Anti-ICE riots force HUD offices to shutter weeks after 'Squad' Dem, Maxine Waters said Trump would close them
The temporary closures due to the violence come just weeks after Democrats such as California Rep. Maxine Waters and Michigan Rep. Rashida Tlaib claimed HUD field offices would permanently close due to Department of Government Efficiency efforts, with Waters saying such closures would affect "families and communities across the country who rely on HUD for housing assistance, community and economic development projects."
HUD Secretary Scott Turner exclusively told Fox News Digital on Tuesday that liberals' claims in recent weeks that HUD would shutter field offices were "fake news" while lambasting Democrats for "encouraging riots" that have caused the three offices to temporarily shutter.
"The left and legacy media spread fake news over false reports that HUD is closing field offices," Turner told Fox News Digital Tuesday. "Now they're encouraging riots that have actually forced at least three field offices to temporarily close."
"Democrat-run blue states like California are suffering from failed leadership, resulting in record homelessness, unchecked illegal alien crime and, as we're seeing now on full display, pandemonium, chaos and destruction," he added. "The American people deserve better. HUD will continue to serve communities in the face of this reckless violence while prioritizing safety and security."
Now, three field offices are temporarily closed as riots and protests spiral in Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York City. Los Angeles has seen widespread riots since Friday, when federal law enforcement officials converged on the city to conduct immigration raids as part of President Donald Trump's campaign vow to deport the millions of illegal immigrants who crossed the border under the Biden administration.
Other anti-ICE protests have broken out in New York City and San Francisco since the L.A. riots began, which have led to dozens of arrests.
Fox News Digital obtained more than a dozen images showing graffiti strewn across a federal building in downtown L.A., which is home to a HUD field office. HUD's satellite office is located just blocks from City Hall, where some of the violent riots have unfolded.
Media outlets earlier in 2025 ran headlines that the Trump administration had plans to shutter dozens of HUD field offices across the country, which was reported as a potential violation of federal law as HUD must be represented in each state. Turner said on X on Tuesday that his department "hasn't closed a single field office."
Waters led a group of Democrat lawmakers and anti-DOGE protesters in March in an attempt to enter HUD headquarters and hand-deliver a protest letter to Turner that demanded "answers on efforts to decimate federal housing programs."
Waters, and a handful of other House Democrats, were permitted to enter HUD headquarters, while the California Democrat warned they would "stay all night" until they met with Turner, Breitbart News exclusively reported in March. HUD staffers informed the group they would deliver the letter to Turner, while Waters protested for a meeting with the HUD secretary.
Tlaib also attempted to take part in the gaggle of lawmakers demanding to meet with Turner, but was seen stopped at HUD's entrance in video footage. Tlaib was heard shouting,"You don't give a sh--!" at HUD employees as the group of lawmakers and DOGE protesters ultimately left the building without meeting with Turner.
A month after the HUD trip, Waters sent a letter in April to the Government Accountability Office's comptroller and HUD's acting inspector general calling for an investigation into allegations "the Administration plans to shut down local field offices and terminate housing agency staff."
"I am concerned about what effects this will have on families and communities across the country who rely on HUD for housing assistance, community and economic development projects, as well as enforcement of federal fair housing and civil rights laws," Waters wrote in the letter.
"Employees across approximately 54 field offices have localized expertise and work in communities to carry out face-to-face technical assistance, provide timely guidance to local grantees and officials to help speed up project timelines, and manage oversight and enforcement of federal statutes in each region," she continued. "The Trump Administration's proposal to close 34 field offices would severely disrupt federal housing programs, stall local development projects, and threaten the jobs of approximately 360 full-time employees."
Fox News Digital reached out to Waters' and Tlaib's respective offices inquiring whether they are still concerned about HUD office closures due to violence in the left-wing cities, but did not immediately receive responses.
Riots broke out in L.A. on Friday evening after federal law enforcement officials converged on the city to carry out immigration raids. Local leaders such as Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass and Gov. Gavin Newsom quickly denounced the raids in public statements while offering words of support for illegal immigrants in the state.
Protests over the raids soon devolved into violence as rioters targeted federal law enforcement officials, including launching rocks at officials, with videos showing people looting local stores, setting cars on fire and taking over a freeway.
