Help, hope, heartbreak but still no housing. A woman’s struggles continue without shelter

Dec. 11 marked the eve of a full year since Debra Griego was evicted from her government-subsidized housing, and she spent the day scrambling to sort through her storage unit, from which she was also set to be evicted.

Griego suffers from mental and physical health issues, and the 64-year-old’s only income is a disability check from the state. As temperatures dropped, so did her already depleted health.

“I feel like somebody beat the crap out of me,” she said.

While on the streets she’s reached extreme lows, but it’s clear the woman — one of 5,000 people experiencing homelessness in Albuquerque — isn’t giving up on the hope of spending her senior years with some stability, security and hopefully shelter.

As she packed her things, Griego met the federal criteria to be considered chronically homeless: a year on the streets. The milestone makes her eligible for a permanent housing voucher, through which the city, via nonprofits, allocates nearly $8 million annually to help roughly 1,300 people from over 700 households. The city has stated vouchers are prioritized by “acuity,” something with which Griego has struggled — she says she’s been diagnosed bipolar and with mild dementia.

As her situation became more dire, help ramped up.

Dozens of Journal readers reached out in the wake of our previous story on Griego last month, in hopes of assisting her. One of those readers was Boni Galarneau, who upon finding out Griego needed to vacate her storage unit by 10 p.m. Dec. 11, headed to help.

With the plan of paying for a new unit for Griego and helping her move out of the one she was in, Boni, her husband, Billy, and oldest son, Adam, arrived at a storage unit in disarray and packed to the brim.

The unit was a reflection of Griego’s scattered mind: bags of rocks and sticks, old family photos, Bibles and bottles emptied of medication dominated the front of the unit. But as the clutter was cleared, the larger items in the storage unit told another story: replicas of Renaissance paintings, a television, a sofa and a bed with a frame. The remnants of a different life, when a roof was over her head.

As the family cleared the unit and unloaded Griego’s belongings at the new one — which they paid for through March — she fell even more ill and said she needed to stay at a motel that night to recover. Boni offered her a ride without hesitation.

They arrived at the hotel check-in counter and while Griego had cash ready to pay for the stay Boni instead passed her ID and debit card over the counter and paid for four nights.

The day before she was set to check out, Boni told Griego the room had been paid until the new year.

“I’ve never had anybody help me before, ever,” Griego said.

A roof over her head

Griego’s voice returned quickly, her skin became clearer just days into her three-week stay.

One night at her hotel room, days before Christmas, she looked as relaxed as ever. A Bible opened on her nightstand, worship music played quietly in the background.

That night, Griego reflected on her past jobs, a résumé that included food service jobs at Taco Bell and McDonald’s and also for a cellular provider and a call center.

Despite having professional experience with phones, Griego seemed to struggle with them.

She complained about the phones she purchased not working, and is convinced at times that someone is “in the phone,” hacking her, barring her from using it properly.

Generally, her thinking got clearer the longer she remained in the hotel. One afternoon at her storage unit, she parted ways with bags of rocks that she had previously believed were “gold dust.”

Before the streets

Griego was born in East Los Angeles in 1960 and moved to New Mexico with her mother when she was 9 years old, after her parents divorced.

She was married twice and had three children: one lives in Oklahoma, one she does not have contact with any longer, and one named Joseph.

She described Joseph, her youngest, as a smart kid who ran track and played in his school band. One day while he was on spring break, Griego said Joseph was brutally and nearly fatally beaten in a parking lot by some older kids who lived in their apartment complex.

She believed the incident began a violent downward spiral for him.

After he was released from the hospital, Griego said Joseph had violent outbursts, one of which led her to call the cops.

On July 4, 2023, Joseph was involved in a fatal carjacking at a motel in the International District and remained at large until he was caught in December 2023.

Griego said Joseph didn’t tell her about his involvement in the crime until a month before his arrest for several charges, including first-degree murder.

He was booked just nine days before Griego was evicted. Though it’s been a year since a judge ordered him held behind bars until trial, she still holds out hope that Joseph might be released soon and can live with her.

The eleventh hour

While thankful for all their help, Griego expressed frustration at times with Billy and Boni.

She was upset she didn’t have the access code to the storage unit — since it was in Boni’s name — suspicion that the couple was stealing from her and trying to compromise her bank information and took issue with the way Boni spoke to her at times, saying it feels like she’s being bossed around.

Still, Boni and Billy showed up the morning of Jan. 1 to help Griego move out of her hotel room.

As the room was being cleared out, Boni handed Griego a pre-loaded gift card of an unspecified amount, which Debra reluctantly accepted and begrudgingly thanked her for.

Griego wasn’t sure what her plan was, but minutes before checkout time she received a call. Chuck Holman, founder of ABQ Plan, a nonprofit that seeks to keep low-income seniors from becoming homeless, told her he might have a room for her at one of their homes.

Griego agreed to an interview to determine her eligibility.

Holman, joined by three other people, arrived in a green Dodge minivan with duct tape hanging from the front bumper.

After talking to her for a few minutes, the group invited her, and her 2-year-old terrier Louie, into their van to show her where she’ll be staying.

Seventeen years ago, thousands of New Mexicans packed the streets to see the televised reveal of a renovated mansion in the International District with “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition’s” host Ty Pennington. The home has since become a shelter under ABQ Plan.

This was where Griego had landed a “semi-private” room.

The house was still stunning and upon arrival, Griego marveled at the massive wood beams featured on a 20-foot-tall ceiling, the shiny wood floors and an elegant kitchen.

She was shown to her white-walled room, whose only contents were a setup bed and a mattress leaning against the wall.

Griego thanked Holman. “I did not want to go back to the streets,” she told him, holding back tears. She bid goodbye to Boni and Billy.

But her stay only lasted one night.

By morning, Griego had decided to leave, saying she is uncomfortable with the fact that four men are staying at the house and taking issue with the $750 cost per month. She brings in just over $900 a month from her disability check.

She also wanted a place of her own so Joseph can stay with her when he’s released.

She took the bus with Louie and her belongings, headed to the storage unit to grab her tent and returned to the hill next to the highway.

With help from a Love’s employee she’s befriended by frequenting the truck stop, Griego sets up her tent — donated by a Journal reader — rolls out a sleeping bag and snuggles up with Louie as the temperature drops below 40 degrees.

For the first time in over three weeks she again had no roof over her head.

Editor’s Note: This story was compiled over a month following Debra Griego and is the second installment in a series where the Journal will follow Griego in her quest to secure housing.