” Welcome to our home. ”
Posted at 5:00 am.
The tone is sarcastic. In the glow of the streetlights we can see Roger Migneault’s bitter smile. With a wave of his hand, he points to an old sand-colored 2011 Chevrolet pickup parked at the back of the huge Belisle truck rest area in Mirabel.
His “home” since May.
During the day, he parks near the Blainville Public Library, where he spends hours reading and doing homework. He has access to a park – his living room – toilets and shops within walking distance. He eats once a day: fast food, cereal, canned ravioli or cold dumplings.
On the days he passes gas, he doesn’t eat anything.
Every evening he travels the seven kilometers along Highway 15 that separates him from the rest stop where he sleeps. As a former trucker, the idea came easily to him. He asked permission from the boss, who agreed on the condition that he set up almost in the field so as not to disturb the heavy vehicles.
PHOTO OLIVIER JEAN, THE PRESS
Roger Migneault
What I’m most ashamed of is that I don’t sleep in my truck. It means forcing me to get out of my truck, lean on a pole, and shit on the ground. Like the animals in the nearby field. My roommates are a donkey, an alpaca and a pony. And the four of us shit on the floor.
Roger Migneault
The rest of Roger’s life is stored in the Chevrolet: blankets, a pillow, a laundry bag, a container of medication, a computer, a few cables.
The vehicle has the advantage of being quite large. If the man sits at an angle, his feet on the back seat and his head on the folded back of the passenger seat, he manages to lie down.
PHOTO OLIVIER JEAN, THE PRESS
The vehicle has the advantage of being quite large. If the man sits at an angle, his feet on the back seat and his head on the folded back of the passenger seat, he manages to lie down.
With the incessant noise of the highway, the noise of planes taking off from the nearby airport and the bright light from the huge street lamps, he hardly sleeps.
Almost 53-year-old Roger Migneault has been living in his car since he was evicted from his apartment. Like more and more Quebecers, we observe homeless people being interviewed by La Presse.
These people are often not part of the statistics. They go unnoticed. Some work. Others receive social assistance. But their income is simply no longer enough to pay the rent. They are the symptom of a worsening crisis, and not just in Montreal.
We are aware that it is increasing. These are people who were close to homelessness. When they lose their home, they find a plan B, then a plan C. Plan D is their car.
Gilles Beauregard, coordinator of the South Shore Roaming Table
These new homeless people have a different, less marginal profile. “Yes, there are some who suffer from consumption or psychological problems, but they managed to stay in an apartment until recently, even if everything was not going well in their lives,” notes Mathieu Frappier, coordinator of Laval Homelessness Network, which sees this as the beginning of “economic homelessness.”
“We have been saying for a long time that the face of homelessness is changing,” adds Julia Ouellet of the Quebec Homelessness Solidarity Network. However, this has been even more true since the real estate crisis. »
A few weeks ago, four cars were parked in front of the Laval emergency shelter. People who used the center’s services during the day before returning to spend the night in their home on wheels.
PHOTO OLIVIER JEAN, THE PRESS
The rest of Roger’s life is housed in the Chevrolet.
At theHalte du Coin, an emergency shelter in Longueuil, workers are currently seeing six transit users living in their vehicles. “We used to have one every now and then,” says Pierre-Luc Dupré, one of the clinical coordinators. People “like you and me, who fall in the streets and don’t want to.” [ou ne peuvent pas, faute de place] live in an animal shelter.”
Roger Migneault’s long decline began seven years ago when he was first evicted. He lived in a basement in Blainville. Rental cost: $500. “The owner asked me to leave to leave the property to his parents. Three months later, I saw online that his place was advertised for $650. »
History repeated itself in three and a half years at $635 per month. After refusing a rent increase, he received two formal notices from the landlord and left. “Two days later the property was advertised for $780. »
He moved to a studio in Saint-Janvier. And the problems piled up.
Unable to drive trucks due to his diabetes, he was laid off from his job as a cook at a CHSLD before the pandemic. He was then diagnosed with two cervical fractures. During COVID-19, he was eligible for the Canadian Emergency Response Benefit (CERB). Then he received welfare, from which the state quickly cut $150 by no longer recognizing his health restrictions on employment. His full support was withdrawn over the winter as he returned to school to pursue a professional degree in graphic design. He is ineligible for loans and scholarships, a program to which he already owes thousands of dollars. He did it anyway. “All my diplomas are no longer of any use to me. I wanted to do something with my life, try a new start. »
PHOTO OLIVIER JEAN, THE PRESS
At the rest area where he spends his nights, Roger sits almost in the field so as not to disturb the trucks.
To make ends meet, he worked a few shifts a week at a noodle shop. He applied for and temporarily received financial support from the city housing authority.
“But I still couldn’t pay for my things. I had to file for bankruptcy. I stopped paying Hydro-Québec. I couldn’t do anything anymore. I didn’t even pay for the meal. People brought me food. »
He was released on May 1, leaving behind almost everything he owned.
A few nights ago Roger lost consciousness. He had gone outside to urinate. He fell while trying to get back into his van. When he woke up, he was lying on the floor.
He called a friend and asked her to stop by every day. He is afraid of dying and that no one will find his body.
The last few months have been physically and mentally exhausting. Roger is diabetic, bipolar and ADHD. He takes a number of medications every day. In the summer he had to throw away insulin several times in the heat because he got too hot.
“What am I doing this winter?” Should I thaw my insulin before injecting? »
The man knocked on all the doors. He asked for help everywhere: from his MP, from organizations, from scholarship programs. But his numerous debts and a previous conviction for an exhibitionist event in 2006 (for which he did not go to prison) are a burden. He wants nothing to do with going to a homeless shelter. He is on the waiting list for social housing.
PHOTO OLIVIER JEAN, THE PRESS
Roger Migneault
There will be no solution. Even if I find accommodation, I don’t have enough money to pay for it. I’m just in the same situation with my debt. How am I supposed to get out of this?
Roger Migneault
Roger Migneault gave up.
He doesn’t even pretend.
PHOTO OLIVIER JEAN, THE PRESS
Roger Migneault has been living in his car since May.
He asked for a doctor’s note to take a break from school. He was so angry that he no longer dared to be around others.
“I don’t understand life. I can’t find my place. »
When asked what his plan is for the winter, he allows himself a long break. His already growling voice becomes muffled, almost muffled.
“There’s a chance I won’t be here anymore.” »
Roger’s monthly budget
income
- $816 average as a self-employed noodle shop worker
- $48.42 from the provincial government
- 81.25 (every three months) from the federal government
Total: $891.50
Cost
- $100 for bankruptcy filing with Ginsberg Gingras
- $33.70 for car insurance
- $20.28 for driver’s license and license plate
- Bank fees of $16.95
- $78.82 for the phone
- Medicines valued at $99.16
- $240 for gas
- $450 for food
Total: $1038.9
Debts
- $649 to Hydro-Québec (collection company in charge of recovering the amount)
- $1,580 in welfare (which took up two months of benefits already paid because he had started school)
- $8,500 for student financing (exact amount to be determined by Ginsberg Gingras)
Do you need help ?
If you need support, are having suicidal thoughts or are worried about a loved one, call 1866 APPELLE (1 866 277-3553). A suicide prevention officer is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week.