Forrest Salcido's brutal death still shakes local, national homeless communities

Forrest Clayton Salcido chose to live in obscurity among Missoula's homeless community and made every effort not to create a household name for himself.

He was decidedly nondomesticated and removed from society, which had begun to bewilder him long ago.

Still, “Clay” Salcido was well-known and beloved among a small circle of people in Missoula, where he spent an entire life in good graces, helping friends in their gardens and chopping wood.

In the weeks after the 56-year-old Navy veteran was beaten to death on the California Street footbridge, reports of his murder sent shock waves through Missoula and across the country - with reactions of outrage, support and sympathy pouring in from homeless populations and veterans organizations as far away as Washington, D.C.

Two Missoula men, Anthony St. Dennis, 18, and Dustin Strahan, 20, have been charged with deliberate homicide in the crime.

And Salcido's is now a household name.

The indiscriminate nature and viciousness of the attack staggered community members and friends who looked forward to Salcido's charismatic company.

Forrest's brother, Tim Salcido, is still absorbing the community's enormous response to the brutal murder.

“I was very shocked by how many people showed up at the bridge to commemorate my brother,” he said, referring to a rally held on National Homeless Persons' Memorial Day.

Meanwhile, western Montana's largest homeless shelter, the Poverello Center, has seen an influx in the number of its homeless clients.

Ellie Hill, director of the nonprofit shelter, attributes the renewed demand for shelter in part to the threat of violence created by the glaring reality of Salcido's death.

“We were unusually full after Clay's death, and homeless folks who normally stay outside chose not to,” Hill said. “These people live in life-and-death situations every night in Missoula, and Clay's death is a very tragic example of that.”

Hill said she received nearly 100 calls in the week after Salcido's death, and realized the impact the murder had on homeless communities nationally.

Salcido's niece, Amanda, resolved to find work and consolation at the Poverello Center, where her uncle sometimes went for hot showers and meals.

“It's given me a positive environment to be around and helps me cope with everything that's happened,” she said.

Next week, Amanda returns to Louisiana, where she's pursuing a master's degree in psychology, but says she intends to devote next summer to the shelter and her Missoula family members.

Garth Riebe, the man who found Salcido's lifeless body during the frigid morning hours of Dec. 5, has petitioned city officials to rename the footbridge in honor of Salcido. He hopes that by memorializing Salcido the tragedy will not forgotten.

“Being the one who found him, it's just really bothered me. It's so hard to make something good out of a tragedy, but I want something good to come out of this,” said Riebe, who met Salcido on his regular journeys across the bridge.

Riebe has written a letter to the Missoula Parks and Recreation Department asking the agency to authorize a plaque dedicating the bridge to Salcido, who frequently camped out on a nearby river island.

“I know it's not going to bring justice, but I'd like there to be some acknowledgement of what happened. Maybe we can stop this violence happening in our town,” he said.

At the family's behest, the Poverello Center opened an endowment fund in Salcido's name to provide outreach and additional services for Missoula's homeless veterans. According to Hill, the fund received about $500, but the shelter saw $15,000 more in donations than the holiday season typically brings.

“We believe the additional support came because of the community's strong reaction,” Hill said.

Manuel Salcido, a cousin to Forrest and Tim who is incarcerated in a Texas penitentiary and has never met the men, wrote a letter to the Poverello Center expressing his sympathies and apologizing for his inability to make a donation.

Like his brother, Tim Salcido prefers to keep out of the spotlight, but said he appreciates the community's powerful response.

“Everywhere I go, people say something and tell me they're sorry,” he said. “We've had grade school friends writing us letters, which is nice.”

The next chapter of the tragedy will unfold in Montana's judicial system, where Salcido's alleged killers face potential life terms in prison.

“I'm not hateful or vindictive, but I want justice,” Tim Salcido said. “It's difficult to think about, but it's the only way to bring any sort of closure.”

Copyright © 2009 Missoulian