homeless people

Abigail Aguirre has been sleeping terribly.

Too many times, she said, residents of a nearby homeless encampment have partied late into the night — sometimes yelling, sometimes blasting music. The noise is especially hard on her husband, who frequently leaves for his job before 5 a.m.

“Oh my God, they don’t let us sleep,” said Aguirre, whose home sits just east of the 110 Freeway in South Los Angeles. “They do drugs in there. They play the loud music. They don’t care.”

Three years ago, workers with Mayor Karen Bass’ Inside Safe program moved dozens of homeless people from Aguirre’s neighborhood into nearby hotels and motels. Sanitation crews cleared the streets and sidewalks of trash.

But more people, and their tents, kept arriving, not just near Aguirre’s home but on many of the east-west streets that pass over the 110 south of downtown: 43rd, 49th, 51st and Vernon Avenue, to name a few.

Unsheltered homelessness — people living on the street or in their vehicles — went up nearly 8% citywide in this year’s homeless count, dealing a setback to Bass, who is running for reelection and has made homelessness a core part of her agenda.

The streets that line the 110 Freeway between 42nd and 58th are a potent symbol of the challenges facing Bass and her program. According to records obtained by The Times, outreach workers carried out Inside Safe operations 25 times on that one-mile stretch during her first three years as mayor, returning again and again to bring people indoors.

Frank Gordon, 51, has been living on Cahuenga Boulevard at the 101 Freeway in Hollywood. Mayor Karen Bass’ Inside Safe program has moved people indoors from that location several times since 2022.

During one operation, Inside Safe brought 42 people inside. A month later, 54 more people came indoors. On other occasions, progress was measured in single digits: two people during one visit, five on another, eight on the next.

Despite those efforts, many of the overpasses and side streets still have encampments. Things have been especially grim on the 51st Street overpass, where tents, makeshift structures and huge mounds of trash lined the sidewalks. In the street, a refrigerator missing a door was on its back, overflowing with garbage.

Joel Galarza, who lives in a house nearby, said the encampment has brought crime, fires, prostitution, open-air drug use and other problems. In May, a man was found stabbed on the overpass.

Galarza said his family has called the city and the LAPD many times, only to see the situation get worse.

“It feels like there’s no more hope, that your voice doesn’t matter,” he said.

Since taking office, Bass has made the removal of street encampments a top priority, arguing that they are unsafe both for unhoused residents and for the neighbors. She said early on that Angelenos will not view her work as a success until their communities are free of tents.

Inside Safe, her signature homeless program, has moved more than 6,200 people into hotels, motels and other interim housing. But by June 30, 43% of them were back on the street, with some getting kicked out and others walking away.

Los Angeles City Councilmember Traci Park, left, and residents of Venice thank Mayor Karen Bass in 2023 for overseeing efforts to move more than 100 people into temporary housing from sidewalks in Venice.

Bass, in an interview, said she understands the frustration of people who live near the encampments. She said she hopes to overhaul the city’s approach to the crisis in the coming months by securing greater control over services such as medical care, addiction treatment and case management.

At the same time, she contends that her administration has made major strides, keeping about 80% of the locations visited by Inside Safe free of tents in recent weeks.

“Inside Safe has been a success in terms of getting people off the streets and clearing encampments,” Bass said. “What Inside Safe has not been able to do is reach the scale that is needed.”

Bass said Inside Safe has conducted 137 encampment operations so far, when many more are needed. To expand the program’s reach, the city will need to move away from expensive hotels and motels and toward high-quality homeless shelters, the mayor said.

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1. A man sits with his belongings on Cahuenga Boulevard under the 101 freeway in Hollywood. (Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times) 2. A torn copy of a notice announcing a cleanup of homeless encampments hangs from a stop sign along Grand Avenue at 51st Street in South Los Angeles. (Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

The repopulation issues have not been limited to the 110 corridor. By December, the end of Bass’ third year, 23 Inside Safe areas across the city — about a fifth of the total at that time — had received at least five visits from the mayor’s outreach team, records show.

Inside Safe went to a handful of streets just east of MacArthur Park 10 times over two years. In Hollywood, around Franklin and Argyle avenues, the program conducted eight operations over 18 months.

