Burien Beat
Editorial published with permissions by John L. White, long-time Burien resident
WHO WINS? WHO LOSES?
To understand DESC, you have to follow the money. The surface story is about compassion, housing, and second chances. But underneath, it is a business model — one that generates enormous revenue streams for those who run it, and even more for those who own the bricks and mortar.
Each resident represents a guaranteed source of income. Government vouchers, subsidies, and contracts are tied to the bed, not the progress of the person. It doesn’t matter if the resident pays rent or not. As long as the room is filled, the money keeps coming.
And behind DESC’s walls, the real winners are not the residents. They are the investors. In Burien, that trail leads directly to a company based in Minnesota. This company specializes in buying and developing “supportive housing” projects, then collecting steady streams of government-backed revenue year after year. To them, DESC is not a mission. It is a product.
The numbers are staggering. Every year, tens of millions of dollars flow into DESC projects. The Minnesota firm benefits from tax credits, guaranteed rent checks, and long-term contracts that virtually eliminate risk. For them, DESC is a gold mine: an investment that pays out whether lives improve or not.
This is why DESC has no incentive to change. The money is not tied to recovery, sobriety, or successful exits. It is tied to occupancy. The longer people stay, the more secure the revenue. And if relapse is common? All the better — relapse keeps the rooms full.
Burien never signed up to be part of this business model. Yet the city now finds itself playing host to a facility that serves investors hundreds of miles away more than it serves the people in its own community. The residents inside may be struggling, but the company in Minnesota is thriving — proof that, in this system, profit is the priority and people are the commodity.
The price of DESC in Burien cannot be measured only in police calls or ambulance runs. There is another cost — a hidden one — that the city continues to pay every day: lost opportunity.
Before DESC took over the site, that building was full of life. It housed 12 businesses, each with employees, customers, and a role in the downtown business corridor. There was ample parking. People came and went throughout the day, spending money not just in those businesses, but in nearby shops and restaurants as well. The property generated tax revenue, provided jobs, and kept the street alive.
All of that is gone. In its place stands a facility that produces no tax base, no retail traffic, and no economic contribution. Instead, it consumes resources. Police, fire, and medical services are called there almost daily. Rather than adding to the vitality of downtown, DESC has drained it — replacing commerce with crisis.
This is what economists call opportunity cost: the measure of what could have been. Burien lost more than just businesses. It lost the chance to grow its downtown into a thriving economic hub. Instead of a center for small business and community gathering, the city was handed a facility that benefits investors in Minnesota and administrators in Seattle — but leaves Burien footing the bill for its impacts.
The irony is sharp. A property that once strengthened the community now weakens it. Where there was once opportunity, there is now liability. And the people of Burien are left asking the question: Why did we trade 12 businesses for one facility that benefits everyone except us?
Stay Tuned for the last installment of the Series: Chapter 6: DESC: The Cycle of Failure
To Read the First Installments,
Chapter 1: The Lie
Chapter 2: The Stagnant Holding Cell
Chapter 3: Dealing with Drug Dealers
Chapter 4: Hugo Garcia, Dow’s Bought Agent
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