Mayor’s Soft Policy Blamed as 13 Freeze to Death in NYC Crisis

Paul Riverbank, 1/31/2026NYC's lenient homeless policy faces scrutiny after 13 freeze deaths; rights, risks, and public outrage.

In some circles, anger flared up over Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s new directives. He’d only just settled into City Hall, the novelty of his election scarcely faded. In one of his first big moves, Mamdani put a stop to old practices: no more police or sanitation sweeps of homeless encampments. Those kinds of removals, he argued, only happen if there’s a clear danger to someone’s safety. He wanted the Department of Homeless Services to shepherd the response, not uniformed officers.

“There are criteria,” Mamdani tried to explain when the cameras turned his way, listing off details his team checks for—how someone’s dressed, their behavior, hints that they might be in some real trouble. “If there’s a genuine risk, well, then the city steps in; involuntary confinement comes as a last resort.” But as the temperature plummeted, the realities out on the street didn’t always fit neatly into these bureaucratic boxes.

Frederick Jones never made it home. Neighbors say he was seen pacing, bundled tight but shivering, not so far from his rent-stabilized apartment in Bushwick. Police came out twice over the course of the week—he refused their offers both times, saying he’d manage. His body was found the next morning, under a heap of blankets that proved no match for the wind.

A handful of stories ended much the same. Barbara Szuter passed away outside a Brooklyn deli. Michael Veronico’s name now fills the footnotes of two city files—one for untreated mental illness, the other for substance abuse that left him exposed during the worst of the cold. Even a woman in her nineties was lost to the night, her dementia unspooling into the frozen streets.

Officials tried to respond. Warming centers—a routine fixture each winter—were set to double speed. Instead of the standard four-hour checks, outreach workers were told to sweep the streets every two. Nearly a thousand managed to get indoors, at least temporarily. City records show that under “Code Blue” rules, fifteen people who resisted help were taken in against their will, citing imminent risk. Still, the deaths kept coming.

Former Mayor Eric Adams, never one for subtlety, turned to Twitter. “On 12/05/25, I begged then Mayor-elect Mamdani not to reverse our policy that kept homeless New Yorkers from freezing outdoors in makeshift encampments. Every day of delay risks more lives.” His message was quickly picked apart—some say it’s politics, others see haunting echoes of last winter’s tragedies.

Councilman Phil Wong weighed in, pressing the case for more assertive action: involuntary commitment, he argued, has to be on the table when temperatures drop and judgment falters. “Especially during Code Blue conditions,” he said, “it’s how we prevent senseless deaths.” Republican Councilwoman Joann Ariola put it more bluntly, “We’re losing people because the mayor values words and ideals over decisive action.”

Mamdani and his team haven’t budged from their stance, pointing to civil liberties. They remind critics that almost every victim had some prior contact with the city’s stretched-to-the-brink shelter system. Among the seven cold exposure deaths initially identified, city hall won’t say more until the medical examiner is finished. A familiar refrain: “We’re doing everything within reason, and within the law.”

Yet another controversy greeted the mayor’s public appearance in Washington, where he joined a mayors’ panel just as the city tallied its most recent dead. “I struggle to imagine how my job could be better at the moment,” he told an audience, a remark that, parsed in the wake of tragedy, landed awkwardly. Critics pounced. “There’s a man freezing outside his office and he’s doing…what, exactly?” Ariola said, her voice tinged with exasperation. Mamdani’s office insists the line was wrenched out of context.

Behind the bitter debate, larger strains weigh down the system—a ballooning $12 billion budget hole, a shelter network bursting at the seams, rising costs everywhere. Short-term, though, the city’s challenge remains as brutal as the wind chill: who gets to decide when someone’s judgment is clouded by cold or circumstance? What’s the boundary between protecting someone's rights and keeping them alive?

The truth is, nobody seems especially satisfied. Families and advocates gathered at makeshift vigils, clutching candles and cardboard signs, mourning faces most New Yorkers never met. Policy experts circulate ideas for next time. Politicians trade jabs—sometimes falling into old habits, sometimes genuinely wrestling with the grim arithmetic of winter on the streets.

As March looms, nobody can say with certainty which approach will keep the city’s most vulnerable safe. For now, the debate persists, raw as ever, somewhere between the heated arguments inside City Hall and the unyielding cold outside its stone walls.