By the fourth quarter of 2025, 80% of Inside Safe encampment operations — 36 out of 45 — involved areas that had repopulated, records show. Nine were new to the program.

City Councilmember Nithya Raman, who is running for mayor against Bass, said Inside Safe is ineffective and too expensive, forcing taxpayers to pay a premium to “shuffle people around rather than get them housed for good.”

“When 40% of the people who participated in the program return to homelessness, and some locations need repeat outreach visits five, 10, even 25 times, it tells us that something is wrong,” she said in a statement.

Bass and her team said many of the most problem-plagued Inside Safe locations are at freeway overpasses, which are attractive to homeless people because they provide shelter from scorching summer sun and the winter’s pouring rain. Freeways and industrial areas are also popular because they provide some degree of privacy, they said.

In some cases, people move to an Inside Safe location hoping to be offered housing, just as previous residents were, Bass said.

In other cases, she said, people have returned to the street because they need intensive care, such as a psychiatric bed. Those beds, which are provided by L.A. County, are not always available, Bass said.

Estela Lopez, head of the Downtown Industrial Business Improvement District, which represents businesses in Skid Row, said repopulation happens for a simple reason: a lack of enforcement. Once an encampment is cleared and people are moved indoors, police should be allowed to enforce city laws and make sure an area stays clear, she said.

A pedestrian walks into the street to get around a homeless encampment on Alameda Street. The Inside Safe program went to that area 12 times over a single year.

Lopez said she regularly receives complaints about a row of encampments on Alameda Street between 4th and 6th streets. Inside Safe visited that two-block stretch 12 times last year, records show.

Last month, the area had about a dozen tents, which forced pedestrians to leave the sidewalk and walk on Alameda, where large trucks travel to and from nearby industrial businesses.

Lopez offered another reason that homeless people keep coming back.

“That’s where the drugs are,” she said. “It’s Skid Row, and Skid Row is where the drugs are, and has the fewest consequences for open-air drug use and sales.”

Bass’ first Inside Safe operation, more than three years ago, hit a stretch of Cahuenga Boulevard under the 101 Freeway in Hollywood, an area represented by Raman.

Inside Safe went to Cahuenga and the 101 six times over 18 months, according to the city’s records. Two blocks south, the program made five separate visits to Franklin and Cahuenga.

Frank Gordon said that he and his girlfriend lived in an RV on Cahuenga next to the 101 during the COVID era, when the streets were lined with encampments. Outreach workers eventually moved them into the Stuart Hotel in Westlake, he said.

From there, the couple relocated to the Highland Gardens, a hotel in Raman’s district converted into homeless housing. Gordon said they left the facility after one of their rooms was destroyed in a fire, going to yet another interim housing site.

Last month, they were back at Cahuenga and the 101. He called it “familiar ground.”

Sanitation crews remove belongings from a homeless encampment during an Inside Safe operation on Laurel Canyon Blvd. in North Hollywood in March.

Kevin Paz, who has been sleeping on the 51st Street overpass in South L.A., said he used to live a few blocks away. He still has friends in the area, including high school classmates.

“It made more sense to stay here than to live anywhere else,” he said.

Seated on the overpass on a swelteringly hot day, the 32-year-old said he picked his particular strip of sidewalk for the shade it gets from the elevated 110 Freeway carpool lane. He said he would accept a motel room if offered one.

“Honestly, nobody wakes up in the morning and says, ‘Hey, I wanna go live on that street,’” he said.

Bass’ team has highlighted the scores of locations where encampments have not returned. They pointed to the success of an Inside Safe operation at 6th and Fairfax, where the sidewalk was later narrowed and new landscaping was planted, making it difficult to camp there.

West of downtown, streets and sidewalks also remain clear around Angelus Rosedale Cemetery, where 48 people were brought indoors in April 2025. To keep people from living in their cars at that location, city crews turned a stretch of Washington Boulevard into a no-parking zone, Bass’ team said.

Even some places that had severe repopulation issues are now clear of tents.

In Harbor City, Inside Safe went to the same intersection a dozen times between 2023 and 2025. That location has been free of encampments for 17 months, said Councilmember Tim McOsker, who represents the area.

