'It deemed us homeless': Coronavirus forces Mississippi family to live in a tent

The Richardvilles planned to move to New Orleans. Then came a family tragedy and the pandemic.

Luke Ramseth
Mississippi Clarion Ledger

MOSS POINT — A 10-person Ozark Trail tent goes for $129 at Walmart. 

The Richardville family bought one and lived in it for a month as the coronavirus upended their lives in March. They pitched it on a grassy patch of land next to a friend's house. They coated it with Scotchguard to keep out the rain, and hoped it wouldn't collapse in high winds. 

Just weeks before, Brandy, Anthony and their five children had been living in a spacious two-story apartment. Then came a death in the family, and then the pandemic, and now the couple found themselves out of work and desperately waiting on unemployment benefits or a stimulus check. 

They relied on a local church for food. They showered at a nearby truck stop. They played cards with their friends, who were also jobless, to pass the time. 

"I have tried repeatedly to file claims and get some kind of help," Brandy emailed a Clarion Ledger reporter on April 5. "no work, no money, no food, no house ... please help."

The family has since moved into an old RV. But like so many Mississippians now months into the pandemic, a deep uncertainty about the future lingers. When will Brandy get to start her new career full-time? When can Anthony return to a normal work schedule? Could COVID-19 cases and deaths surge again, causing another economic shutdown? 

"It deemed us homeless," Anthony said of the virus. "There were nights when we didn't eat, to make sure (the chlldren) ate ... This COVID thing, it took a toll on every one of us."

A death in the family

Earlier this year, the Richardvilles planned to start a new life in New Orleans.

Brandy, 43, would begin her new career as a police officer, a long-held goal. She needed to complete several final tests before entering training. Anthony, 37, would find a job using his diverse construction skills. Their four youngest children would move south with them from the small north Mississippi town of Tremont. 

It felt a little crazy, moving to the big city where they knew nobody. But they'd saved money and downsized their belongings. They were ready.

"We've been together for 18 years, so we try to back each other," Anthony said. "She wants to be an officer? It's not a dream of mine, but it's a dream of hers, so it becomes a dream of mine." 

But in late February, as they finalized plans to travel south, Brandy's mother's health quickly deteriorated. The family followed along to offer support as she transferred from hospital to hospital in Alabama, before eventually being admitted to a facility in Atlanta. 

Brandy and Anthony Richardville sit outside of their RV with three of their five children, Romen, 17, Joediah and Revyn, 8, in Moss Point, Miss., May 26, 2020.

Days later, she died of lung cancer. Nobody knew she’d had it. Brandy’s father and brother had died in recent years, and now it was her mom. But there was no time to grieve, she said, only to plan the next steps. 

Having departed their jobs in the construction industry for the move, and to care for Brandy's mother, the couple's savings quickly evaporated. There were travel expenses, the cost of transferring the body back home, the funeral. 

Still, the family decided to push on to New Orleans. The paychecks would start up again soon and they would be fine, they told each other. They made plans to visit old friends in Moss Point, where they used to live, along the way. 

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As they paused in the Coast city for a few days, the coronavirus slammed the U.S. New Orleans, a virus hotspot, was effectively shut down. The city’s police department halted its hiring process, Brandy said. Construction jobs for Anthony disappeared. There was nowhere to go, and funds were running dangerously low.

As they sat in their car in a parking lot near Moss Point, Brandy and Anthony said they came to a decision: They would buy the tent and some other camping supplies like a cooler, stove and three inflatable mattresses. Then they would wait it out. 

Jobs lost due to coronavirus

Kenneth Cauley and his wife live in a small camper trailer just off Highway 63 in Moss Point. Next door is a tan and red-trimmed rental house where eight more relatives live, including his parents and sister. 

By the time the Richardvilles set up their tent in his yard, Cauley had lost his job as a security guard at Walmart, after the store cut back hours due to the virus. Cauley's dad and brother-in-law, who work in construction and remodeling, found themselves suddenly jobless as well. 

Kenneth Cauley, a friend of the Richardvilles, invited them to stay on his land while they were homeless. Cauley lives with his wife and eight other family members on the property.

But Cauley said he didn't hesitate to invite another big family, his friends, to camp out for a few weeks on the wooded property.

"I've been in that situation, and it's hard," the 30-year-old said. "In the past I've had to stay in a shelter before. Life's not always what you expect. Sometimes it happens, you know?"