When that latest Arctic snap barreled into New York City, the city’s streets seemed almost deserted, except for the thin figures gathered outside station entrances and tucked beneath the edges of scaffolding. The morning after, sirens howled down avenues as the news began to break—first ten, then thirteen, left dead by the cold. The stories slipped across social media, and before long, more questions were being thrown around than answers.In some circles, anger flared up over Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s new directives. He’d only just settled into City Hall, the novelty of his election scarcely faded. In one of his first big moves, Mamdani put a stop to old practices: no more police or sanitation sweeps of homeless encampments. Those kinds of removals, he argued, only happen if there’s a clear danger to someone’s safety. He wanted the Department of Homeless Services to shepherd the response, not uniformed officers.“There are criteria,” Mamdani tried to explain when the cameras turned his way, listing off details his team checks for—how someone’s dressed, their behavior, hints that they might be in some real trouble. “If there’s a genuine risk, well, then the city steps in; involuntary confinement comes as a last resort.” But as the temperature plummeted, the realities out on the street didn’t always fit neatly into these bureaucratic boxes.Frederick Jones never made it home. Neighbors say he was seen pacing, bundled tight but shivering, not so far from his rent-stabilized apartment in Bushwick. Police came out twice over the course of the week—he refused their offers both times, saying he’d manage. His body was found the next morning, under a heap of blankets that proved no match for the wind.A handful of stories ended much the same. Barbara Szuter passed away outside a Brooklyn deli. Michael Veronico’s name now fills the footnotes of two city files—one for untreated mental illness, the other for substance abuse that left him exposed during the worst of the cold. Even a woman in her nineties was lost to the night, her dementia unspooling into the frozen streets.Officials tried to respond. Warming centers—a routine fixture each winter—were set to double speed. Instead of the standard four-hour checks, outreach workers were told to sweep the streets every two. Nearly a thousand managed to get indoors, at least temporarily. City records show that under “Code Blue” rules, fifteen people who resisted help were taken in against their will, citing imminent risk. Still, the deaths kept coming.Former Mayor Eric Adams, never one for subtlety, turned to Twitter. “On 12/05/25, I begged then Mayor-elect Mamdani not to reverse our policy that kept homeless New Yorkers from freezing outdoors in makeshift encampments. Every day of delay risks more lives.” His message was quickly picked apart—some say it’s politics, others see haunting echoes of last winter’s tragedies.Councilman Phil Wong weighed in, pressing the case for more assertive action: involuntary commitment, he argued, has to be on the table when temperatures drop and judgment falters. “Especially during Code Blue conditions,” he said, “it’s how we prevent senseless deaths.” Republican Councilwoman Joann Ariola put it more bluntly, “We’re losing people because the mayor values words and ideals over decisive action.”Mamdani and his team haven’t budged from their stance, pointing to civil liberties. They remind critics that almost every victim had some prior contact with the city’s stretched-to-the-brink shelter system. Among the seven cold exposure deaths initially identified, city hall won’t say more until the medical examiner is finished. A familiar refrain: “We’re doing everything within reason, and within the law.”Yet another controversy greeted the mayor’s public appearance in Washington, where he joined a mayors’ panel just as the city tallied its most recent dead. “I struggle to imagine how my job could be better at the moment,” he told an audience, a remark that, parsed in the wake of tragedy, landed awkwardly. Critics pounced. “There’s a man freezing outside his office and he’s doing…what, exactly?” Ariola said, her voice tinged with exasperation. Mamdani’s office insists the line was wrenched out of context.Behind the bitter debate, larger strains weigh down the system—a ballooning $12 billion budget hole, a shelter network bursting at the seams, rising costs everywhere. Short-term, though, the city’s challenge remains as brutal as the wind chill: who gets to decide when someone’s judgment is clouded by cold or circumstance? What’s the boundary between protecting someone's rights and keeping them alive?The truth is, nobody seems especially satisfied. Families and advocates gathered at makeshift vigils, clutching candles and cardboard signs, mourning faces most New Yorkers never met. Policy experts circulate ideas for next time. Politicians trade jabs—sometimes falling into old habits, sometimes genuinely wrestling with the grim arithmetic of winter on the streets.As March looms, nobody can say with certainty which approach will keep the city’s most vulnerable safe. For now, the debate persists, raw as ever, somewhere between the heated arguments inside City Hall and the unyielding cold outside its stone walls.