McOsker credited the mayor’s team, as well as his staff, for going to the location over and over to offer interim housing to new arrivals. He also asked a group that delivers glass pipes and clean hypodermic needles to relocate, saying the service was attracting newcomers to an area that had been cleared.

In Baldwin Hills, Inside Safe workers went to Jim Gilliam Park 14 times over three years. Last week, encampments no longer occupied the grassy area around the tennis courts on La Brea Avenue or the sidewalks along the nearby Michelle and Barack Obama Sports Complex.

Johnnie Raines III, who serves on the local neighborhood council, knows some of the people Inside Safe brought indoors. He said the program has been “life-changing” for them.

Still, Raines, 79, has no illusions about the challenges the city faces.

“If you house these three people that are in this space today, three more will show up,” he said. “That doesn’t mean that you were not successful in housing the first three people. That just means that three more people come.”

Elmer Roldan, who lives in South Los Angeles, points out the spot where an encampment burned on Grand Avenue near 54th Street.

In the neighborhoods that abut the 110 in South L.A., some residents have lost patience.

Elmer Roldan, who lives on 55th Street, said some of his homeless neighbors have been causing fires — sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose. Earlier this year, he called 911 after seeing a man set fire to vines hanging from the freeway’s sound wall.

Roldan, who ran unsuccessfully for City Council in June, said he sees plenty of people living in their vehicles, but fewer tents. Still, he said, it’s been demoralizing to have so many come back.

“I certainly don’t want it to get worse,” he said.

Times staff writer Doug Smith contributed to this report.

An effort to exempt new apartment buildings in Los Angeles from the so-called mansion tax moved forward Wednesday, amid concerns that the tax is suppressing housing construction and making the affordability crisis worse.

In a 9 to 5 vote, the City Council directed the City Attorney to draft a ballot measure that would ask voters to change Measure ULA, which funds subsidized housing construction and homeless prevention efforts by taxing nearly all property sales over $5.3 million.

Once the proposal is drafted, it must come back to council for a final approval to make it onto the November ballot.

Wednesday was the deadline for the council to take the vote and stay on track to make the ballot this fall, said Councilmember Katy Yaroslavsky, who introduced the proposal along with Councilmember Tim McOsker.

“We should protect what is working and fix what’s not,” Yaroslavsky told colleagues before the vote. “If we fail to act today, that door closes.”

The ULA tax, approved by voters in 2022, is known as the mansion tax but applies a 4% tax to nearly all properties — whether they are mansions or not — if they sell for more than $5.3 million, increasing to 5.5% for sales at or above $10.6 million.

Under the proposed ballot measure, the ULA tax wouldn’t apply to multifamily buildings sold within 10 years of construction. There would also be some more technical changes put before voters, including to allow ULA money to be spent on temporary housing for homeless people.

Since ULA passed, apartment construction in Los Angeles has plummeted. Some studies have found that the additional tax on property sales has played a big role in the drop-off by adding extra costs for developers.

That’s led to fears that the tax, in some ways, is making the affordability crisis worse by suppressing new supply.

A coalition of business groups and pro-development activists have been pushing the council to amend ULA, in part hoping that the effort will blunt another possible measure on November’s ballot that would cancel ULA and other similar taxes altogether.

ULA supporters, however, have fought the exemption for new construction and say that other factors — like high interest rates — are the reasons for the multi-year construction drop-off. They also point to a surge in new building during the first three months of this year to argue that it’s too early to know ULA’s long-term impact.

Also on Wednesday, the council, in a unanimous vote, directed the City Attorney to draft a separate ballot measure that would exempt homeowners impacted by the Palisades fire from paying the ULA tax for five years, retroactive to Jan. 7, 2025.

“ULA has been an impediment to the Palisades recovery, leaving properties sitting empty and people mired in tax and regulatory hell,” City Councilmember Traci Park, who represents Pacific Palisades, told colleagues before the vote. “We need to move forward with this exemption.”

Similar to the broader ULA changes, the Palisades changes must receive a second council approval to make the ballot.

Spencer Pratt had a few things going for him when he launched an insurgent campaign to become Los Angeles’ next mayor.

