Document text
'Curtis was just good' Bob Pennell photo Jared Van Horn of the Griffin Creek Scout Troop adjusts a Memorial Day flag on the grave of Curtis Lee Hilliard at the Eagle Point National Cemetery Friday. "Beloved brother to all,�� reads the inscription on his gravestone. Hilliard died in March in a backwater of Bear Creek, leaving few clues as to the cause of his death. By JESSICA SMITH Curtis Lee Hilliard died cold and alone in a backwater of Bear Creek. His fully clothed, bloated body lay face down in a shallow, overgrown pond for more than a week before anyone noticed it. But how did Hilliard � a recognizable black man who panhandled at the south Medford interchange and a veteran who served his country � end up there? Officially, the cause of his March 3 death is "undetermined." "Was he intoxicated and did he fall into the pond? Was it an accident? I don�t know," said Medford police Lt. Tim George, who worked with investigators in Hilliard�s case. "It�s not one of these cases that have an obvious answer." That investigators have few clues about Hilliard�s death is no real surprise. There are just as many unanswered questions about his life here as a homeless alcoholic. Even those who knew the 51-year-old man best � his neighbors, some of the 600 or so men and women who make their homes under freeway crossings and elsewhere on Jackson County streets � say they know only what Hilliard wanted to tell them. "I�m sure he had troubles of his own, but he kept them inside," said Rick, a friend who declined to give his last name. "Curtis was more into making others feel good." Friends said Hilliard was beyond generous � he even went so far as to give one fellow homeless man his own shoes. The shoes now mark a memorial friends put up in a tree where they regularly gather to visit and drink. "Curtis was just good," said Terry Scott, who met Hilliard in the 1980s when she worked as a maid and he as a custodian at the Red Lion Hotel. "We all loved him." It was Scott and others who reported Hilliard missing. "When Curtis wasn�t around, we called detox, the jail, the district attorney, everywhere," she said. "He wasn�t anywhere." Hilliard�s homeless friends and neighbors were stunned when police found his body nearby. "There�s kind of a family of us out here that are pretty broken up about his death," Rick said. "We�ve all got to help ourselves work through it." Others who didn�t know Hilliard by name likely have wondered whatever happened to the smiling, gray-haired man who had become a fixture at the Barnett Road off-ramp at I-5, where he made a meager living off the kindness of passersby. Hilliard came to the Rogue Valley in 1988, when he decided to set up camp in Medford. By then, Hilliard had left his Richmond, Calif., hometown, where he grew up the youngest of eight children. He served two stints in the U.S. Army in Vietnam. He married, although it�s unclear when; his wife apparently died a few years later. Hilliard worked as a custodian at the Red Lion and Labor Ready in Medford, but friends and family said he hadn�t held down a regular job for several years. "I know he was gifted. I saw some drawings of his when we were younger that were good," said Hilliard�s eldest brother, Frazier, 74, of San Antonio, Texas. But nothing ever came of Hilliard�s flair for art, his brother said. Growing up, Hilliard was an obedient child who "never gave our mother any problems," his brother said. "He never got into any troubles. His problems came as he got older, when he began drinking." Hilliard�s drinking turned to alcoholism, which led to stays at the Medford detox clinic. His drinking problem also prevented him from seeking long-term shelter in the area, investigators and outreach workers said. "He was just one of the fellows we�d see occasionally when he�d come in for a meal," said Bill Gourley, director of the Medford Gospel Mission. "Generally, he camped out. He was a drinker, and you need to be sober if you�re here." Annette Wilson, assistant manager at Barnett Road Shell service station, saw Hilliard two or three times during her shifts. Most times, he was there to buy beer. But sometimes he just wanted to talk. "He really was one of the more polite guys we see in here � even if we refused to sell him beer because he�d had enough," Wilson said. Those who were close to Hilliard say he was the most successful at "flying the sign" at the south interchange, where he panhandled. He made as much as $50 a day, friends said. When Hilliard had money, homeless cats in the area never had to worry about food. Friends had only to ask Hilliard for a cigarette and it was there. "When he had a real good day, he�d take us all out to eat or get a hotel room and we�d all get warm for the night," Rick said. "Beloved brother to all," reads the inscription on the white limestone that marks Hilliard�s grave at the Eagle Point National Cemetery. Three months after Hilliard�s death, someone has moved into his camp spot near the top of the slope under the bridge. Several cot-sized mattresses are wrapped tightly with navy sleeping bags and army-green wool blankets. Forty-ounce Old English beer bottles pile up, waiting to be exchanged for nickels. The dark, cramped space hums when cars and semis rumble overhead. Atop a clean, makeshift table sits a plastic milk jug with forks and spoons and knives. The path between bunk areas is well worn. Friends who reported Hilliard missing noticed after about a week that his neatly made bedroll remained at the camp. If Hilliard had left town, he surely would have taken his things with him, they told police. Officers soon combed through the camp and tall grasses nearby, finding what they hoped they wouldn�t � Hilliard�s body floating in a one-and-a-half-foot-deep drainage ditch about 50 yards from his home. Hilliard�s way of life and his addiction are likely factors in his death, said Lt. George. It�s doubtful Hilliard received regular health care, although he was a resident for a short time in 1998 at the Veterans Affairs Domiciliary in White City. "You have to understand the lifestyle of these guys," George said. "He was sleeping under a bridge out in the elements." An autopsy revealed no signs of illness at the time of Hilliard�s death. The investigation showed no obvious signs of trauma to indicate foul play, George said. Toxicology reports support the conclusion that Hilliard�s death was tied to his drinking, said Dr. Jim Olson, who performed the autopsy. Hilliard didn�t have a car, but if he�d been driving when he died, his blood-alcohol level would have measured at least three times the legal limit. "He wasn�t just a little intoxicated, he was significantly intoxicated," Olson added. "His judgment and coordination would obviously have been substantially impaired." Police say they�ve come to a standstill in the investigation, which included rounding up men and women who knew Hilliard, feeding them and putting them in a motel room while they sobered up for interviews. "We treated this case like we would any other suspicious death," George said. "We chase leads as long and as hard as we can until there�s nothing left to chase." But even the police � who had minor run-ins with Hilliard when he was drinking � are disappointed they�ve been unable to answer more of the questions surrounding his death. "It�s just a sad commentary on how a person�s life ends," George said. "A human being shouldn�t die face down in a backwater of Bear Creek." Obituaries | Sports | Business | Classifieds | Tempo | Prime Times | So Oregon Sites | Outdoor Journal | Subscribe | Contact | Movies | Advertise | Real Estate Showcase | Archive | Editorials | Letters to the editor | Religion | Wake-up Call | NIE | Cyber Chef | Job Network | So Oregon Weather | WSJ Northwest | Forums | AP Wire | AP Money | F.A.Q. | Awards Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. The Community Newspaper Subsidiary of Dow Jones & Co, Inc Copyright �The Mail Tribune 2000, Medford, Oregon USA