NASHVILLE, Tenn. — Over coffee in an East Nashville diner, retired social worker John Lozier asked his friend, Joseph Lamont Williams, about the night police came to the park where Williams sleeps. Williams, 49, said officers tased him when he refused to leave. His arrest placed him among the few in the United States to face the Tennessee homeless camping felony for sleeping on public property.
Williams had lived for years beneath a picnic pavilion in a public park in East Nashville. When he declined to move, police charged him with two felony counts of camping on state property. He ultimately pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor, spent nine days in jail and was released when prosecutors dismissed the felony counts, according to court records. The maximum penalty for felony camping in Tennessee is six years in prison.
Tennessee homeless camping felony in focus
Advocates say they have rarely seen Tennessee’s 2022 law used to charge people experiencing homelessness with felonies. The case arrives as a growing number of states and cities restrict public camping. According to the National Homelessness Law Center, 11 states enacted camping bans in the last four years, and more than 300 municipalities moved to curb public sleeping and camping following a U.S. Supreme Court ruling that allowed such local prohibitions. Supporters argue these measures provide clear rules and steer people toward services. Opponents say arrests deepen barriers to work and housing.
Lindsey Krinks, co-founder of Open Table Nashville, said the felony arrests mark an escalation after years of efforts to move encampments out of sight. She pointed to a city where high-end development has flourished while those without shelter face harsher consequences. Krinks said surveillance cameras have proliferated in parks and benches have been removed in parts of downtown, while Nashville’s longstanding encampment known as Old Tent City was cleared last year and fenced off.
Nashville’s Homelessness Planning Council estimated in December 2025 that roughly 4,300 people experience homelessness in the city, an increase of more than 30 percent in less than a year. Nationally, overall homelessness has ticked down slightly from 2024’s record levels, but chronic homelessness has grown, with more than 155,000 people meeting that definition, according to 2025 U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development data.
States’ anti-camping laws vary. Some allow penalties on cities that decline to enforce bans. Others make it easier to compel treatment. Many proposals have drawn on model language from the Cicero Institute, a conservative policy group founded by tech investor Joe Lonsdale. Cicero promotes policies that push engagement with services and, if necessary, authorize arrests to move people into shelter, treatment or designated campsites.
Devon Kurtz, who leads Cicero’s homelessness and public safety work, has criticized the Housing First approach, arguing it is ineffective. He said the aim of camping bans is not to incarcerate, but that the option to jail people in some circumstances can save lives.
This year, Louisiana adopted a misdemeanor camping ban punishable by up to a $500 fine and six months in jail, with an option to avoid jail by entering treatment programs. Louisiana North Carolina lawmakers passed a bill to outlaw public camping and allow residents or businesses to sue if encampments were not cleared within five business days. The governor vetoed it, but legislative leaders said they would try to override.
A neighborhood transformed
Williams says he does not consider the park a home, only a place to stay because he sees no alternatives he trusts. He has declined shelter placements and prefers to remain in the neighborhood where he grew up, within sight of an aging public housing complex now vacant. East Nashville, a historically African American community, has gentrified rapidly over two decades, and Williams, who is Black, said the area’s look and demographics have shifted significantly.
Across the street, new resident Alex Bilbrey, 33, said he was initially untroubled by a person sleeping under the pavilion. Over time, he said, the park changed after dark, with frequent car traffic, public sex and drug paraphernalia near the playground. He contacted his council representative and police. Open Table Nashville said it had no record of outreach requests before the arrest.
On June 28, prosecutors charged Williams with two felony camping counts and a misdemeanor for evading arrest. Charging documents state he tried to run when officers served a warrant, and that is when a Taser was used. His court-appointed attorney, Alissa Heydari, said the case worsened an already difficult situation. Williams pleaded guilty to the misdemeanor, received time served and was released on July 6 after nine days in custody when prosecutors dropped the felonies.
Cicero’s Kurtz said the outcome shows the system at work, arguing that clearing the encampment made the park safer even if Williams returned. Bilbrey said conditions at night feel largely unchanged.
Returning to routine
Williams said he tries not to dwell on the prospect of another arrest or his days in jail. He has resumed long walks, makes up songs to pass the time and meets Lozier for breakfast. After his release, he returned to the same East Nashville pavilion.
