Joel Romeo, right, and long-time friend Max Wallace. Romeo visits Wallace at his work in Ballards Bop Street Records around four times per day.
Joel Romeo, right, and long-time friend Max Wallace. Romeo visits Wallace at his work in Ballard’s Bop Street Records around four times per day. Courtesy of Max Wallace

Joel Romeo is running out of time to find a place to live.

Romeo, who is mute and has autism, is a beloved Ballard resident who has lived in the neighborhood since the late 1980s. Earlier this month, Romeo, 67, found out that he was being kicked out from his apartment for “hoarding” and would have to move out by the end of August, says Max Wallace, one of his close friends.

Wallace set up a GoFundMe campaign last week to help Romeo pay for his moving and housing costs. As of Friday morning, supporters donated nearly $17,400 to the fundraiser.

But writing Romeo a check isn’t the solution to his housing problem—that could actually make it worse, says Stacy Gillett, executive director of the Arc of King County, which advocates for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities.

If Romeo receives all the money raised to help him, he could lose his state-provided health and housing benefits due to a restrictive Medicaid law. Currently, people who receive supplemental security income (SSI), SSI for people with disabilities, food stamps, and/or Medicaid may not have more than $2,000 in income, per a federal rules. This limitation is a national problem that forces people with disabilities to live at the poverty line, which can prevent them from engaging with their communities and living fulfilling lives, she explains.

Wallace told The Stranger that he’s trying to find a workaround to get the donations to Romeo, such as setting up a trust fund. But that’s still a complicated process.

According to Gillett, Romeo is too old to be the recipient of a Developmental Disability Life Opportunity Trust, which would prevent the donations from being counted as income for anyone below age 65. There is a chance Romeo could qualify for a Private Professional Needs Trust, but someone would need to administer the trust, she says.

The laws are frustrating for organizations like the Arc because they can “discourage good Samaritans” from trying to help people like Romeo, says Gillett.

In July, the Arc helped pass the ABLE Act, which allows families of people with disabilities to set up savings that don’t affect their eligibility for public benefits. But that might not yet be available to people for the next 18 months because it is a new law, says Gillett.

In the meantime, Romeo is facing two stark options: Being institutionalized or becoming homeless.

Although his friends helped clear out some of his belongings—decades of records and artwork—Romeo is still being kicked out by his landlords, Jim M. Olsen and his wife, Mary Dombrowski, who have owned and managed the building since the 1980s.

Dombrowski says she and her husband receive $711 from the Seattle Housing Authority (SHA) and $263 from Romeo for his monthly housing expenses.

Romeo’s basement unit in their apartment building did not pass an evaluation with the SHA, says Dombrowski, who lives on Bainbridge Island with her husband. The SHA oversees the upkeep of Section 8 housing to make sure homes are in livable condition for tenants. Dombrowski told The Stranger that there was mold on the walls and rotten food inside Romeo’s apartment and Olsen, who does all of the building maintenance, was unable to fix broken windows because of the surrounding clutter. Dombrowski says that Romeo’s hoarding is a major barrier to making the necessary fixes to comply with the SHA. He would have to remove all of his belongings and move out of his apartment for months in order for her husband to to clean, replace flooring, and paint, among other repairs, she says.

“I know his friends tried to help clean up, but it wasn’t enough. They basically just put stuff on the porch. It’s a catch-22,” she says. “It puts us in a bind because we can’t pass the inspection.”

With his large community of supporters and friends, Dombrowski says someone should be able to offer up a spare room to house Romeo.

Wallace says he and some friends are in the process of moving Romeo’s belongings to a storage unit. He believes Romeo’s landlords are trying to get rid of him so they can sell their building. According to a report from the King County Assessor’s Office, as of 2016, the value of Dombrowski’s and Olsen’s property is $651,000—a $573,400 increase since they bought the property in 1980s.

Dombrowski denies Wallace’s claim, saying that she and her husband do not plan to ask their three other tenants to vacate or to sell the building.

“We’re one of the last places providing low-cost, affordable housing. We’re one of the last hold outs and we don’t have any plans to do anything different,” says Dombrowski.

She claims the Arc and Romeo’s case workers have not done enough to get him to clear out his apartment. “Joel can’t make decisions like that because he doesn’t have the competency,” she says. “Joel needs a fresh start.”

Although Romeo can be a difficult tenant, he is competent, says Gillett with the Arc.

“He chooses his own lifestyle. He’s very clear with the independent with what he wants. It’s an awesome thing for me to see because people like Joel would be institutionalized,” she says. “The Arc is there to support Joel, but Joel is his own guardian. We’re not going to walk in and take stuff away without permission. In our world, the world of intellectual and developmental disability, that’s our last resort.”

Although Romeo’s supporters have offered his landlords money from the GoFundMe campaign to make the necessary repairs to the building, “they still don’t want to cooperate,” Gillett says.

When asked about whether she was offered money to make the repairs, Dombrowski confirms that she was, but says that, ultimately, moving Romeo out for three months for cleaning and building maintenance would be too much for him and that a new start would be beneficial for him.

Gillett thinks Dombrowksi’s idea of a “fresh start” is misguided. Moving him from the place that has been his home for the last two decades and possibly separating him from his tight-knit community could be incredibly disruptive, she says.

“We appreciate that the landlord may need a fresh start, but a ‘fresh start’ for Joel may mean homelessness, instability, and significant trauma in his life,” says Gillett.


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