The Salvation Army in Bremerton has announced it will cease daytime operations at its primary homeless shelter, a decision that will significantly reduce services for one of the city's most vulnerable populations. Beginning February 17, the facility on Sixth Street will operate exclusively as an overnight shelter, open only from 7 p.m. to 9 a.m. daily.
This dramatic scaling back marks the end of an era for the 94-bed shelter, which has operated around the clock for most of the past six years. The change comes after Kitsap County, which had been funding the shelter through temporary pandemic-related grants, informed operators that financial support would be discontinued. The resulting budget shortfall of approximately $145,000 per month made maintaining 24-hour operations impossible.
The shelter's history dates back to 2020, when the organization converted its Sixth Street building into a year-round emergency shelter at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. Initially a temporary pandemic response, it became a critical long-term resource for Bremerton's unhoused community. During a brief interruption in 2023, the consequences became starkly visible as large encampments sprang up across downtown streets, illustrating the shelter's vital role in keeping people housed.
Last year alone, the facility provided more than 26,000 nights of shelter to individuals in need, serving nearly 100 residents nightly. The decision to reduce hours will not only limit access to safe indoor space but will also eliminate crucial daytime services that many residents relied on for stability and support. These services included case management, job search assistance, medical appointment coordination, and simply providing a warm, secure environment where people could escape the elements and regroup.
Captain Dana Walters, who oversees shelter operations with her husband, Captain Lance Walters, described the past few days as an emotional rollercoaster for both staff and residents. In a phone interview, she explained that employees learned of the transition Monday morning, with approximately ten staff members facing imminent job losses. Shelter guests received the news around lunchtime the same day, leaving them scrambling to figure out where they could spend their days and how they would manage without the support systems they had come to depend on.
The funding crisis has been building for months, though many in the community remained unaware of its severity. Kitsap County had been propping up the shelter's budget with one-time federal pandemic relief funds, but that money has now been exhausted. Facing its own fiscal constraints and competing budget priorities, the county notified Bremerton officials in late December that it could no longer sustain the monthly contribution, forcing the Salvation Army to plan for reduced operations.
Initially, the organization announced it would transition to an overnight-only model starting January 1, 2026. However, a last-minute funding proposal offered a glimmer of hope that proved ultimately false. Bremerton City Council President Jane Rebelowski and State Representative Tarra Simmons, D-Bremerton, spearheaded an effort to reallocate a $1.1 million federal pandemic-era grant that had been designated for the Bremerton Housing Authority's construction of a permanent homeless shelter.
With the city's encouragement and active advocacy, the Salvation Army made what it called a "good faith" decision to maintain full operations while the funding reallocation was negotiated. For weeks, staff and residents held onto hope that a solution would materialize. However, on February 2, city officials delivered disappointing news: the funding plan had fallen through, and no alternative source had been identified. The reallocation proved more complex than anticipated, and the Housing Authority's project had its own contractual obligations that could not be easily undone.
The timing of the service reduction could not be worse. Winter weather in the Pacific Northwest has brought cold temperatures and persistent rain, conditions that make living outdoors not just uncomfortable but potentially life-threatening. Without daytime shelter access, dozens of individuals will be forced onto the streets each morning, exposed to the elements for twelve hours with few immediate alternatives. The forecast shows no signs of improvement, with meteorologists predicting continued wet and frigid conditions through March.
Local advocates for the homeless have expressed deep concern about the impact on both residents and the broader community. The shelter's low-barrier model—meaning it accepts people without requiring extensive documentation, sobriety, or other restrictions—has made it uniquely accessible to those who might otherwise have nowhere to turn. The loss of daytime services eliminates a safe space for people to rest, access case management, and connect with resources that could help them transition to permanent housing.
The ripple effects extend beyond the shelter's walls. Downtown businesses and residents have witnessed the consequences of inadequate shelter capacity before. During the 2023 closure, visible homelessness increased dramatically in public spaces, leading to tensions, complaints, and difficult conversations about public safety and compassion. While some viewed the encampments as a public nuisance, others recognized them as a symptom of a failed system—one that now appears poised to repeat its mistakes.
The human cost is perhaps the most devastating aspect of this funding shortfall. For shelter residents, the facility has been more than just a place to sleep. It offered structure, safety, and a sense of community during daylight hours. Many used the time to work with case managers on housing applications, job searches, and medical appointments. Others simply needed a warm, dry place to exist without fear of harassment or arrest. The psychological impact of losing that stability cannot be overstated.
Staff members, too, face an uncertain future. The ten employees losing their jobs have been on the front lines of Bremerton's homelessness response, building relationships with clients and developing expertise in crisis intervention, de-escalation, and social service navigation. Their departure represents a loss of institutional knowledge that will be difficult to replace if and when funding is restored. Many had worked at the shelter for years and had developed deep bonds with the community they served.
The broader policy implications are significant and extend far beyond Bremerton's city limits. The situation highlights the fundamental challenges of relying on temporary grants to fund essential social services. Pandemic-era funding provided a lifeline when it was most needed, but its expiration has left communities scrambling to fill gaps that were never meant to be temporary. Without sustainable, long-term funding mechanisms, shelters and other critical programs remain vulnerable to exactly this kind of abrupt closure.
City and county officials now face difficult questions about their priorities and planning. Why was a more permanent funding solution not identified earlier? What responsibility do local governments have to ensure that vulnerable residents have access to basic shelter? And what will be the true cost—both financial and human—of reducing services? The economic impact of increased emergency room visits, law enforcement interactions, and public health crises among unsheltered populations often exceeds the cost of simply providing stable shelter.
For now, those questions remain largely unanswered. The Salvation Army has stated it will continue to operate the overnight shelter to the best of its ability, but acknowledges that the reduced hours represent a significant step backward in the community's efforts to address homelessness. The organization is calling on local leaders and community members to advocate for sustainable funding solutions and to recognize shelter as a fundamental necessity, not a discretionary service.
As February 17 approaches, shelter residents are preparing for a new and uncertain reality. Some plan to spend days in libraries, coffee shops, or other public spaces that offer temporary refuge. Others may attempt to return to outdoor camps, despite the risks and legal complications. A few might try to find daytime shelter in neighboring communities, though transportation barriers and capacity limits make this difficult. Many will simply walk the streets, trying to stay dry and warm until the shelter doors reopen at 7 p.m.
The failed attempt to reallocate the $1.1 million grant raises questions about the feasibility of the Bremerton Housing Authority's planned permanent shelter. That project, intended to provide a long-term solution to the city's homelessness crisis, now appears stalled or at least delayed. Without that facility operational, the Salvation Army's Sixth Street shelter was the only game in town—and now it's operating at a fraction of its former capacity.
Community members looking to help can contact the Salvation Army to learn about volunteer opportunities or donation needs. However, organizers emphasize that individual generosity, while appreciated, cannot substitute for systematic government funding. The scale of the problem requires public investment, political will, and a recognition that housing stability is a community-wide responsibility.
The coming weeks will serve as a test of Bremerton's commitment to its most vulnerable residents. Will the sight of people sleeping in doorways and parks spur action and renewed investment? Or will the community adjust to a new normal where daytime shelter is considered a luxury, not a basic necessity? For the nearly 100 people who will be turned out each morning, the answer cannot come soon enough. Their safety, health, and dignity depend on it.