The Family of a Homeless Hate Crime Victim Speaks Out

Tonight, thousands of people across the United States will sleep on the streets. The situations that led them there are varied and complicated; each person has their own unique story. At the same time, violent attacks against people living without a home in the U.S. are on the rise. Yet, few families of homeless hate crime victims have spoken out about the tragedy of losing a loved one twice; once to life on the streets, and again at the hands of extreme violence. Until today.

Holly Case's uncle, Daniel Case, was the victim of an attack by two teenagers in February in Bradenton, Florida (read the original story here). She writes on behalf of her family about how her uncle's life and needless death have affected her family.

By Holly Case

As I sit down to write this, it has been six months since my uncle, Daniel Case, was murdered. My uncle was homeless off-and-on for the last 10 years. The night he was murdered started just like any other night for him: taking shelter behind a local business instead of a homeless shelter. Unfortunately, this made him incredibly susceptible. Two teenagers (known gang members) violently assaulted him and he succumbed to those injuries. They left him behind the business, him screaming as they ran off.

The reaction towards my family following that night has typically been "Why was this man living on the streets? How could his family allow that? How could you not help him get off the streets?" I am writing this to help answer those questions and to give a little bit of perspective on our situation (an all-too-common one.)

I should start out by giving you a little background of my uncle: he was born in 1950, the second oldest of seven children. He played football in high school and served his country in the Army in Vietnam. Unfortunately, his time in Vietnam changed him as a person; after returning, he suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and would have night terrors almost nightly. During these night terrors, he would suffer flashbacks and re-live the terror of the war: shouting, "Take cover!", and picking up furniture to hide behind. This ordeal was not only traumatic for him, but also quite scary for his family. He had three girls and a wife at home who dealt with this on a regular basis.

Dan started drinking to battle the night terrors. He drank to pass out; in his state of unconsciousness, he would not have to deal with the terrors. Eventually he built up an alcohol tolerance and the drinking lost its efficacy. He ended up divorced and living in Florida, while his girls, Erin, Amy, and Danielle, stayed in Ohio with their mom.

When he did become homeless (after losing his job because of an injury,) he was determined to make it on his own. He was stubborn and retained his pride; he refused to accept help from anybody. His daughters offered numerous times to let him live with them, but he always respectfully declined, citing that he did not want to be "a burden." He would go to the Salvation Army for dinner, but most often chose to sleep on the street so that someone else could have that spot in the shelter. All he ever asked for from anybody was beer, and when he was in the mood for it, company. He rarely asked for money. He just wanted to talk with someone.

In the months leading up to his death, things were starting to look up. He had a hearing set up so that he could start receiving VA benefits. He had been trying to save up money so that he could live in the apartment above the business behind which he was had been staying (he had actually worked out a deal with that business, where he would help them unload trucks in exchange for sleeping behind their building and getting his mail delivered there.) Most recently, and by far the most tragic, is that he had finally agreed to move back to Ohio to live with his daughters; he was to leave in the next couple of weeks. He was finally starting to piece his life back together when two selfish teenagers ripped that away from him.

I do not want to go on ad nauseam about how he will never get to see his grandkids grow up or the multitude of other experiences of which the teens robbed him and his family. The point of this is simply to point out why we "did not help". Simply put, he did not want it.

Not every homeless person wants gratuitous handouts. Sure, they appreciate a meal, a conversation, or a place to sleep that night. However, many feel as though they should provide their own means to get back on their feet as much as possible. Living on the streets is by no means easy. Nevertheless, some people do choose that life; I know my uncle did.

Thanks to Erin Case, Amy Case, Danielle Case, and Bob Case for their help preparing this story.

Pictures below provided by the author.

(Above: Daniel Case with the author's father, Bob Case, as children.)

(Above) Daniel Case was a Vietnam veteran who served in the Army during the Vietnam War.

(Above) Daniel Case played football in high school.

(Above) Daniel Case with his wife and children, including Kim and daughters Danielle, Erin, and Amy.

(Above) Daniel Case.

(Above) Memorial in Bradenton, Florida at the site where Daniel case was murdered.