At first glance, you might mistake Julia Thomas for a child. Barely five feet tall, rail-thin, with cropped hair and vacant eyes, she drifts through Portsmouth’s neighborhoods like a ghost — not violent, not malicious, just lost. She is 45 years old, homeless, mentally ill, and caught in an endless loop of arrests, releases, and suffering. And unless something changes, her next stop may not be court — it may be the morgue.
On Saturday, police once again booked Thomas into the Scioto County Jail, this time on burglary and theft charges. The details of this latest arrest are still emerging, but the pattern is tragically familiar. In the last two years, Julia Thomas has been arrested more than a dozen times, often just days apart, usually for disorderly conduct, trespassing, theft, or damaging property.
Each arrest is met with a suspended sentence, a fine she can’t pay, or probation she can’t follow. And each time, she’s released back onto the streets — a terrible place for anyone, let alone someone suffering from severe mental illness.
The Face of a Crisis
Thomas’s story is more than just a list of arrest records. It is a flashing red warning light for Portsmouth’s larger crisis — one that combines homelessness, untreated mental illness, addiction, and a broken justice system.
In just the past two years:
- She’s been arrested for trying to enter homes, screaming in the street, smashing windows with a bat, and stealing a pickup truck.
- She’s been banned from businesses and barred from rehab facilities because of her behavior.
- She’s been arrested at a counseling center for trying to get in — desperate for help but no longer welcome.
- On multiple occasions, she’s walked into homes, wandered into yards, and sparked panic among residents — not with violence, but with unpredictability.
One neighbor, exasperated after finding her on his porch, told officers, “Next time, I won’t call you. I’ll handle it myself.” Police warned him — and their bodycams — that vigilante justice isn’t the answer.
But it’s clear: The system isn’t working.
A City Desperate for Solutions
Portsmouth is no stranger to social struggles — the opioid epidemic, generational poverty, and now, a homelessness and mental health crisis playing out on every corner. Gallia Street. Mound Park. 10th Street. Kroger’s lobby. These aren’t just random places — they’re ground zero for a public health emergency.
The closest in-patient mental hospital is in Athens County — nearly two hours away, with just 90 beds. Local police say they can’t hold Thomas in jail. The courts are bound to issue the least restrictive sentence possible. Mental health facilities won’t accept her. Jail doesn’t help. And so, she walks.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Arrested… But Then What?
Police know her well. They document her calls, her behavior, and her deteriorating mental state. They try to help, sometimes even arranging transport to SOMC for treatment. But she always comes back, untreated and unraveling further each time.
“She’s not a violent criminal,” one officer wrote in a report. “She is a woman in crisis.”
But each crisis becomes more chaotic. One morning it’s shouting in the street. The next, it’s trying to enter homes. Then it’s stealing a truck — only to be caught by the owner holding her at gunpoint.
These aren’t crimes of malice. They’re cries for help that no one seems able — or willing — to answer.
Will Help Come In Time?
Julia Thomas is now awaiting yet another court appearance. But those who follow her story already know the likely outcome: another release. Another repeat. Another risk.
Unless something changes — fast — Portsmouth may soon be reading about her not in arrest logs, but in an obituary.
Julia Thomas is not an isolated case. But she is the face of this crisis — a poster child for what happens when a city, a system, and a society fail to act.
What Can Be Done?
Community leaders say they’re exploring solutions. More mental health resources. A regional crisis response team. Temporary housing. But funding is tight, laws are rigid, and time is running out for people like Julia.
Police say their hands are tied. Courts say their options are limited. Citizens are growing fearful and frustrated. And Julia Thomas keeps walking the streets — alone, unwell, and unseen.
Until we decide that mental illness is not a crime, and that people like Julia deserve more than a cell or a sidewalk, this crisis will continue.
But the question remains: Will help come in time to save her?
