This graphic highlights three themes. First, it captures Frank and Yara’s unique experiences, showing that the journey through homelessness is rarely straightforward. There are both setbacks and successes, reflecting the challenges people face along the way. Second, this pair of journeys demonstrates how individuals often interact with service providers and must make difficult, confusing decisions about where to seek help. For instance, when Frank experiences extreme trauma and depression, he has more than 20 different mental health service providers to choose from. In today’s system, those most at risk often make these choices without the critical support of a case manager or social worker. Finally, the maps show the connection between City contractors and the people using the services. Providers that are underfunded or overwhelmed by administrative tasks—and are usually unfairly criticized for being inefficient or corrupt—struggle to deliver high-quality care, so people like Frank and Yara can easily fall through the cracks.

In the complex maze of homelessness, one vital aspect often goes unnoticed—the case manager. Though invisible to many, case managers are on the front lines, working to solve the puzzle of how to guide people from the streets to stability. Case managers may not be the most visible players in the public eye, but for those experiencing homelessness, they represent a crucial link to hope. Without enough case managers who are adequately supported and compensated, cracking homelessness will be impossible.

San Francisco employs case managers through both City agencies and local service providers, paying them $28–45 an hour. While this might seem reasonable, in a city as expensive as San Francisco, many case managers find themselves classified as low-income. They work in a high-pressure environment, often struggling financially themselves, while shouldering the emotional and logistical weight of helping others.

Best practices suggest one case manager should handle about 15 clients to provide effective, personalized support. Yet many are burdened with caseloads of 30 or more, doubling the work and further complicating their ability to offer meaningful assistance. This overload is a major barrier to solving homelessness.

San Francisco needs to double the number of case managers. But hiring is only part of the solution. The City also needs to rethink how these professionals are deployed, ensuring they can reach the diverse residents who need their support. Effective case management is not just about numbers; it's about distributing resources and empowering case managers with new tools in a way that truly helps untangle the complexities of homelessness. 

Many case managers, however, find themselves overworked, underpaid, and demoralized. The burnout is real. It’s making it harder for them to resolve the dire problem they’ve dedicated themselves to. Without significant investment in increasing their numbers, improving working conditions, and providing wages that reflect the cost of living in San Francisco, it’s difficult for these workers to continue doing what they’re passionate about and trained for.

Take, for instance, Camila—a fictional case manager whose story represents the struggles of many. Camila's caseload is overwhelming, yet she is trying to solve homelessness for others while facing her own challenges: financial insecurity, emotional burnout, and a system that stretches her too thin to be effective. 

If we truly want to make progress in reducing homelessness, we cannot overlook the role of the case managers. They are not just a minor piece in this complex puzzle; they are key players in resolving homelessness.