The sidewalks around Melnea Cass Boulevard and Massachusetts Avenue are now empty. Metal barricades block areas once filled with hundreds of tents. Boston Police cruisers drive down walkways, sirens blaring and lights flashing, to disperse small groups within minutes.

For years, Mass. and Cass was considered a “safe zone” where the unhoused lived in tents and used drugs with relative impunity.

But since last November, most people now come and go quickly. That’s when Mayor Michelle Wu’s administration enacted a citywide ordinance banning tents in response to residents’ complaints about public safety.

The changes in the area now have some Boston residents complaining that drug use and homelessness have caused issues in the surrounding neighborhoods. At the same time, homeless advocates say the ordinance actually put the city’s most vulnerable people more at risk.

Jazz, who asked to be identified by her first name for her safety, told GBH News that she felt safer at Mass. and Cass, where she lived periodically for 17 years, than living transiently across the city. When the homeless community was siloed in one area, people operated in community, she said. Someone could watch your tent while you went to the methadone clinic, or give you Narcan if you overdosed.

“Now, everyone’s dying, overdosing or just disappearing or getting pushed into the street and run over by cars,” she said.

Jazz said residents’ complaints are less concerning than the conditions unhoused people have been forced into.

“It’s not dangerous for them,” she said. “It’s dangerous for us.”

Beyond the tent ban, Jazz said one hugely beneficial program also stopped. The city ran out of funding over the summer for a needle exchange program that gave people cash for used syringes.

“That was everybody’s first $10 of the day, their breakfast, the best thing to happen down there,” she said. “You used to see maybe two or three needles, now you can’t walk anywhere without them being everywhere.”

Barricades block the sidewalk at the intersection of Melnea Cass Boulevard and Massachusetts Avenue, Oct. 24, 2024
Barricades block the sidewalk at the intersection of Melnea Cass Boulevard and Massachusetts Avenue, Oct. 24, 2024
Tori Bedford

City residents say they feel less safe.

Linda Zablocki, president of the Andrew Square Civic Association, said the problem has only moved, with no clear solutions.

“We have people on our stairs using drugs, trying to get into our halls in the back yards, breaking into garages, taking more packages, leaving more litter and food all around our homes,” she said.

April Carmine, who lives in the Leather District between the Financial District and Chinatown, said her quality of life has been threatened.

“We should not be afraid to walk our dogs, take our children to the park, or just go for a walk on our own through the neighborhood,” she said. “Public safety should be the top priority for any city, and yet Boston feels like it’s slipping into chaos.”

Since last year, arrests have skyrocketed in the three police districts that overlap Mass. and Cass, with a significant spike in arrests for drug possession and consumption, according to Boston Police data.

At a Boston City Council meeting last week, Deputy Superintendent Dan Humphreys said the Boston Police Department recently increased enforcement at Mass. and Cass. The department also plans to implement a “new phase” of enforcement focused on arrests for congregant drug use across the city.

Violent crime is down 27%, and robberies are down 25% in the area, Humphreys said during the meeting.

“But if people don’t feel safe there, it doesn’t mean anything,” Humphreys said. “Basically we have different measures of crime: you have stats, and how do people feel? So what we’re trying to do is make those match.”

Franchesca Pacheco, who now stays at a nearby women’s shelter, told GBH News that police are too aggressive.

“They’re arresting people for no reason,” she said. “I understand if they’ve got a knife or a gun, if they’re hurting somebody else, go ahead and take them. But they’re just doing drugs, and it’s to cover the pain.”

Homeless advocate Cassie Hurd, who leads the nonprofit Material Aid and Advocacy Program, says she’s worried about the lasting effects of Boston’s approach to Mass. and Cass. She said unhoused people are finding it more difficult to access medical care or receive overdose prevention.

“In reality, it’s less safe for the people who are surviving outside, because they’ve been forced into less safe places,” she said.

Jazz still returns to Mass. and Cass to visit the methadone clinic, but she doesn’t stay long.

The Engagement Center on Atkinson Street, which once served as a place for people to use the bathroom, take a nap, get medical care, a meal or a cup of coffee, was transformed last February into an overflow night shelter. It remains closed during the day.

“The one place we had where we weren’t bothering anybody, they don’t want us to be there either,” Jazz said.

On Sunday, Miguel Maron led a small group of Warm Up Boston volunteers on an outreach walk from South Station through Chinatown into the Boston Common, handing out sandwiches, hot drinks, water bottles, Narcan and first aid kits.

Maron, a harm reduction advocate and a housing case worker, says his work has changed “dramatically and rapidly” since the ordinance went into effect last year. Warm Up Boston changed its routes to accommodate those who were pushed out of Mass. and Cass.

“It has become increasingly unpredictable,” Maron said. “Doctors are having a lot harder time tracking down where their patients are, people aren’t getting their medications or HIV treatment. When the city is not giving actual solutions, they’re just forcing people to die, essentially. There’s no real other choice.”

In nearby Dewey Square, Maron hands out clean pipes and syringes to a man who shows off an inflamed growth on his arm, the result of shooting up with a used needle. “The result of the beast of stupidity,” the man says. “I know I could get sick.”

“Or you could die,” Maron says, blankly.

Maron recognizes that he’s putting himself — and the people he helps — at risk by distributing harm reduction materials, even if they come from city-funded programs.

“I’m currently carrying $10,000 worth of fines of crack pipes on me right now,” he said, gesturing to his giant backpack. “But the importance of reducing the spread of transmittable diseases is so much more important.”

City officials released a statement saying they are “focused on enhancing public health, public safety and quality of life in the neighborhoods.”

“The City continues to invest in strategies of focused deterrence, with a goal of ending congregating substance use across the city and connecting residents to needed services and housing,” the statement said.

But at Mass. and Cass, people like Francesca Pacheco say that “focused deterrence” can’t work if the city doesn’t provide people with somewhere to go.

“People want to get help, but at $3,500 for an apartment, it’s impossible,” she said. “They’re locking every door because people look different, and it’s not fair to anybody.”