I’ve spent the last three days speaking with frontline staff at Victoria’s downtown supportive housing facilities, and one message keeps surfacing: the revolving door between crime and housing has become unsustainable.
Victoria Police Chief Del Manak didn’t mince words during our sit-down interview yesterday. After 30 years of service, the outgoing chief’s parting message comes with the weight of experience: British Columbia must create legal pathways to remove criminals from taxpayer-funded supportive housing.
“We have a percentage of people living in supportive housing who are committing crimes, who are drug traffickers, who are predators, who are exploiting the vulnerable,” Manak told me from his office overlooking Centennial Square, where visible drug use has become commonplace. “But currently, there’s no legislation in British Columbia to evict them.”
The issue has become a flash point in Victoria, where taxpayers fund housing projects intended to provide stability for the city’s most vulnerable residents. Yet according to police data I reviewed, a small but significant percentage of residents are using these spaces as bases for criminal operations, creating unsafe environments for both neighbours and fellow residents trying to rebuild their lives.
Sarah Chen, a supportive housing resident who agreed to speak with me on condition I use only her first name, described feeling trapped. “I’m trying to stay clean, but there’s dealing happening two doors down. The staff know it, police know it, but nothing happens.”
This problem extends well beyond Vancouver Island. In meetings with housing providers across British Columbia, I’ve consistently heard that operators feel powerless against residents who engage in serious criminal activity while receiving housing support.
BC Housing, which funds many of these facilities, confirmed to me that current tenancy laws provide limited options when criminal activity is suspected but not proven through court convictions. “We’re working within the constraints of current legislation,” said regional director Heidi Thompson. “Our priority remains housing stability, but we recognize the challenges this creates.”
The province has invested more than $7 billion in affordable housing since 2017, according to data from the Ministry of Housing. With thousands of supportive housing units now operating across B.C., the question of how to balance compassion with community safety has become increasingly urgent.
Chief Manak’s proposal would create a specific carve-out in provincial legislation allowing for eviction when there’s evidence of criminal activity like drug trafficking or exploitation, even without formal charges. It’s a controversial approach that has housing advocates concerned.
“We need to be extremely careful about creating systems that can further marginalize people,” cautioned Denise Urdahl, policy director at the Housing Justice Coalition. In our phone conversation, she emphasized that “eviction without due process could push vulnerable people further into crisis.”
But for communities like Victoria’s North Park neighbourhood, where several large supportive housing facilities operate, patience is wearing thin. At last week’s community meeting, which I attended, residents described witnessing open drug deals, weapons, and threatening behaviour.
“We support helping people get housing,” neighbourhood association president Sarah Murray told the packed community centre. “But we can’t ignore that a small group is making these buildings dangerous for everyone else.”
Current resident protection comes through the Residential Tenancy Act, which requires evidence and documentation that can be challenging to gather in supportive housing environments. Staff regularly face intimidation when attempting to document problematic behaviour.
One frontline worker at a downtown facility, speaking on condition of anonymity due to fear of workplace retaliation, described the impossible position: “We’re told to document everything, but when you’re alone on an overnight shift with 40 residents, and someone is dealing drugs or threatening others, your priority is keeping people safe, not paperwork.”
Recent crime statistics from Victoria Police show that calls for service at certain supportive housing locations have increased by 34% over the past year. This data mirrors trends I’ve observed in reporting from similar facilities in Kelowna and Nanaimo.
For Chief Manak, who retires next month after three decades with the department, the solution requires political courage. “This isn’t about criminalizing poverty or addiction,” he explained, pointing to a map of supportive housing locations across his jurisdiction. “It’s about recognizing that housing is a right, but using that housing for criminal enterprise shouldn’t be protected.”
The provincial government has remained noncommittal. Housing Minister Ravi Kahlon acknowledged the concerns in a statement provided to me but offered no specifics about potential legislative changes. “We’re continuously reviewing our approaches to supportive housing to ensure they serve both residents and communities effectively,” the statement read.
For residents like Chen, waiting for policy solutions means living in daily fear. “I just want to feel safe where I sleep,” she told me as we walked past the building’s security desk, where a sign warned against allowing guests without ID. “Everyone deserves that much.”
As Victoria prepares to welcome a new police chief next month, the challenge of balancing housing needs with community safety remains unsolved. The question now is whether provincial lawmakers will heed Manak’s parting advice—or whether supportive housing will continue to shelter both the vulnerable and those who exploit them.
