce or manage addiction.
He was told he would have to wait six weeks to three months to get in. As he waited, he relapsed and ended up back on the street.
“Addicts don’t have time to wait … because tomorrow is not guaranteed,” Taylor Humphrey said.
CBC News tried to find out from Horizon what current wait times are for the program but did not get a response.
After that Saturday, Taylor Humphrey saw her brother again four days later. The clothes and the backpack she gave him had already been stolen.
Seeing how he lived now, and the shelter where he has slept in the past, underscored the need for compassion and additional resources.
“Everyone is trying to survive here,” she said. “You can’t even close your eyes without having the shoes stolen off your feet.”
Taylor Humphrey doesn’t want to believe this is the way her brother’s story ends, and she tells him he deserves a good life.
“We just have to set him up again and hope that his day comes soon where he decides to make a change.”
