Guest comment: My friend died trying to navigate weak public assistance programs. Now, they’re being cut further.

I am writing with a heavy heart to share the story of my friend Phillip, someone who fought every day to survive in a system that repeatedly failed him. Phillip was a severe epileptic, a condition that resulted from an allergic reaction to chemotherapy when he was a child battling a rare form of leukemia. He survived cancer but was left with lifelong seizures.  

Despite his disability, Phillip never wanted to rely on the system. He lived off his small Supplemental Security Income and food stamps, finding odd jobs online to afford necessities like clothing and a bus pass. If he couldn’t afford the bus, he walked. He believed in making his own way, no matter how difficult. 

For six and a half years, I watched him struggle to gain financial independence. During this time, he moved in with me and we became close. Our goal was to help him reach an independent life where he didn’t have to rely on anyone else for support. He wanted to work, but finding an employer who would accommodate his epilepsy was nearly impossible. When Nevada Vocational Rehabilitation helped him get a job at McDonald’s, they assigned him to the drive-thru during the busiest hours. The high-stress environment triggered frequent seizures at home. He began experiencing grand mal seizures at least once a week. These episodes could last up to five minutes, leaving him convulsing on the floor, unable to speak and struggling to breathe.  

Still, he was determined to keep the job, hoping it would be his path to independence. But one weekend, he had three major seizures. The last one ended with him hitting his head on the washer while home alone. I found him lying there, bleeding, arriving just as he was coming to. That night, we had a long conversation, and he finally accepted that, for the sake of his safety, he had no choice but to quit.  

Still, he never stopped trying. He volunteered with advocacy groups, cleaned up roadsides, and encouraged others to use their voices to create change. But the financial burden of surviving on his SSI payment of $750 a month became unbearable. When our rent jumped from $775 to $1,325, his income remained the same. He was stuck in a system that did not account for the rising cost of living, and I had no choice but to take on second jobs to cover his portion of the increase.  

He eventually accepted that he needed more help and applied for housing assistance, but as a single middle-aged male, he was placed at the bottom of the priority list. He waited over two years for an interview with the Reno Housing Authority for Section 8 assistance. Two years— just for an interview. But he never made it. Three months before that appointment, Phillip died.  

He had been saving furniture for the day he finally had a place of his own, collecting discarded but usable items. When he suffered a seizure in his small room, he became trapped in his belongings and suffocated to death. At the time, he was studying to become a pharmacy technician. He was still trying to build a better life for himself. Phillip’s death was not just a tragedy. It was the result of a broken system that continues to fail the most vulnerable. He needed affordable housing, job accommodations and sufficient medical care. Instead, he was given endless waitlists, impossible choices and no real solutions.  

Now, as lawmakers move forward with slashing budgets for our assistance programs even further, I ask: How many more people will be forced to live—and die—like Phillip? How many more lives will be lost to bureaucracy and indifference? Phillip would be appalled that there is even a discussion about reducing these programs when they were already inadequate. I have been told that losing these programs is “never going to happen,” but I think it’s time that we all realize that “never” is no longer a possibility. It’s real. I have sat in on the public Nevada Medicaid meetings, and there are cuts coming down the line in 2026 that make everyone nervous.  

This isn’t just about numbers in a budget. It’s about real people who need real help. Cutting assistance programs is a death sentence for those who are already fighting to survive. If we truly value human life, we must fight for policies that protect and support people like Phillip. We owe them more than just our condolences.  

We owe them action. 

Jessica Fry (widely known as JFry) is a local Nevadan who has spent her entire life working in the service of others. She continues to care for Phillip’s dog, Maddie, taking her on many adventures that he was never able to.