Ive read and re-read a lot of the data on this case over the past 2 days. The FAQs, the cell maps, the sightings, videos, the nearby houses and owners, and the timelines. I want to share some things running through my head about the case and also some life experiences about being homeless and dropping off a homeless friend in Las Vegas.
The following is observation and opinion only. Im not stating where I think Steven is, only trying to give a glimpse into thinking patterns that may or may not be relative to the case that I experienced 16 years ago going through what I think may be similar.
About the case I cant help but notice patterns of desperation on the part of Steven Koecher in the weeks leading up to his disappearance. It appears Steven was down on his luck, big time. There was back rent, the frustration of trying to find a job, facing family values and expectations, being single when you feel youre supposed to be married. Try to imagine how heavy the weight of it was on a young guy from a religious family comprised of members that are successful and whom life seems to offer little resistance. The statement that Steven acted younger than he was leads me to believe he had not matured as much as other members of his family. This tied to the fact that he had no children, marital responsibility, or homeowner responsibility further enforce my belief. I believe the trip to see AN at the family ranch was also a desperate move of trying to fill one void with the quick fix of another, or perhaps he just needed to be held and talk with someone whom he was able to be vulnerable with. Someone he knew wouldnt judge him. Someone whos eyes didnt reflect his failures. Im sure we can all think of a time when we dwelled on something in our heads so much we had to act on it. Sometimes we build up the idea of something more than the actual thing it is. I believe in his desperation he did this concerning A.N. and convinced himself to go up there. Once he arrived, reality and defeat probably kicked in and he high tailed it back home.
3 months (if I remember correctly) of back rent and a landlord that is calling you about it often can be a lot of weight on top of an already sinking ship. Having to face friends that are rooting for you and look them in the eyes and admit in coded words that , I am failing at life can also be too much for someone who is down on their luck. Ive been through it myself. I ended up on the streets slowly just like Steven. There would be a definite attraction to relocation and leaving it all behind. Its hard to explain what it feels like when your world keeps crumbling in on you. Its like quicksand. The more you struggle the more it sucks you in. Your paralyzed one moment then you lash out and do something desperate the next. You become a victim of your own distorted thinking patterns. Friends, family and support become burdens that remind you that youre not living up to your potential. The instinct is to run away, and reconnect with these people in the future once youre standing on your own 2 feet. There is also the foolish pride of a young 20 something (what I consider Steven to be via his naivety). I have to do this on my own. I know I can do it, I will not take any handouts, I got myself into this and I am the only one who can get myself out. Thoughts like these take over all rational thoughts about the people you love and whom love you. Priority becomes that you have to do it this for yourself. That you will never be able to move beyond this point in your life until you prove you can do persevere, that you can recover. Make no mistakes; it becomes a personal challenge which trumps everything and anyone else in your life. The funny thing is your convinced your next move will bring you triumph.
I am aware this may sound a little over the top, however I am trying to instill emotions into the reader that they most likely have never had to deal with. I am trying to put you there by being overly dramatic. Ive had many conversations with homeless people and personal friends on the streets and those conversations were always about us and our personal struggle and hopes. We didnt talk about our families, because they didnt matter. We had hit the bottom, the place where you abandon everything and every day is a struggle to hold your head up. Your friends and family have no nor any way of knowing the dark demented thoughts of self pity and absolute despair youre experiencing. Family and friends cant relate, it isnt possible; it becomes painful to even talk to them. It isnt their fault and there are no ill feelings towards them. They become a reminder of what we should be and have the potential to be, but for gods sake we cant seem to get there. Even on the streets the homeless cant relate to each other. I can listen to my brother but I can never be him, there is a road block in his mind that only he can get around. We can only help one another or team up for ideas, security and survival. We are to stuck in our own ruts. We dont sit and talk about how we got there, we talk about how we are going to get out, and I swear to you, my next move will be the one that gets me back on track! Little do we know that it isnt going to be our next move that gets us back to the top, or the next one, or the one after that. The only way is going to be calling our friends and family and leaning on them. That is a hard fact to face and we might damage our silly ego. Childhood issues scream Oh god, getting bailed out is not an option. We cant face it. How can I continue in life if I cant rely on myself and need hand outs like a baby?