Trump announced on Saturday that he was deploying 2,000 National Guard members to help quell the violence, and the administration deployed hundreds of Marines to respond to anti-immigration chaos on Monday evening as the violence continued.
"If I didn't 'SEND IN THE TROOPS' to Los Angeles the last three nights, that once beautiful and great City would be burning to the ground right now," Trump posted to Truth Social on Tuesday morning.
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New details highlight harrowing minutes inside Manhattan office building as mass shooting unfolded
EDITOR'S NOTE: This story contains graphic descriptions of violence. During evening rush hour in New York City on Monday, a man calmly walked into a Park Avenue office building lobby and killed a police officer, then opened fire on other innocent strangers. Within a minute, the gunman had disappeared into a labyrinth of elevator banks and hallways, armed and loose somewhere in the 44-story building. The day's violence would become the deadliest mass shooting in New York City since 2000. The gunman shot and killed four people and wounded another, before killing himself, police said. From the moment the first panicked 911 calls were received, the New York Police Department unleashed a torrent of cops, specially trained units, heavy weapons, sophisticated technology and a swift information exchange among its 32,000 police officers and law enforcement partners across the country. As calls flooded in, the NYPD's electronic log system captured the horror happening in real time inside the Park Avenue skyscraper. The shorthand notes, obtained by CNN, show the desperation of frightened callers as operators attempted to piece together what was happening. 'INVESTIGATE/POSSIBLE CRIME: SHOTS FIRED/INSIDE\ACTIVE_SHOOTER,' read one note. 'ACTIVE SHOOTER IN THE BUILDING AND LOCKED SELF IN ROOM,' the log notes a female caller reported. Additional calls are logged: '7-8 SHOTS HEARD,' 'LOCATION IS NFL HEADQUARTERS,' 'SHOOTER IN BUILDING.' Another female caller reported her husband telling her he's in a locked room, according to the log. From precinct officers to specialized commands, swarms of law enforcement teams raced to the scene. The NYPD's Emergency Service Unit, which operates as a SWAT team, entered the building and began a systematic search for the gunman, who was somewhere inside. At the same time, officers from the Strategic Response Command, providing an additional long-weapons team, set up a perimeter and established a safe corridor known as a 'warm zone' to get medical personnel in and wounded victims out while the search for the gunman continued, law enforcement officials said. While those teams secured the area outside, detectives made their way into the skyscraper and examined surveillance video in the building's control center. They took a screengrab of the gunman, and using technology developed by NYPD Commissioner Jessica Tisch, blasted the image to NYPD officers' department-issued phones. Within minutes, every officer searching the building or holding the outside perimeter had a picture of a man taking large strides and carrying an assault rifle, the officials said. The gunman was identified after responding teams found his body on the building's 33rd floor: 27-year-old Shane Devon Tamura of Las Vegas, Nevada. New details from law enforcement sources shed light on Tamura's travel to New York City, the gunman's movements inside the building and the police investigation. Here's what we've learned about the shooting at 345 Park Avenue: From Las Vegas to New York City Officers found Tamura's black Series 3 BMW double-parked in front of the Park Avenue building, and then used his name, vehicle registration and a disjointed suicide note found in his back pocket to pull together a timeline of Tamura's path to the carnage. On Saturday, July 26, two days before the shooting, a license plate reader in Loma, Colorado, recorded Tamura's car with Nevada license plates passing through at 1:06 p.m., according to a law enforcement official. On Sunday, Tamura did not show up for his surveillance job as part of the security team at the Horseshoe Casino in Las Vegas. He was miles away. Tamura's black BMW was spotted driving eastbound on Interstate 80 by a license plate reader (LPR) owned by the Nebraska State Patrol. Later, an LPR operated by the Scott County Sheriff's Office recorded the car on I-80 near Wolcott, Indiana. At 4:24 p.m. Monday, a camera attached to the New Jersey State Police's real-time crime center took a picture of his BMW, this time along I-80 in Columbia, New Jersey, nearly two hours before the rampage would begin. Tamura arrives at his intended target Two senior law enforcement officials who reviewed video from the Midtown Manhattan office building provided the following account of the gunman's movements on Monday: At 6:26 p.m., Tamura double-parked outside 345 Park Avenue. He got out of the car carrying the M4 semi-automatic rifle, crossed the sidewalk and then the broad plaza leading to the office building's entrance. One minute later, Tamura entered the building. Inside, Tamura turned to his right to face uniformed NYPD officer Didarul Islam and shot him, killing the 36-year-old father of two who was expecting his third child. As Islam fell, Craig Clementi, who works in the NFL's finance department, was also shot. Clementi called his coworkers