PRESIDIO — On Wednesday morning, some of Presidio County’s most decorated heroes addressed the Commissioners Court about proposed cuts to veterans’ services. County officials are currently in the thick of budget deliberations, digging through their metaphorical couch cushions to try to find ways the cash-strapped local government can save money this upcoming fiscal year.
At last week’s workshop, commissioners discussed a plan hatched by Judge Joe Portillo: to streamline services and save money, he could fold the responsibilities of the Veterans County Service Officer (VCSO) — a $26,000 per year position held until the end of last month by Alcee Tavarez — into the job description of Carina Nuñez, his hard-working executive assistant.
Denise Estrada, the county’s most decorated female veteran, is one of a tiny contingency of servicemembers who can boast three bronze stars, awarded for heroism in a combat zone. Estrada waded through hours of budget deliberations to stand up for what she felt was right, as someone who had personally turned to the VCSO for help in the past. “The VCSO is a very important position, and Presidio County hasn’t been taking it seriously,” she said at last week’s workshop.
To give county residents ample opportunity to discuss the potential cuts, commissioners opted this week to bring the VCSO position out of the workshop process and give it a line item on the official agenda. A handful of veterans from Presidio and Marfa showed up to give their testimony, representing a range of perspectives from different branches, conflicts and generations. “We’ve been forgotten,” said Arturo Jimenez, who served in Vietnam.
There were few dry eyes in the audience as Jimenez gave a moving testimony about the struggles faced by his son, a Navy veteran diagnosed with PTSD. The Jimenezes felt that they’d exhausted all their options and were at the mercy of the legal system, which wasn’t designed to give rehabilitative care to people struggling with a unique kind of trauma. “The VSO has dropped the ball for us,” Jimenez said. “My son suffers every day.”
The Jimenez family’s experience is reflected in grim statistics about young people returning from the armed forces — many of whom get caught in an endless loop of struggle and incarceration as they readjust to civilian life. In 2022, the American Civil Liberties Union estimated that over 180,000 veterans were incarcerated in state or federal prisons nationwide. As immigration enforcement has intensified over the past few presidential administrations, so, too, have accounts of veterans being deported.
As a result of personal and legal turmoil, many end up on the streets. The National Coalition for Homeless Veterans estimates that 5% of all adults experiencing homelessness are veterans.
Those who are able to find housing and gainful employment still struggle in silence. In 2022, the federal government counted 6,407 veterans who died by suicide — an average of 17.6 deaths per day.
In a town as remote as Presidio, the county’s Veterans Services Officer serves as a critical link to a wider net of services. The nearest VA clinic is in Fort Stockton, roughly a two-and-a-half hour drive away. The local VCSO helps veterans navigate the system — they can assist with complicated paperwork like disability claims and Social Security to make sure that former servicemembers are making the most of their benefits.
Precinct 1 Commissioner Deirdre Hisler, who was raised in a military family, ran the numbers: there are 139 veterans in Presidio County receiving services. She estimated that those 139 veterans contributed nearly $2.3 million to the local economy by spending their benefits close to home. “I want this court to understand the value of our veterans in Presidio County,” she said.
Judge Portillo — himself a veteran — explained that he wasn’t trying to degrade the quality of veterans’ services, but was instead trying to be realistic about the county’s population decline. As census counts in Presidio and Marfa have slumped, the number of county employees has remained stable. “This doesn’t come from a place of not caring about veterans — I would like to think that I care more about veterans than most,” he said.
The commissioners ultimately opted to heed Estrada’s advice and use the empty VCSO position as an opportunity to breathe new life into the office, rather than making a cut. They voted unanimously to advertise for qualified candidates to apply to the open position, which by law will eventually need to be published in The Big Bend Sentinel and Presidio International.
Estrada was grateful for the positive momentum and hoped the office could serve future generations of veterans in the same way she’d been served. “Because of the VCSO, I am standing here today — and I thank God for that.”