The above is kind of what it feels like when your falling in. If you end up on the streets you better hope your street smart and have common sense or its going to be a rough ride. Falling in this deep can even be comforting because you feel alive while its happening. Ok, yea its painful as all hell watching your life slip away but the emotions even if they arent positive ones are so strong there is no doubt your alive, your still standing. It is empowering. Things cant get worse, what a great feeling. Its all downhill from here.
Time on the streets (it slips by) - A year is nothing in time living on the streets. It is a life of future projecting and survival. Days spent finding safe places to sleep, people you can survive with, finding food. Getting kicked out of those places and doing it again and again. Why dont homeless go to the library, why dont they watch TV, why dont
BECAUSE we smell, people dont want to be around us and we dont particularly want to put ourselves in front of the disapproving glances. We feel bad enough as it is, reminders of how far down weve gone dont help. Why dont we call our families? For the same reasons we didnt contact them on the way out of our normal lives, shame. Should we get a job? Hmm what will I use for a phone number, an address? No one is going hiring the homeless, Ive tried it, desperately.
My theory is that Steven was heading towards this life slowly over the past few months. Sinking, making last ditch efforts, running from the landlord, from having to face people who remind him more is expected of him. Why leave the laptop and his belongings behind? It all happens in slow motion. He probably planned on going back for his belongings. Maybe I will go in a few more days he probably thought. It just wasnt worth it, the laptop is useless where he was heading. If and when he lands a job he can go back, pick it up and pay his landlord off. Why ditch the car? Well I have a theory on that as well.
After being homeless in MA for 6 months I broke down and finally called family. My high school buddy and part of my fellow homeless group hitchhiked and hopped trains to come visit me 2 years later in AZ where I relocated. He stayed for a few days and informed me he was heading to Vegas. I offered to drive him. 4 of us headed out from Sedona, AZ and arrived in Vegas that eve. I had a touch of nostalgia and wanted to hit the streets for a day or so, before heading back. The problem was there was nowhere to leave my car. We searched for most of the day from old town to the strip for a place to leave the car and not pay outrageous fees or risk towing. The truth is a car is a burden for a person who wants to be on the streets. Signs everywhere threatening that parking here will cause impounding. I could easily see myself parking it in a safe neighborhood thinking it would be safe for a few days to a week. Convincing myself that I can come back and get it when I need it. I actually did this in MA with all my belongings. I asked a friend to store my stuff in his basement, then came back 4 months later wondering what he did with it all. Those 4 months to me were like a week. We tried to sleep in the car in Vegas, we went into the mgm grand parking structure and drove up to the top level. It was quiet there, we had passed a man in a booth that appeared to be sleeping on the drive up. An hour later we awoke to 4 security guards or cops (cant remember) with pistols drawn on us. Turned out we were in the VIP area of parking and full searches of us and the car was made. I asked the officer where we could sleep in the car. He said if your not 21 and you dont have money you dont belong in Vegas, no get the F out of the city. I didnt sleep in town but we walked a bit in old town and had a guy break a bottle and threaten us with it. Vegas sucks 
Why doesnt he call knowing his father is dead? He probably has no idea. I didnt watch TV or read papers when I was homeless. There is no place to do it. Sure in the beginning you can still get into diners or fast food joints. I tried to think of ideas to make money or feed myself instead of catching up on current events. In the beginning you can still look decent at a job interview, you can still keep a schedule to come back and follow up. As time slips by there is a tendency to hibernate to get more reclusive, to find a routine that doesnt involve mainstream society. Once the watch is sold, traded or lost, the wallet is taken, you run out of job applications.
The cell phone map and sighting map leave a trail, going in one direction. From the neighborhood where the car was left, to the Whitney Ranch area and continuing on until the cell phone dies. I find that interesting. I think he might have been going to those thrift stores looking for jobs. Did fairy1 ask if applications were kept on file? Beyond the thrift stores it is a mystery. I can also say I lost my ID living on the streets. Didnt care, didnt need it then. Surprisingly if you tell the cops in my area you dont have any ID and you look like a homeless person, they arent going to take you in.
A thought - when I dropped my friend off in Vegas, they said he could not get a job in the city without getting a permit to work, I think it was called work card. Did Steven apply? Is one still needed?