to warn them that a gunman was in the lobby firing shots, and then called 911, according to one of the senior officials. Wesley LePatner, a 43-year-old Blackstone executive, was shot as she moved toward a pillar in the lobby, police said. LePatner died from her wounds. Tamura then shot Aland Etienne, a 46-year-old security guard. Wounded, Etienne crawled toward the console behind the security desk and collapsed. Tamura went to an elevator bank on the opposite side of the lobby to the elevators that go up to the NFL offices. Officials have said investigators believe Tamura was headed for the NFL offices at the time of the shooting, but took the wrong elevator. He ignored a woman exiting an elevator car, entered it and then pressed 33, the lowest available on its panel, according to one of the senior law enforcement officials. Once on the 33rd floor, Tamura faced glass walls with locked doors on either end of the hallway. These were the offices of Rudin Management, the company that runs the building. Tamura tried opening the doors, then opened fire on the glass and kicked through it to enter the floor, officials said. By then, it was likely he realized he wasn't at the NFL offices, according to the officials. Tamura saw an office cleaner, Sebije Nelovic, and opened fire but missed her, she said in a statement released by her union. Nelovic said she ran down the hallway and locked herself in a closet. She heard screams and more gunfire, she said, describing the gunman at one point shooting the door she was hiding behind. As shots rang out, frantic employees called 911 and barricaded themselves in offices and conference rooms. Their desperate calls reported how many shots they had heard, where they were hiding and where they believed the gunman was moving, according to a radio call log reviewed by CNN. Over the years, Rudin Management conducted active shooter drills and training for its employees. Their offices on the 33rd floor have bathrooms designed as safe rooms, in the event of an incident just like the one that unfolded Monday, the officials said. The rooms are outfitted with bullet-proof doors that lock with bolts from the inside, and their walls are lined with Kevlar. Each bathroom is equipped with a video feed showing the hallway outside and a dedicated telephone line. Julia Hyman, a 27-year-old Rudin Management employee who was working late, was in one of those very bathrooms designed as a safe room. It is not clear whether she had heard the shots or understood what was unfolding outside. She stepped outside the bathroom, and walked three or four steps, apparently unaware that the gunman was behind her. He fired, striking her in the back. Wounded, Hyman stumbled to her desk and died from her wounds, according to one of the officials who reviewed the video. By this time, it appeared Tamura realized there were no more accessible targets in the office, and, with police swarming the building, it was not likely he was going to find his way to the NFL, the official said. A few seconds after shooting Hyman, video is said to show Tamura stood next to a desk, held out his arms to aim the rifle at his own chest and used his thumb to pull the trigger, firing a single round, the official said. His body dropped to the floor, his rifle falling next to him. Tamura had fired most of two 30-round magazines of .223 ammunition in a matter of minutes, the official said. Throughout the night and into the morning, police collected evidence from where the victims lay and from the areas where shots were fired. In the building lobby, 23 shell casings and more than a dozen ricocheted bullet fragments were recovered, according to an NYPD official. In the 33rd floor offices of Rudin Management, investigators from the NYPD's Crime Scene Unit found another 24 shell casings from Tamura's M4 rifle, as well as 15 bullet fragments, the NYPD official said. Tracing the gun Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives agents on the scene received the rifle's serial number, and within minutes detectives learned the rifle had been purchased on August 29, 2024, by a Las Vegas man identified as 'Rick,' a coworker of Tamura's at the Horseshoe Casino, according to documents reviewed by CNN. 'Rick' has not responded to CNN's requests for comment. The NYPD Intelligence Bureau's SENTRY unit, which maintains a national network of law-enforcement contacts, then reached out to Las Vegas Sheriff Kevin McMahill, who sent detectives to interview 'Rick.' 'Rick' had also sold Tamura the black BMW he drove across the country, according to Nevada DMV records. Other Las Vegas sheriff's deputies were dispatched to Tamura's apartment to seal it while awaiting a search warrant. Another team went to interview Tamura's parents, who lived nearby. The Las Vegas Metro Police Crime Stoppers hotline received a call at 8:25 p.m. the night of the shooting. A licensed gun dealer had seen the picture of Tamura and remembered his face. In June, he had sold him a modified trigger for an M4 rifle. Tamura had also told the dealer that he planned to buy 500 rounds of .223 ammunition for the assault rifle, a law enforcement official told CNN. Back in New York, Tamura's BMW was cleared by the bomb squad. Detectives recovered 827 rounds for a stainless steel .357 magnum Colt Python revolver. According to the same official, the gun was fully loaded with another six rounds in the cylinder.