He had a heart-tugging origin story that saw him transform from a has-been television star into one of the thousands of residents who lost their home in last year’s Palisades fire. He faced an unpopular incumbent in Mayor Karen Bass. He was powered by a vigorous social media presence and an angry electorate thirsty for change.

He was able to capitalize on those conditions to outraise his main rivals, Bass and city council member Nithya Raman, and transform his candidacy from an afterthought into a national story. Running as a Republican in a super-blue city like L.A. put him at an automatic disadvantage — one that might have been extremely difficult to overcome in the end. But the Pratt posse started to feel like a bona fide movement the more it thundered on, the type of revolt against the old guard that in previous eras led to the passage of Proposition 13 and the recall of Gov. Gray Davis — the type of movements that forever alter California politics.

Pratt, however, faced an apparently insurmountable obstacle.

Pratt.

With almost all votes counted, he’s going to finish in third place with about 26% of the electorate — the same slice Donald Trump received in 2024 — while Bass and Raman proceed to face each other in November. Political strategists will teach his failed attempt to their clients as a cautionary tale of how a candidate blew every advantage they had when they couldn’t afford to lose one.

Pratt’s first mistake was thinking that Angelenos wanted a campaign of wanton rage. Yes, many residents are furious at the state of the city. Yes, they want change. Yes, the angry Angeleno archetype is a real phenomenon that flares up in local elections to smack back at the powers that be.

But L.A. is not MAGAlandia — running from the right on apocalyptic, whiny messaging will only get you the few Republicans that remain in the city and some disaffected liberals. Pratt didn’t run as a MAGA candidate, but it’s hard to say he didn’t run like one — even as he swore he was running for everyone.

He took every opportunity to ridicule progressives in a city where four democratic socialists sit on the city council, one of them — Raman — has a good chance of becoming the next mayor, and five of the six candidates endorsed by the local chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America either won outright or are moving on to the general election.

Instead of making overtures to that side of the populist coin, Pratt recorded videos obsessing over Bass’ trip to communist Cuba in the 1970s, a well-known fact he treated as revelatory and which made Pratt sound like he was stuck in a John Birch Society meeting circa 1965. His dismissal of Raman as “stupid” and the mayor as “Basura” — trash — came off as facile juvenilia at a time when we already have the Big Juvenile Delinquent running things in the White House. Ridiculing homeless people as “zombies,” “vagrants” and “bums” only riled up the worst elements of the city and turned off anyone with a heart.

Keith Casey of Casey’s Family BBQ serves up food as L.A. mayoral candidate Spencer Pratt hosts a campaign “block party” event on 10th Avenue in Los Angeles on May 20.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

Pratt undoubtedly attracted votes from a good amount of non-MAGA people fed up with various problems afflicting L.A. But many of the supporters who brayed the loudest on his behalf were the same people already doing daily propaganda on social media for a failed, hate-filled president and his baleful cronies.

Pratt acted like he believed the AI-generated videos created by fans that cast him as a comic-book hero was real life instead of forgetting that he was a novice trying to take on two experienced politicians. While Bass and Raman trekked across the city during the primary, Pratt limited his public appearances mostly to the Westside and random encounters with supporters he posted on social media. The few times he appeared outside those safe spaces came off as safari expeditions in a mysterious city the 42-year-old lifelong Angeleno obviously didn’t know.

Take the South L.A. block party he hosted last month. Instead of having something thoughtful to say about the state of Black L.A. or how its political leaders continue to neglect the region, all Pratt seemed to take away from that afternoon was that it was in the territory of the Rollin’ 60s Neighborhood Crips, a detail he shared ad nauseum on social media and to the press — as if kicking it with gang members would fix L.A. or gain him any votes or grant some kind of street cred.

That self-centered cluelessness ended up torpedoing Pratt’s best campaign moment. In the one debate he participated in, Pratt put Bass on the defensive, turned Raman into a tongue-tied mess, kept his answers sharp and relatable, and even earned the praise of the moderators. He should’ve demanded more gatherings like that to flex his mastery of television cameras, make his case to as many Angelenos as possible and showcase the self-proclaimed Pratt Daddy as someone willing to take on hard questions anytime, anyplace, from anyone.

