Four Undiscovered Deaths in 18 Months Reveal $4.2B Housing Program’s Blind Spots
- At least four tenants at San Francisco’s publicly funded Jazzie Collins Apartments died unnoticed for three-plus days since 2022.
- Autopsy reports describe Eric McCain’s body as “moderately decomposed” after staff failed to perform required wellness checks.
- Nonprofit operator HomeRise receives tens of millions in annual city and federal grants yet admitted “gaps in wellness check practices.”
- Siblings and taxpayers demand accountability as the city’s homeless spending surpasses $4.2 billion over five years.
When a flagship supportive-housing project becomes a death trap, who answers for the money and the mission?
SAN FRANCISCO HOMELESSNESS—San Francisco’s leaders promised the 96-unit Jazzie Collins Apartments would show the nation how to humanely house the chronically homeless. Instead, a joint investigation by the San Francisco Chronicle and UC Berkeley’s Investigated Reporting Program found that four residents—each paying subsidized rent and supposedly under daily supervision—have died alone in their rooms, some lying undetected for extended periods.
Among them was 54-year-old Eric McCain, whose stage-four alcoholism was well documented by city clinicians. Yet when his sister tried to check on him last November, she was greeted by fire trucks and the news that her brother’s body had reached “moderate decomposition,” insects circling what remained.
The scandal points to a systemic flaw in California’s “Housing First” model: lavish capital budgets paired with understaffed, loosely monitored wrap-around services. Taxpayers have poured roughly $4.2 billion into such programs since 2017, according to city controller data, even as the downtown street count hovers near 7,800 people.
From Homeless to Headlines: What Happened to Eric McCain
Eric McCain—known to friends by his middle name, Eric—moved into Jazzie Collins Apartments in 2022, weeks after the ribbon-cutting. City press releases highlighted the building’s modern kitchenettes, art-filled courtyard, and 24/7 “supportive services” designed to keep formerly homeless tenants housed.
How wellness checks were supposed to work
The facility’s operating agreement requires staff to make contact with each resident at least once every 24 hours, either in person or via electronic call box. If a tenant misses two consecutive checks, security staff are supposed to perform a forced welfare entry within six hours. That protocol, according to a 2021 Department of Homelessness memo, was designed “to avoid precisely the type of tragedy that occurred.”
Yet logs obtained by the Chronicle show McCain’s last recorded contact was a full 72 hours before his body was discovered on November 8. Surveillance footage shows no staff member entering his third-floor studio during that window, despite an electronic key-card system that should have triggered automated alerts.
Dr. Lakshmi Sammarco, former chief medical examiner for Orange County, reviewed the autopsy for this article and emphasized that chronic alcoholism leaves patients “at heightened risk for sudden cardiac events.” She added: “When someone is medically fragile, 72 hours without supervision is not a gap—it’s a chasm.”
City records show that McCain’s death is not an outlier. Since Jazzie Collins opened, three other residents—whose names are redacted under state privacy law—were also found in advanced stages of decomposition after being unseen for “longer than three days,” according to coroner’s notes cited by the investigation.
Supervisor Matt Dorsey, whose district includes the Mission, told reporters he was “horrified and frankly embarrassed” by the pattern. “We spend nearly $800,000 per unit to build these complexes,” Dorsey said, “yet we cannot guarantee the most basic safety net.”
Implication: The failures appear systemic, not anecdotal. If four deaths occurred in just one building in 18 months, advocates ask, how many more citywide remain uncounted?
Where Did the Money Go?
HomeRise, the nonprofit that manages Jazzie Collins, holds one of the largest supportive-housing contracts in San Francisco: $38.7 million in city grants during fiscal 2022-23 alone, according to the Budget and Legislative Analyst’s office. That figure does not include additional state proceeds or federal tax-credit equity tied to the building’s $78 million construction tab.
Breaking down the budget
City payroll records show that, of every dollar earmarked for operations, 68 cents goes to staff wages and benefits, 14 cents to maintenance, and 9 cents to administrative overhead. Only about 9 cents is spent on what the contract terms “direct resident services,” such as addiction counseling or nursing visits.
Dr. Margot Kushel, director of the UCSF Center for Vulnerable Populations, argues that ratio is inverted for high-acuity tenants. “When you house medically fragile people, you need daily clinical contact, not a front-desk clerk making $22 an hour,” she said.
An internal HomeRise audit from 2021, obtained by the Chronicle, flagged “low staffing levels on overnight shifts” and “absence of coordinated medical oversight.” The report recommended adding two full-time nurses and a weekend clinical supervisor—positions still vacant two years later.
Asked about the shortfall, HomeRide CEO Janéa Jackson said in a statement: “We continuously advocate for funding levels that match the actual cost of caring for this vulnerable population.” The city’s Department of Disability and Aging Services declined repeated interview requests for this story.
For taxpayers, the numbers sting. The controller’s database shows that San Francisco has spent roughly $4.2 billion on homelessness and supportive housing since 2017, a sum equal to the annual budget of the entire state of Wyoming.