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an hour ago
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A Compton family endured two killings in just eight months. Why justice is so elusive
Jessica Carter is tired of being resilient. After her brother, Richard Ware, 48, was stabbed to death outside a Los Feliz homeless shelter last month, it fell to her to hold their extended family together. Just eight months prior, another relative — her 36-year-old nephew, Jesse Darjean — was gunned down around the block from his childhood home in Compton. His slaying remains unsolved. Across L.A. County and around the country, murder rates are falling to lows not seen since the late 1960s. Yet clearance rates — a measure of how often police solve cases — have remained relatively steady. In other words: Even with fewer homicides to investigate, authorities have been unable to bring more murderers to justice. Police data show killings of Black and Latino people are still less likely to be solved than those of white or Asian victims. Carter's hometown of Compton is still crawling out from under its reputation as a national epicenter for gang violence. But for all of its continued struggles, violent crime — especially killings — has plummeted. When the gang wars peaked in 1991, there were 87 homicides. Last year, there were 18, including Darjean's fatal shooting on Oct. 24. The way Carter sees it, the killers who took her brother and nephew are both getting away with it — but for different reasons. In Darjean's shooting, there are no known suspects, witnesses or motive. But the man who stabbed Ware is known to authorities. The L.A. County district attorney's office declined to file charges against him, finding evidence of self-defense, according to a memo released to The Times. Ware's sister and other relatives dispute the D.A.'s decision, claiming authorities have failed to fully investigate. "The system failed him," Carter said. In the absence of arrests and charges, Carter and her family have simmered with rage, grief and frustration. With digital footprints, DNA testing and more resources than ever available to police, how is it that the people who took their loved ones are still walking free? In Darjean's case, the investigation is led by the L.A. County Sheriff's Department, which has patrolled Compton since 2000, when the city disbanded its own Police Department. Leads appear to be scarce. His body was found in the back seat of his car, which had been riddled with bullets. A father of three, he had just gotten home late at night from one of his jobs as a security guard. To Sherrina Lewis, his mother, it seemed the world was quick to forget and move on. News outlets largely ignored the shooting. Social media sensationalized it. She couldn't resist reading some of the comments online, speculating about whether her son was killed by someone he knew or because of his race or a gang affiliation. But, Darjean was no gangster, she says. True, there had been rumors around the neighborhood about escalating conflict between the Cedar Block Pirus, a Black gang, and their Latino rivals. But if anything, Lewis said, her son was targeted in a classic case of wrong place, wrong time. When homicide detectives began knocking on doors for answers, her former neighbors claimed not to have seen anything. For Lewis, it felt like betrayal — many of those neighbors had watched Darjean grow up with their kids. 'Each and every day I have to ask God to lift the hardness in my heart, because I'm angry,' Lewis said. 'They're not gonna make my son no cold case, I promise you that.' Lewis nearly lost Darjean once before, at the moment of his birth. He and his twin brother were born three months early, and doctors warned that Darjean was the less likely of the two to survive. He suffered from respiratory problems, which left him dependent on a breathing machine. The prognosis was bleak. Doctors asked her for 'a name for his death certificate' in case he died en route to a hospital in Long Beach. Picking 'Jesse' on the spot was agony, she said. In the end, Darjean was the twin who survived. Shy as a child, he had grown up to be outgoing and witty, a person who loved to cook soul food and make dance videos with his sister and post them on Instagram. While his siblings all moved away as they got older, Darjean insisted on staying put. Compton was home, through and through, he used to tell his mother. He wasn't blind to the gang violence, but he came to know a different side of the city, one that represented Black joy and resilience — a side he saw captured in Kendrick Lamar's music video for the Grammy-winning 'Not Like Us.' When his niece ran for Miss Teen Compton, Darjean advocated on her behalf by taking out a full-page ad in the local newspaper that proclaimed: "Compton is the best city on Earth.' But Darjean knew the pain of losing loved ones. His friend Montae Talbert was killed late one night in 2011 in a drive-by shooting outside an Inglewood liquor store. Talbert, known as M-Bone, was a member of the rap group