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There was a time in the not-so-distant past when utility payments were the last thing on Mallory’s mind. She was living with her two kids out of a car, using drugs to stay alert during the long, harrowing nights.
Paul had been working as a janitor when he suffered a series of debilitating health crises: seven heart attacks and three strokes within a relatively short period of time. He was in and out of hospitals and eventually lost his home in a converted shipping container in Sylmar.
For Deborah, living in a car with her daughter and granddaughter was a source of near-constant stress and shame. And it wasn’t easy to seek help. Deborah feared that, if she called Child Protective Services, the state would rip her children away.