HUFFINGTON
08.19.12
TAMPA’S MAVERICK COP
feuds. Gil Sainz, a sergeant in the
Hillsborough sheriff’s department
who worked alongside Donaldson
15 years ago, said, “Ninety-nine
point nine percent of the things
that we deal with as patrol deputies on a day to day basis are all
the ills of society. Sometimes
when that’s all that you see, you
come to believe that that’s all that
there is. Sometimes after a while
it weighs on your soul.”
When Donaldson started, he was
filled with “vim and vigor,” a feel-
ON ANY GIVEN NIGHT
IN THE U.S., MORE
THAN 600,000
PEOPLE SLEEP ON
THE STREETS, IN
THE WOODS, IN THEIR
CARS, IN PARKS AND IN
HOMELESS SHELTERS
-- A POPULATION
LARGER THAN THAT OF
WASHINGTON, D.C.
ing that lasted roughly two years.
As the novelty wore off, supervisors
grew concerned. He’d lose his temper with old ladies, roll his eyes at
departmental procedures. “I was an
asshole,” he said. Sainz put it more
kindly. ‘”I knew he was burnt out
and he just wanted to come in, do
the 12 hours and go home.”
Donaldson’s marriage buckled
and eventually collapsed under
the strain. As he now says about
life on the streets, “One man
becomes an island all to themselves.” Sainz climbed the ranks
of the department, became Donaldson’s supervisor and began
looking around for a task that
his friend might find challenging.
Then the word came down about
the homeless problem. Many
advocates questioned Florida’s
spending priorities, and so did
Sainz: Budget cuts had virtually
eliminated funding for agencies
that dealt with mental health issues. Clearly those groups could
use all the help they could get, so
Sainz set up meetings between
them and Donaldson.
Donaldson says he sensed “an
opportunity” in the assignment,
but his ideas didn’t really begin to
take shape until few months later,