The death of a homeless man in Pensacola has reignited debate over Florida’s anti-camping laws and their enforcement.
August Bucki, 41, who was wheelchair-bound, died on Feb. 21 after spending the night in near-freezing temperatures outside a homeless outreach facility. His death came just days after sheriff’s deputies assisted in clearing a nearby encampment.
A small turnout, but strong emotions
On March 16, a small group gathered in Seville Square for a vigil in Bucki’s memory.
Six people stood in the dim light, candles in hand. Online, Bucki’s death had sparked outrage, with social media posts shared hundreds of times—but in person, the turnout was sparse.
Among those gathered was Janis Deveney, who was volunteering at the Alfred Washburn Center when the encampment was cleared.
"It's really hard to meet somebody who is so kind and so dependent on other people's kindness" Deveney said, "and then to see them given minutes to collect their things and leave—when they're in a wheelchair."
Who was August Bucki?
Bucki was a familiar figure in Pensacola’s arts and music scene. Friends called him "Augie" and remembered his keen intellect and creative temperament. He was a regular at poetry slams and bookstores. Like many in his circle, he also had a rebellious streak.
Scott Satterwhite, who helped run Subterranean Books, recalled an anecdote that captured this side of Bucki’s personality.
"There’s this book, a kind of famous book called 'Steal This Book,'" he said.
The book, by Abbie Hoffman, is an underground guide to countercultural resistance, written in the early 1970s. It serves as a radical how-to manual, covering topics like living for free, organizing protests, avoiding government surveillance, and engaging in guerrilla tactics against "The System."
The book embodies the rebellious, anti-establishment spirit of the era, advocating for everything from shoplifting and scamming corporations to more direct acts of civil disobedience — like, well, stealing books.
"When Bucki was a teenager, he actually stole it from us," Satterwhite recalled.
Bucki had a biting wit. In 2017, a friend filmed him in a barber’s chair, discussing the city’s homelessness problem.
"If I ran for mayor of Pensacola and won, I could guarantee you I would decimate the homeless situation by moving them onto the privately owned golf courses," Bucki joked in the video. "They could caddy for the people golfing, make a living, and have somewhere to live ... They could wash their socks in the ball washers, and everybody would be happy. It would look like Woodstock with the tents on the ninth hole, you know? No more homeless people."
Years later, his satire would seem darkly prescient.
The encampment and its aftermath
Florida’s new anti-camping law, passed last year, made it illegal to sleep on public land. In response, local governments, including Escambia County, enacted their own ordinances and dismantled long-established encampments.
With fewer options, the elderly and disabled—including Bucki—began camping outside the Washburn Center, a homeless outreach facility that offers services like meals, mailboxes, and showers, but no beds. Many believed it was one of the safest places to stay, thanks to its services and 24/7 security camera coverage.
On Feb. 19, county code enforcement—assisted by sheriff’s deputies—arrived to clear the encampment.
Michael Kimberl, the Washburn Center’s director, described what happened next.
"Not everyone got their belongings. Not everyone was there," he said. "A couple of people were handicapped and just didn’t move fast enough. I saw at least three tents, a couple of lean-tos made with tarps, and a bunch of blankets thrown into a truck and taken away."
Kimberl said that Bucki’s belongings were among those taken. Less than 48 hours later, Bucki was dead.
"There was a group of guys across the street with a small fire going," Kimberl continued. "They were sitting up keeping themselves warm, and he was across the street sitting in his wheelchair. They said they watched him fall out of his wheelchair onto the ground. They went over to check on him, and he was kind of unresponsive, so they called EMS … An hour and a half later, police and a crime scene unit pulled up. The guys told me an officer said he died of hypothermia."
The official cause of Bucki’s death has not yet been confirmed. The Medical Examiner has not released its report. The Escambia County Sheriff’s Office released an incident report, but the statements from officers and witnesses who were present are completely redacted. In making those redactions, the sheriff's office cited an ongoing investigation.
A broader debate over homelessness policies
For Kimberl and other advocates, Bucki’s death is a direct consequence of Florida’s new laws targeting homelessness.
"If you want to pass these ordinances saying that people can't be somewhere, you need to provide an alternative of where they can be," Kimberl said. "And that's what we haven't seen. There’s a lot of ‘you can't be here, you can't do this.’ But where can they go? If you push them off public land, they end up on private land, and that’s an arrestable offense. Once again, we’re funneling our poor into our jail system, which is probably the most expensive way of dealing with this issue."
Chief Deputy Andrew Hobbs, however, argued that law enforcement is doing what it can within legal constraints.
"We can be compassionate," he said. "We can help. We can try to get them in contact with nonprofits—which there are a lot of in Escambia County that are trying to help people—but if they don't want it, we can't force them to take that help."
A life remembered
For those at the vigil, Bucki’s death was much more personal. Some saw the confiscation of his belongings as a kind of theft.
"Didn’t you basically steal it?" one attendee asked. "You stole it from them. It was stolen."
The discussion of theft called to mind Satterwhite's anecdote about Bucki, the book thief. Despite his rebellious streak, those who knew Bucki also remembered his kindness. When he stole that volume from Subterranean Books as a teenager, he didn’t keep it.
"A couple of weeks later," Satterwhite said, "he came back, confessed to the store owner, and told him what he did. He felt bad about stealing it, especially from a small independent bookstore like ours. And he returned the book. I think he even paid for it, even though he returned it."
Bucki made things right. Now, his friends only wish someone had done the same for him.
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