Instead, Pratt declined an invite to their only other scheduled debate and never bothered with the forums civic groups across the city held in order for their members to hear from candidates. Instead, Pratt flew out to New York the week before election day to appear on Fox News.

Sticking to largely sycophantic media who lobbed softball questions hardened his ceiling. Pratt needed to proselytize — not preach to the choir.

The thing is, Pratt made some strong points about the inefficiencies of L.A.’s political status quo and the outrage that is having tens of thousands of people live on our streets. And there’s something appealing about an outsider crashing City Hall, which is way too beholden to sclerotic lifers who can be as clueless about what the city needs as Pratt turned out to be.

Instead, he platformed people who saw L.A. as a hellhole — or “shithole,” as Trump likes to call certain places. It was hard to see what some of Pratt’s loudest and most strident supporters actually thought was worth preserving in the city — but not why they felt he was their man.

In the wake of his loss, Pratt sure hasn’t push back against unfounded claims by too many of his followers and Trump, Vice President JD Vance and House Speaker Mike Johnson that Democrats somehow rigged the election against him. Quite the contrary, Pratt has insinuated on social media that they’re onto something.

That last point reinforces the ultimate reason Pratt could never become L.A.’s next mayor: He really doesn’t believe in L.A.

Angelenos don’t mind haters — it’s the type of city that frustrates residents even on its best days. But one insult residents won’t brook is someone who doesn’t have confidence in better days ahead for the city no matter how dire things may be.

Angelenos can spot a phony from far away — and Spencer, you’re turning out to be phonier than the fake drama on any of the television shows you ever appeared in.

You vowed to leave L.A. if you didn’t win the race for mayor. Maybe you should stay and try to righteously pressure Bass and Raman to make much needed changes. If you do, urge your followers to do the same instead of them pouting and sitting out the mayor’s race.

But if you don’t, well, maybe you never really loved L.A. as much as the City of Angels, warts and all, deserves. And you kind of need to really love L.A. to really fix what ails it.

Step up, or step outta town.

Spencer Pratt is a showboat, a loudmouth, a troll and a self-proclaimed villain who seems willing to say anything in his quest to be the next mayor of Los Angeles.

Little wonder that his critics rolled their eyes when the former reality television star told CNN host Elex Michaelson a few weeks ago that his campaign role model is Jesus Christ, because “he was a politician.” How on earth did Pratt — a man who tosses insults with the ease of someone spitting loogies — come off boasting that his political hero was the Prince of Peace?

But anyone who ridicules the exchange as a blasphemous moment by a deluded wannabe isn’t paying attention — which is exactly the error that has allowed Pratt to storm L.A. politics. He isn’t running on an explicitly Christian message — that would be risky in a city with large Jewish, Catholic and secular constituencies. But the proud born-again evangelical is channeling the zeal of an old-fashioned tent revival, even if some of his rhetoric falls far outside the bounds of the Good Book.

In his recent memoir, Pratt recounted his conversion — actor Stephen Baldwin baptized him in a river during the 2009 season of the reality show “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.” Before that, his Christianity had consisted of wearing a black diamond cross necklace he described as “thirty grand of Jesus bling” bought from a Beverly Hills boutique. Pratt credits his faith with providing direction at a low moment in his life, as he embraced Jesus with such fervor that a pastor told him to stop joining altar calls so much during church services — once was enough.

“I needed the receipt stamped weekly,” Pratt wrote, “like a parking validation, just to make sure it stuck.”

Seventeen years later, he’s still seeking that affirmation.

The memoir comes off as a millennial version of “The Confessions of St. Augustine” — perhaps the most famous literary example of someone who saw their wreck of a life not as a series of mistakes to apologize for but as necessary failures on the road to grace. That’s why Pratt and his followers don’t see his sketchy past as a disqualifier, but rather his biggest strength. Only someone who says he was reborn in the inferno of the Palisades fire could possess the clarity and willpower needed to bring salvation to an accursed land, they argue.

