People at an outdoor area: a woman with a dog, an officer walking, a person texting, and another resting on a green table under a canopy. A brick wall serves as the background.
Police and neighborhood denizens mingled at the opening of the 'Triage Center' at Sixth and Jesse streets on Feb. 7, 2025. Photo by Abigail Van Neely.

Neighbors noticed something different about Sixth Street today. Hours after a pop-up law enforcement “triage center” began operation at a parking lot on Jessie Street, the corridor infamous for its open-air drug market already seemed quieter than usual. 

Cleaning solution from the Department of Public Works pooled alongside the curb, and the air smelled faintly of Irish Spring soap. Most pedestrians went about their day, though there were some clues this was not an average city block: A few people lugged open and overflowing suitcases down the sidewalk while others stood to the side, crumpled over. 

At present, Mayor Daniel Lurie’s new triage center includes a row of white tents, a folding table with free refreshments, and another table where homeless residents can inquire about a bus ticket home. 

A few workers from Code Tenderloin, a nonprofit that serves people facing unemployment, addiction or homelessness, were present. There were also a few staffers from the Department of Emergency Management, firefighters, and a handful of police officers standing by. No arrests had been made at the center yet.

People gather at outdoor tents with tables, one person resting on a bench. With city buildings visible in the background, the scene resembles a casual triage setup amid an urban landscape.
A few people rest on the picnic tables at the newly converted sixth street triage center. Photo on Feb. 7, 2025 by Abigail Van Neely.

By noon, after the Homeless Outreach Team moved several people off the street, a worker said, activity had slowed. The sun was out, and the handful of picnic tables set up under the tents were occupied by just two people. One was asleep. The other spread his belongings across the tables until he was asked to be more respectful of the space.

In the last four hours, some 50 people had wandered by, according to one of the workers on site. 

Across the street, a man with a large wound on the back of his head allowed the waistband of his pants to fall around his knees. He was soon escorted away by a firefighter, who brought over Bevita biscuits that had been laid out in the center. 

Amidst the vibrant cityscape, people cross the street, one draped in reflective material, reminiscent of a triage blanket. The backdrop of colorful buildings and dynamic street art adds an artistic flair to the urban scene.
A firefighter, member of the Homeless Outreach Team, and paramedic escort a man with an open wound across Sixth Street on Feb. 7, 2024. Photo by Abigail Vân Neely.

Code Tenderloin workers said they had been handing out hot beverages, snacks, and ponchos since around 8 a.m. Friday. “Free coffee!” Tabari Morris announced from a folding chair outside the entrance. 

A person in a jacket and hat sits on a small chair, overseeing triage efforts on the sidewalk near a gate. A red brick wall with a satellite dish looms in the background, adding an urban touch to the scene.
Tabari Morris advertises free coffee to passersby. Photo on Feb. 7, 2025 by Abigail Van Neely.

Morris said that most of those who came by were intrigued by the free refreshments or wanted shelter from the morning rain. About 20 of them had asked about services, estimated Trenton Cappell, also with Code Tenderloin. They were referred to the Homeless Outreach Team. 

“Curiosity” was the main reaction of people checking out the newly fenced-off area, Morris said. 

From behind the snack table, Cappell explained what was happening: The city was “policing people,” “offering services,” and “sending people home.” 

Cappell also shared his personal experience: “I cleaned myself up and started working,” he said while handing out wooden stirrers and packs of sugar. “Anybody could do it. If I could do it, I know anybody could do it.” Visitors nodded their respect. 

“Do you need to get home?” Cappell sometimes asked. Behind him, at another folding table, sat a representative from the Journey Home program, who could offer people bus tickets out of the city. Further back stood a handful of police officers. 

One man took him up on the offer. After a couple of months in San Francisco, he said he was trying to kick his addiction and get back to his kids — and his treatment program — in Santa Cruz. 

“Some people are skeptical. Some people are suspicious. Some people feel challenged,” said Cappell. “It’s a challenge for people because, I mean, look at all the homelessness. This is a crisis.”

An elderly man in a black beanie and jacket stands smiling with eyes closed, against a red brick wall and blurred urban background, while the city quietly conducts its own triage.
John Earle, came from the Bayview to the triage center. Photo on Feb. 7, 2025 by Abigail Vân Neely.