Only Cauley's wife held onto her job, also at Walmart, stocking shelves. He said it probably kept the family from moving into a tent themselves. Yet as more positive cases cropped up at work, she worried she would bring the virus home and infect one of the family who has preexisting health conditions, Cauley said. She decided to take two weeks off, unpaid, as positive cases spiked. 

"She didn't want to get her family sick and have them end up dying, because she was trying to make money," he said, adding his mother and one of his nephews have lung problems.  

The Richardville family of seven lived in a tent on a plot of land at their friend's home in Moss Point, Miss., pictured here May 26, 2020. The family was homeless for weeks, and now lives in an RV.

"If they would just fire her, she would make more money on unemployment than actually what she makes there," he said. "The only bonus they get is like $150 every few months. So they're basically putting their lives on the line for nothing." 

For food, the two families often turned to a local church, the Shepherds House Ministry, which runs a small unofficial pantry. 

Darlene Hicks, who co-pastors with her husband, Steve, said 20 people might need assistance in a normal week with food, or clothing, or paying their light bill. That number had swelled to 30 or more as the virus began to spread. That’s about as big as their congregation itself.

A cardboard sign from Shepherds House sits in Cauley’s front yard. An identical one is attached to the Richardville’s camper. It reads: “You’re Not Alone. Your Church Loves You!”

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'More and more stressful every day'

For the Richardvilles, the tent camping period ended when they received their coronavirus stimulus checks from the federal government. It was enough to buy a used 25-foot travel trailer and rent a shady spot at a nearby RV park. 

The trailer offered better shelter from the elements, though not much more space for such a large family. Brandy and Anthony’s children include 8-year-old Revyn, as well as three younger boys, Jerrion, 11, Joediah, 12, and Kasin, 13, plus 17-year-old Romen, who was staying with the family again during the pandemic after returning from a job-training program in Kentucky. 

Anthony got to work retrofitting the camper. He built a bunk bed and turned a kitchen counter into a sleeping space. 

“It’s super small, it’s super vintage, but it works,” Brandy said in late April.

Meanwhile — like thousands of other Mississippians — the couple struggled to obtain their unemployment benefits from an overwhelmed state system. In early April, Brandy said she started to become desperate — would independent contractors like her and her husband qualify for help? Why couldn’t she get through the clogged phone lines to the state’s unemployment office? 

Brandy Richardville and daughter, Reyvn, 8, play together in their RV in Moss Point, Miss., May 26, 2020.

She eventually received the assistance — “that’s what we’re living off right now,” she said — but Anthony couldn’t seem to get his hands on his benefit funds, even after he was approved in mid-April. Late last month, more than six weeks after applying, he said he received his first payment. But now it didn’t include back pay for all the weeks of delays, as government officials had promised. 

More:'Get something done': Mississippians express frustration over unemployment system

While waiting on unemployment, Anthony tried to find whatever little odd jobs he could to make a few bucks and support the family. He repaired someone’s lawn mower, replaced a car fuel pump and fixed up someone’s trailer in the RV park.

By mid May, another month of the pandemic behind them, the couple managed to purchase a larger camper for $3,000. It was in far worse shape than the first, but Anthony again got to work improving it. The counters need to be fixed. A toilet malfunction flooded the hallway. There was a gas leak. 

The Richardville family of seven currently lives in an RV after losing their home due to unforeseen circumstances and the COVID-19 outbreak, pictured here May 26, 2020.

"We buy what we can buy, then upgrade it, and resell it, and get something bigger," Anthony said. 

It was this drive for improvement, even with almost no money, that got the Richardvilles out of the tent. But it has also taken its toll.

"It's getting more and more stressful every day." Anthony said last week. “At least we're dry, we got a bed to sleep in, and we can cook dinner like a normal family." 

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Uncertain future

Brandy and Anthony remain unsure exactly what their future holds.

Brandy still has her eye on the police job, even as recent protests over police brutality rock major cities around the country, including in New Orleans, worrying her family. She’s scheduling several tests and certifications with the department before she can begin the training phase. 

Maybe they will all make the move down to the city in about a month, she figures. They could live there in the RV for awhile, or find a small apartment. "I can definitely visualize it," she said of a new life in New Orleans with stable jobs.

In the meantime, the Richardvilles, like so many families across the U.S., will continue to wait out this pandemic. They will wait for life to feel normal again. 

At night, all seven will pack into an old RV parked on a dirt lot in Moss Point. It’s not perfect, but it beats a tent.

Contact Luke Ramseth at 601-961-7050 or lramseth@gannett.com. Follow @lramseth on Twitter.