In another era, Pratt would have been a welcome edition to the roster of bombastic Southern California preachers a la Aimee Semple McPherson, Chuck Smith and Gene Scott, as well as radio titans such as George Putnam and John Kobylt. His claims that only he can deliver us from damnation and that we need to repent of City Hall’s status quo at the ballot box are nothing less than a modern-day gospel to his followers. Pratt feels the pulse of L.A.’s civic malaise far better than Mayor Karen Bass or another of his opponents, City Councilmember Nithya Raman. Like any good pastor, he knows how to distill that discontent into soundbites and stories.

That’s why the self-designated “Pratt Daddy” has cast this moment in L.A. history as a modern-day Armageddon, urging voters to wage war against apostates and usher in a Second Coming, lest the city continue its supposed descent into hell. He admits in his memoir to holding “epiphanies and apocalyptic visions” in equal measure — no wonder he told a Canadian podcaster in March that life for him is a “spiritual battlefield” where “however I can be to stop evil at this point feels like a purpose.”

Spencer Pratt is shown on a television while journalists work during the 2026 Los Angeles mayoral debate at Skirball Cultural Center on May 6.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Far from me to criticize someone’s faith. But I urge Pratt to reacquaint himself with the words of the messiah in whose path he professes to follow. Humility, frugality, turning the other cheek — it’s what Jesus taught and what Pratt has long rejected.

Nowhere does Pratt need more of refresher on Jesus’ lessons than when it comes to homeless people.

Instead of offering compassion or viable initiatives, Pratt consistently calls the unhoused “zombies,” “vagrants,” “drug addicts” and “bums,” with a particular fixation on the naked ones. He vowed to ABC 7 recently that he would push people off L.A.’s streets and onto federal land — like herding stray wildlife. The mayoral hopeful added that “scam homeless nonprofits” exacerbate homelessness, which must have been news to Scripture-based organizations such as the Los Angeles Catholic Worker, Union Rescue Mission and the Salvation Army, which have been trying to help homeless people since before Pratt was born.

Pratt also told ABC 7 reporter Josh Haskell that most of L.A.’s homeless are not locals.

“These people, when I unplug them … they’re all going to Seattle, where the mayor will welcome them,” Pratt proclaimed.

Jesus would not only roll out the welcome mat for homeless people — he would embrace them.

Spencer, what New Testament book says that your crude campaign against the most destitute among us is holy?

Christ never looked down on itinerants, famously saying, “The Son of man hath not where to lay his head.” In the Book of Mark, when Jesus sent his disciples out into the world, he told them to bring no food or money, because good people would take care of them.

“And if any place will not welcome you or listen to you, leave that place and shake the dust off your feet as a testimony against them,” Jesus said.

Christ did do some name calling, but his ire was directed at the powerful, the braggarts, the hypocrites — the Pratts of his time. The Nazarene saved his kindest words for the meek, the poor, the peacemakers — who are sorely lacking in Pratt’s caravan of disaffected liberals, Trumpers and the wealthy. Christ didn’t offer counsel to the comfortable but to outcasts — lepers, prostitutes, people possessed by demons or afflicted with disease — whose modern-day contemporaries live on our streets and whom Pratt World blames for all of L.A.’s ills.

Jesus especially embraced outsiders — the Canaanite woman he initially compared to a dog because she sought help for her daughter, the Samaritan lady at the well, the Roman centurion in the Book of Matthew of whom Jesus proclaimed, “I have not found so great faith” anywhere in Israel. Pratt would have rounded up all of them in donkey carts and dumped them in Babylon, if he had been around back then.

I understand how frustrating it is to see homeless encampments in neighborhoods and to deal with unhoused people who disrupt one’s day, as my wife does at her restaurant in Santa Ana. But whenever annoyance gets the better of me, I remember what Jesus told his followers: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me,” warning that he would keep this in mind on Judgment Day.

Those who didn’t take his advice? “Depart from me, ye cursed,” Christ thundered, “into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.”

Christianity — and good society — calls for us to look to our better angels, not to demonize others, as Pratt regularly does. He knows this too.

“When the whole world hates you,” Pratt wrote, “it’s comforting to think at least the big guy upstairs has your back, so long as you repent.”

But repentance means admitting you’ve done wrong. Instead, Pratt is doubling down on his anti-homelessness nastiness as more and more people join his crusade.

Let’s see how many Angelenos embrace this false prophet on election day.