On the evening of Dec. 15, 2016, Dakota James called his friend Shelley in a panic.
He was cold, disoriented, and scared out of his mind, wandering the streets of downtown Pittsburgh, trying to find someone—anyone—who would help him.
“I don’t know where I am,” he told her, sobbing. “I’m so cold. Please help me. I’m lost.”
Shelley didn’t hesitate.
“I’m thinking, ‘Did he get mugged? Did he get beat up? Was he in a car accident?’” she told The Daily Beast this week. “I was so scared. I said, ‘Where are you?’ I’m coming.’”
“Pittsburgh’s North Side,” he told her.