BOSTON — Carvell Curry was born May 24, 1963. He died December 5, 2025. He was 62 years old, homeless, and freezing to death outside South Station while the Commonwealth of Massachusetts was spending nearly $2 billion putting migrant families in hotels.

His funeral mass was held January 26, 2026, at St. Anthony Shrine on Arch Street. The pamphlets were simple — his name, his photo, his dates. A man reduced to a program from a church on a Monday.

The state had nothing to say.

Under Massachusetts' "right to shelter" law, migrant families are guaranteed a bed. The state is legally required to house them. No family is turned away.

Carvell Curry was not a migrant family. He was a 62-year-old man who had been homeless in Boston for more than a decade. The system knew where he slept. It didn't save him.

While Curry slept on concrete, Healey's administration was ramping up HomeBASE — the state's flagship program for moving migrant families out of shelters and into apartments. The program covers up to two years of rent subsidies, first and last month's rent, security deposits, broker's fees, $2,500 for furniture, moving expenses, and even landlord bonuses.

It's funded at more than $57 million for 2026 alone.

Carvell Curry didn't get $30,000. He didn't get a three-bedroom apartment. He didn't get a case manager or furniture money or a landlord bonus. He got a sidewalk outside South Station and a night where the temperature tried to kill him. It succeeded.

Councilor Miniard Culpepper, along with co-sponsors Sharon Durkan and Edward Flynn, called for city-owned properties to be opened as emergency shelters during cold-weather emergencies and for the MBTA to adopt "compassionate" policies instead of forcing people out into dangerous conditions.

"No person should be forced to remain exposed to sub-freezing conditions due to rigid access policies," the resolution states.

The resolution is non-binding. It carries no funding and mandates no action.

Curry was not a stranger to the system. He was known by name to outreach workers and service providers across the neighborhood. The council resolution called him "warm, generous, and deeply connected" to the community that tried to help him over the years.

He was tracked. He was checked on. Everybody knew exactly where he slept. And on the night it mattered most, nobody opened a door.

Meanwhile, a migrant family that arrived yesterday is legally guaranteed a warm bed tonight. Their rent will be subsidized. Their furniture will be paid for. Their case manager will call within 24 hours.

Carvell Curry lived in Boston for more than a decade. He froze to death on a sidewalk.

The Council passed a resolution about it. Healey's office said nothing. And the $2 billion shelter machine kept running — for everyone except the people who were already here.