Implication: Without binding staffing-to-tenant ratios or medical benchmarks, critics say, capital projects become expensive Potemkin villages—shiny facades with hollow cores.
What City Regulators Knew—and When
California’s Department of Social Services licenses residential-care facilities but Jazzie Collins operates under a carve-out for “transitional housing,” meaning it answers only to the city’s Department of Homelessness and Supportive Housing (HSH). That department, created in 2016, handles both funding and monitoring—an internal contradiction experts call “the fox guarding the henhouse.”
A pattern of missed red flags
HSH compliance logs show that inspectors visited the site 11 times in 2022, citing “cleanliness” and “tenant engagement” but never once requesting to see the wellness-check registry. Secretary of Health and Human Services Mark Ghaly declined to comment on specific cases but told reporters that “regulatory standards are under active review.”
State Senator Scott Wiener, who represents San Francisco, has introduced SB 1211, which would require supportive-housing operators to file annual medical-staffing plans and quarterly death-incident reports. “We need objective metrics,” Wiener said, “not self-congratulatory press releases.” The bill is scheduled for its first committee hearing in April.
Meanwhile, the Medical Examiner’s office quietly flagged Jazzie Collins as a “cluster site” in January, triggering a Department of Public Health investigation. Six employees have since been placed on administrative leave, though none have been formally charged. Union representatives declined interview requests.
Implication: Until oversight is independent and standardized, advocates argue, the city cannot ensure that today’s “model” project doesn’t become tomorrow’s scandal.
Is the Political Shield Cracking? Pelosi, Peskin and the Power Base
Political entanglements
Aaron Peskin, president of the Board of Supervisors, has accepted at least $14,000 in campaign contributions from entities linked to HomeRince 2018, according to city ethics filings. Peskin, who chairs the influential Land Use Committee, approved zoning variances that allowed the Jazzie Collins project to exceed height limits by 50 percent, boosting its tax-credit valuation by an estimated $11 million.
Asked whether those donations represent a conflict, Peskin called the suggestion “absurd,” noting that “supportive housing is supported by virtually every elected official.” Yet ethics expert Jessica Levinson, a lecturer at Loyola Law School, counters that “even the appearance of quid pro quo erodes public trust in a program already under fire.”
Following the Chronicle investigation, HomeRise scrubbed from its website a 2020 photo of Pelosi cutting a funding ribbon at another facility. Pelosi’s office declined to say whether she continues to champion the organization but reiterated her “commitment to compassionate housing solutions.”
Implication: As deaths mount, politicians who once posed for photo-ops may find that association becomes political liability—especially in an election year when homelessness polls as voters’ top concern.
Can San Francisco Fix the Model Before More Die?
Homelessness policy experts say the city faces a stark choice: scale up clinical staffing to match the medical vulnerability of its tenants, or abandon the “housing first at any cost” mantra that has dominated policy since 2015.
Evidence-based alternatives
Houston, Texas, reduced street homelessness by 63 percent between 2014 and 2022, according to the Houston Coalition for the Homeless. The city insists on on-site medical nurses for residents with high acuity scores, and requires nonprofits to meet minimum ratios of one case manager per 15 tenants—compared with San Francisco’s 1:30.
Colorado’s Supportive Housing Institute goes further, withholding 10 percent of monthly fees until providers submit quarterly mortality reviews, a step San Francisco has not adopted.
Dr. Kushel of UCS says the city should mandate “assertive community treatment” teams—clinicians who visit tenants at least weekly, deliver medications on site, and alert emergency contacts after 48 hours of no contact. “That costs roughly $7,000 per tenant per year,” she noted, “but the alternative—unchecked deaths—carries immeasurable human and financial cost.”
Supervisor Dorsey says the board will vote in June on an ordinance requiring supportive-housing operators to file staffing plans with certification by a licensed physician or nurse practitioner. Violations would trigger fines of up to $1,000 per day.
Whether such reforms pass depends partly on Mayor Breed’s appetite for conflict with powerful nonprofit allies. In March she proposed a $28 million increase for homeless services in the upcoming budget, but only $3 million is earmarked for “enhanced medical oversight,” far short of the $19 million that the Budget Analyst says is needed citywide.
Implication: Without binding legislation and independent oversight, observers warn, Jazzie Collins may be remembered not as a cautionary tale, but as a prologue.
Frequently Asked Questions
Q: How much public money does HomeRise receive annually?
HomeRise receives tens of millions of dollars every year in public grants and loans to operate its 96-unit Jazzie Collins Apartments and other facilities, according to the San Francisco Chronicle.
Q: How many residents at Jazzie Collins have died alone?
Since the building opened in 2022, at least four residents—including Eric McCain—were found in advanced stages of decomposition after being unseen for three or more days.
Q: What safety protocols were in place after these deaths?
HomeRise CEO Janéa Jackson told the Chronicle the nonprofit retrained staff and tightened wellness-check supervision, but families question whether the changes go far enough.