“Seen it before,” repeated John Earle, who had come from the Bayview. “They got to do more.” 

Earle pointed out that other organizations, like the nearby Hospitality House, also offer free coffee. He suggested that the services be offered at different times, not just during the day. It is not yet clear what the center’s hours of operation will be, though the mayor’s office has insisted it will be a 24/7 affair. On Friday, those there expected to be on site until 11 p.m. 

“We’re still working on the 24-hour concept,” said assistant police chief David Lazar at a town hall on Tuesday. “We’re working with all our partner agencies to determine everyone’s role and when we can get down there.”

A tattooed hand delicately triages between a small paper cup and a filled coffee cup resting on the table beside a soap dispenser.
Adam Guidry pours sugar into his coffee. Photo on Feb. 7, 2025 by Abigail Van Neely.

As he poured packets of sugar into his paper cup, Adam Guidry, a neighbor, said he came for the coffee, but didn’t plan to return. He doubted whether the center would clean up the area. After all, he said, “They sell drugs right across from the police station.” 

Guidry added that he’d like to see more safe-consumption sites to get drug use “away from kids and families,” if people are going to use regardless. 

An earlier Tenderloin crisis center set up by former mayor London Breed essentially operated as a safe-consumption site, but then came down. 

Sammy Sterio, who came in looking for a case manager to help him get his son out of the foster system, joked that they could also provide donuts. A Code Tenderloin worker came to meet with him. 

“I think it’s pretty cool that they have it in this area,” said Charity Everett, who had dropped in with her dog, Babygirl. “People here don’t have a whole lot … so this is a safe space to come.” 

A person kneels beside a black dog playing with a pink toy, set against the textured red brick wall. The scene exudes a sense of calm and focus, as if engaged in a gentle triage of joyful moments.
Charity Everett lines up for coffee with her dog, Babygirl. Photo on Feb. 7, 2025 by Abigail Vân Neely.

Outside a corner store across from the center, Sean Jackson asked what was happening.

“So they arrest people there, put them in there, help them get back home and get the fuck up out of here?” Jackson laughed. “I love it.” If he needed services and lived in the area, he added, he would go inside. 

A man in a black beanie and jacket stands on a bustling city street, the red pedestrian signal in the background, as if waiting for his moment amidst the urban triage.
Sean Jackson catches a glimpse of the new center on Feb. 7, 2025. Photo by Abigail Vân Neely.

Byron Carter, a neighbor walking past the lot, said, “Because it’s new, people are fearful, because it seems like there’s a huge police presence.” He expressed concerns about the mindset of the staff, especially if they were not from the community, and SFPD’s goal of making arrests more efficient.

“I hope that people aren’t filling up 850 Bryant because of it,” Carter said, referring to the city jail. “Fill up more treatment centers.” 

Now that Mayor Lurie is in office, he added, the city is paying more attention. Of all the places he’s lived, Sixth Street is where Carter has been peddled the most drugs. Today, he noted, the street seemed much cleaner. 

He was cautiously optimistic: “I believe it’s going to be a good thing. I don’t know why it took so long, and I hope it’s not just publicity.” 

A man wearing a San Francisco Giants cap and graphic hoodie stands on a bustling city street, blending into the urban triage of buildings and cars around him.
Byron Carter walks past the new triage center. Photo on Feb. 7, 2025 by Abigail Vân Neely.

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I'm covering criminal justice and public health. I live in San Francisco with my cat, Sally Carrera, but I'll always be a New Yorker. (Yes, the shelter named my cat after the Porsche from the animated movie Cars.)

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4 Comments

  1. Thank you for the reporting.
    A positive step.
    Law and order and services
    Centralized
    For drugs it is a supply and demand issue

    Hopefully the persons in need of help just didnt move over another block or to a different block?

    Hopefully this will expand to other areas. The Lower Polk Street area has been ignored and neglected for years .
    The drug dens continue there .

    Anyone who opposes helping prevent crime and offering services rather then enabling the harm is cruel and selfish.

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  2. I think you all are doing a great job and appreciate all the effort to provide local news to the local community’s.

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