Cali Swag District, the group behind the viral rap dance the "Dougie." Around the same time, the mother of Darjean's oldest daughter was gunned down in Compton. A few years later, another uncle, Terry Carter, a businessman who built classic lowrider cars and started a record label with Ice Cube, was struck and killed by a vehicle driven by rap impresario Marion 'Suge' Knight. After Darjean's funeral, which Lewis said drew more than 1,000 people, she returned to the scene of the shooting: Brazil Street, right off Wilmington Avenue, on a modest block of stucco and wood-frame homes. With the bravado of an angry, grieving mother, she began going door-to-door in her old neighborhood, seeking answers. She wanted to show anyone who was watching that she wouldn't be intimidated into silence. When she confronted one of Darjean's close childhood friends about what happened, he swore he didn't know anything. She didn't believe him. 'He just broke down crying. I can tell it was eating him up,' Lewis said. The L.A. County Sheriff's Department did not respond to multiple inquires about Darjean's case. On some level, Lewis understands the hesitancy. Fear of gang retaliation and distrust of law enforcement still hangs over the west Compton neighborhood. After raising her six children there, in 2006 she sold their family home of 50 years and moved to Palmdale because she didn't want her "kids to become accustomed to death." For her, she said, the final straw was the discovery of a body "propped up" on her neighbor's fence. Like generations of Black women before her, Lewis is faced with enormous pressure to carry their family's burden. Possessing a superhuman-like will to overcome adversity is celebrated by society with terms such as 'Black Girl Magic' and 'Strong Black Woman,' said Keisha Bentley-Edwards, an associate professor of medicine at Duke University. But such unrealistic expectations not only strip Black women of their innocence from an early age, but also contribute to higher pregnancy-related death rates and other bad health outcomes, she said. "A lot of times people expect Black women to take care of it," Bentley-Edwards said in an interview. Instead of romanticizing the struggle, she said, there should be 'tangible support like housing or employment' and other resources. But experts say safety nets are at risk, particularly after the Trump administration in April terminated roughly $811 million in public safety grants for L.A. and other major cities. As a result, federal funds for victim services programs, which offer counseling and other resources, have been slashed. Lewis never thought she'd be in a position to need such help. 'The funny thing is, we're from Compton born and raised, but we were not a statistic until my son was murdered," she said. "My kids had a two-parent household. We both had jobs. We weren't doing welfare: I worked every day.' Months of waiting on an arrest in Darjean's death led Carter, his aunt, into a "dark place." She ended up taking a spiritual retreat into the mountains of Nigeria. She was still working through the feelings of anger and guilt when she learned her brother, Ware, had been fatally stabbed on July 5. She described the days and weeks that followed as a teary blur. Coming from a family of nurses taught her how to push aside her own grief and forge on, but she was left wondering how much more she could endure. Ware, who went by Duke, was his family's unofficial historian, setting out to map out their sprawling Portuguese and Creole roots and scouring the internet for long-lost relatives. He used to brag all the time about his daughter, who had graduated from nursing school and moved back to the L.A. area to work at a pediatric intensive care unit on the Westside. He used to joke that for all of his shortcomings as a father, he had at least gotten one thing right. In recent months, though, Ware's life had started to spiral. His diabetes had gotten worse, and a back injury left him unable to continue in his job as a long-haul truck driver. Relatives worried he was hiding a drug addiction from them. He had adopted a bull mastiff puppy named Nala. She used to follow him everywhere, usually trotting a few steps behind without a leash. Even when he was having trouble making ends meet, he always "spoiled her," his family said. For a few months, he lived out of a van one of his sisters bought for him. He then landed at a shelter, a hangar-style structure on the edge of Griffith Park. He and Nala were kicked out after a short time, but he still frequented the area, and it's where L.A. County authorities said the fight that ended in his killing began. Prosecutors said in a memo that surveillance video showed Ware and his dog chasing another man into a parking lot across the street from the shelter. The two men, the D.A.'s memo said, had been involved in an ongoing dispute, possibly over a woman. According to the memo, the man said he'd been carrying a knife because of a previous altercation in which Ware ordered his dog to attack. On the day of the stabbing, the man