Follow up: My friend Dave came back about 4 months later to AZ heading off in another direction. He told me some stories about life on the streets in Vegas. Some scary stories. One that sticks out in my mind is a story where Dave and his friend were offered 100 bucks to be in a




video. When he went to the house the girls that were brought in were not of age. He claims he doubted they were even 16 yrs old. When Dave and his friend refused to follow through with the sex, the employer (




director or whatever he was) pulled a gun out and told them they were going to do it. I get hazy here, but I believe there was a fight, and Dave and his buddy ran out of the house and stole the employers car to get away. The streets of Vegas are no joke.
If there are thoughts of him still being on the streets then posting flyers at homeless shelters and soup kitchens throughout the city with 10k in reward money posted in bold could help.
My story:
I was living in cape cod MA attending community college and working nights at a restaurant. A call from a high school buddy came one night with him in need of a rescue. He got kicked out of his place and was sleeping on the beach. Things were going pretty well for me so I told him he could come stay with me. I rented a room at the time and the landlord who lived in the house with me wasnt happy about having a friend of mine staying. I offered to pay more and we worked out a deal. The added costs of housing and feeding my friend Dave started straining my measly paycheck. About a month beforehand I told my father who was helping me through college that I would be happy to pay for my own books out of a student loan I had taken. In hindsight I should have let him pay, but pride got in the way. I wanted to carry my own weight. Some men just need to make their own way sometimes. My buddy wasnt able to find a job and I was to kind to kick him out on his



. I dropped out of school soon after due to not being able to afford books. Called my father in NH for help, he said no, due to not hearing from me for 3-4 months until I needed money. After that exchange, I didnt call my parents until 6 months later, even my mother who is living in AZ and not judgmental in any way. The 6 months flew by.
Soon I was fired from my job for turning down a promotion. Moved out of the place I was living owing back rent and started looking for another job. Found a hotel room that was 75 bucks a week. Dave and I at this point picked up another group member, Tony. Tony had a car. My car died. Tony abandoned his car for lack of place to park it a couple of weeks later. Would have sold it if we had a title. No one would hire me anywhere. I was pushing my homlessmates to get jobs, and trying desperately to find one myself. I couldnt even get a job at McDonalds for gods sake. No one would hire me. Money ran out, and the crime started. Days would go by without food. Sure I thought about calling family for help but I knew that lifeline was always there and it came with a price that I wasnt willing to pay. 6 months of sleeping in abandoned buildings, crime, scams, and selling drugs came and went in the blink of an eye.
There was an upside to it being homeless. There was nowhere to go but up. I was at the bottom! Also there was a freedom from responsibility and expectation. There would be no disappointed voices or faces. Honestly my family wasnt really like that, it was all in my head. The disappointment I feared was really from my high expectations of myself. I was on the edge of the dark and the light. Hell I am the type of person that always likes adventure. I find adventure in everything I do and this to me was just more of the same. The ups and downs were intense. Feast and famine. One day you have 2 bucks in your pocket and 3 days later you have $500 and youre in the hotel for another week. I never went to a soup kitchen or shelter during my 6 months on the street. Also didnt hang out with any other homeless people unless they ended up in our group. I knew I could end it anytime I needed, with a phone call but I was waiting until I really got in trouble because I didnt want to take the hit to my pride. Being young and having nothing of monetary value makes you feel your pride is worth something. There were many times and situations where things could have gone wrong. We had some scares. Our group went through many changes with additions and subtractions of people joining and disbanding. We were never involved in any violent crimes while I was living with these people. Finally it became too much for me. I woke up from being passed out in a laundry mat with the cops screaming at me. I said Dave, thats it, Im out. At 2am I called my mother in AZ and my father came down from NH to pick me up 4 days later. Why did I have to wait 4 days? Ill never know. It was a 3 hour drive. Parents are strange even mine who I consider great.
Do I regret it? NO. I would do it all again if I were at that stage in my life. I learned lessons that I would never trade. It is a large part of who I am and I miss the excitement of it all. I find life mundane compared to those months living with such high risk. Having my boys to support me and vice versa. I imagine it is similar to what troops experience on deployment.
Dave didnt have the option to get out. His parents had kicked him out, so he had no exit plan, no one to call to help get away from the craziness. I talked to Dave for the first time in 15 yrs, the first time since he came back from vegas and left again, (thank you facebook) about 2 weeks ago. He is a recovered herion addict who takes methadone and has spent time in state prison in NY. His wife ODd about 5 months ago.
And.... I know I just wrote a freaking book :great: