For the thousands of homeless people who live in Toronto, winter represents the most challenging and dangerous season. Heavy snowfall crushes tents and cold rains leak through them, damaging belongings and soaking sleeping pads. When Khaleel Seivwright surveyed the city’s housing crisis last autumn, he hoped that his background in carpentry could be of some help. Within weeks, his tiny wooden houses began appearing in city parks. But the story of a carpenter whose modest structures came to represent housing inequities within Canada’s largest city took a tragic turn this month when a man was killed by a fire. Days later, Toronto announced it would begin enforcing a court injunction barring Seivwright from moving or maintaining his wooden shelters, which officials described as a fire hazard. The tragedy, and the city’s response has, infuriated advocacy groups, who argue that the authorities are pursuing legal action against Seivwright while failing to address chronic problems in the public housing system. “They’re vilifying somebody who is literally doing the job they haven’t been able to do,” said Lorraine Lam, a Toronto-based outreach worker. “It’s completely unjust.” The city’s homelessness crisis has worsened over the years as demand for accessible housing has far outstripped supply. More than 10,000 people are living without access to housing — a figure that has probably increased throughout the coronavirus pandemic. The city has said there is plenty of space in homeless shelters, but outreach workers such as Lam say those facilities are often full or seen as unsafe. With the coronavirus pandemic adding another layer of risk, residents often make the difficult decision to sleep outside. In late 2020, as winter approached, Seivwright tried to help. He began building small portable structures, using donated supplies and funds. Each unit, which took eight hours to construct, came equipped with fibreglass insulation, a fire alarm, carbon monoxide detector and locks and cost nearly C$1,000 (US$786) to produce. As news of his project spread, the carpenter was quickly inundated with donations, raising more than C$200,000. For those using Seivwright’s shelters, they represented a warmer, safer option than braving the deep cold of winter. “Compared to being on a park bench or a tent or anywhere else outside, it’s saved my life basically,” said one tiny house resident. “I think it’s one of the best things that could happen for this city right now … Without it, people would be dropping left, right and centre.” City officials saw the small structures as a safety hazard. In November, officials wrote a letter to Seivwright demanding that he “cease the production, distribution, supply and installation” of the shelters, adding that he would be held responsible for any removal costs. An online petition has received more than 80,000 signatures protesting against the city’s response. But on 12 February, the city escalated, filing an application for an injunction that would stop Seivwright from making, fixing and relocating small wooden shelters on city-owned land, arguing the shelters were unsafe. Days later, a fire killed a man inside a wooden structure. City officials, who haven’t yet released the cause of the fire or identified the victim, did not say if the structure was one made by Seivwright, but nonetheless announced they would seek to enforce the injunction. “These structures are not permitted and they are not legal,” said Brad Ross, a spokesman for the city of Toronto, to the Guardian. The city has added overflow capacity when needed, he said, and taken steps to ensure shelters are safe during the pandemic. “The city’s position is that it’s safer inside than it is outside.” Seivwright has pleaded with the city to drop the legal action against him, arguing the funds used to pursue him could be better allocated. “The city of Toronto has a housing crisis. This pandemic has made it worse,” he said in a video statement on Monday – his first public remarks since the city’s decision to enforce the injunction. “Instead of working with me, the city sued to stop me from building and relocating the tiny shelters. The problem is not the tiny shelters. The problem is that Toronto’s most vulnerable people are falling through the cracks.” For housing advocates, Seivwright’s work speaks to a broader crisis throughout the city, one in which residents in need of long-term shelter are unable to find housing. Last year, 74 shelter residents died, the worst year on record. Their average age was 50 years old. “None of us are out here celebrating that people are living in tiny wooden shelters. But these literally are last resorts for people,” said Lam, adding that the wait time for subsidized housing can reach 12 years for a one-bedroom apartment. “People just want housing and they’re literally dying waiting for it.”