said, Ware had shown up with Nala at the shelter, looking for a confrontation. After the fight, responding officers found Ware suffering from a deep wound to his chest, Nala with several lacerations and the suspect hiding in a nearby porta-potty. His clothes had been torn off, and he was bleeding profusely from several severe dog bites, the memo said. Prosecutors said witnesses corroborated the man's story that Ware had been the aggressor, in addition to the video footage. Ware's family says that account contradicts what they heard from other residents, who claimed Ware was the one defending himself after the other man attacked him with a vodka bottle. In the meantime, they are working to secure Nala's release from the pound, where she has been nursing her injuries. On July 8, Carter organized a candlelight vigil for her brother outside the shelter where the killing happened. That morning, she said, she cried in the shower before steeling herself so she could run out to a Dollar Tree store to pick up some balloons. When she got to the vigil, Lewis made her way around, greeting the swarm of relatives holding homemade signs and chanting Ware's name. After a final prayer, the group released balloons, most of which floated upward with the evening's lazy breeze. Some, though, got caught in the branches of a large tree nearby. A smile finally crossed Carter's face as she pointed up to them. She took it as a sign from Ware, as though he was saying a last goodbye before he departed to heaven. "He's trying to hang on," she said. Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Yahoo
an hour ago
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Housing First worked. Why is HUD turning its back on homeless veterans?
As a veteran, housing advocate, and public housing administrator serving the Fort Riley community, I've seen firsthand how 'Housing First' policies have transformed lives. That's why I'm deeply alarmed by the new executive order on homelessness and the Department of Housing and Urban Development's recent policy shifts under Secretary Scott Turner. In 2010, the U.S. committed to ending veteran homelessness. By 2012, the Department of Veterans Affairs launched the Supportive Services for Veteran Families (SSVF) program — an initiative rooted in the Housing First model. The results were undeniable. Communities across the country, including Manhattan, Kansas, saw veteran homelessness drop significantly. The policy didn't just offer housing — it saved lives. Housing First isn't complicated: provide people experiencing homelessness with stable housing first, then offer support services — mental health care, job training, addiction treatment — without making sobriety or employment a prerequisite. It's compassionate, cost-effective, and backed by years of bipartisan support and hard data. Yet the new executive order signed by President Trump — and the language and policy posture now emerging from HUD — shifts away from this evidence-based model. Instead, it reframes homelessness as a matter of public disorder and criminality, suggesting that services must now be earned or withheld depending on compliance. This is a dangerous and shortsighted turn. Here in Manhattan, we serve hundreds of low-income households through the Manhattan Housing Authority. Our waiting list is long. Our resources are limited. But our commitment is firm — especially to our veterans. Just down the road, Fort Riley is home to the 1st Infantry Division — The Big Red One. Every year, soldiers transition out of active duty and into civilian life. Many come back with invisible wounds: PTSD, trauma, job insecurity. The very least we owe them is housing. Housing First gave them that chance. Our local success stories include veterans who were on the brink — living in cars, couch surfing, disconnected from care — and who are now stably housed, employed, and contributing to our community. They didn't get better because they were already sober. They got sober because they had a place to sleep and a door they could lock at night. Abandoning this model doesn't just risk undoing progress — it threatens to criminalize poverty and retraumatize the very people we promised to support. I urge Secretary Turner and the administration to reconsider. Instead of dismantling what works, we should invest in expanding affordable housing, supporting local housing authorities, and strengthening partnerships between HUD, the VA, and communities like ours. We need more flexibility in capital funds, not more red tape. We need compassion, not crackdowns. Veteran homelessness is not a moral failure of the individual. It is a policy failure of the state. And right now, we are heading in the wrong direction. The 1st Infantry Division has a proud motto: 'Duty First.' Let's honor that duty by keeping housing first. Aaron Estabrook is the executive director of the Manhattan Housing Authority and a U.S. Army veteran. This article originally appeared on Topeka Capital-Journal: Why is HUD turning its back on homeless veterans? | Opinion Solve the daily Crossword
