A band of 1,500 homeless people have taken over an intricate network of abandoned tunnels under Las Vegas.

Numerous residents, who reject being called ‘mole people’ and instead wish to be known as the local unhoused community, struggle with serious mental health issues and drug addiction. They often spend their time panhandling along the Strip in Sin City.

But after dark, they retreat underground to the concrete network that stretches approximately 600 miles, originally constructed in the 1990s to manage flash flooding.

On a Tuesday afternoon in the sweltering heat, I ventured to a tunnel near the ultraluxe Bellagio Resort & Casino. 

Making our way through a broken chain link fence that runs along the freeway by San Rancho Drive, I climbed down a large rock to get to the wash – a pathway that leads beneath the city.

It was littered with trash and debris, rocks and gravel, a broken-down stroller, luggage, bicycle tires, a thermos, beach chairs, knapsacks, bedding, blankets and pillows.

People loitered, and as I walked toward the tunnel – the hot air bringing an unwelcome, lingering smell – I met Josh as he sat against a nearby wall taking drags off his cigarette and placing empty bottles into a black garbage bag.

Josh, 45, said he lives mainly in the Palace Station area of the tunnels, but has another setup in a more private tunnel about two miles long where he likes to spend his time.

Most people, he said, were nice, but noted there were sectors of the underground network where alleged gang members live, which is strictly off-limits. 

‘There are spikes and s*** running through the wall, and if you run through there you can mash your face,’ he said, adding that there he also is has to avoid the gnashing, three-legged dogs that live in the tunnels. 

Josh held a scythe – which earned him the nickname ‘Grim Reaper’ – as led me to the mouth of the tunnel, which was gated with large metal beams obstructing the way. He moved the sharp, curved blade up and down in the air.

While peering through the gate at what little I was able to see, it started to rain. As the skies opened, the scraggly three-legged dog came peeking through the barrier. The animal moved toward a woman with short, dark hair holding a hammer before it disappeared into the depths of the darkness.

The rain was loud and unexpected. Josh said it hadn’t rained in six months and smiled as the water gave some relief from the scorching temperatures.

‘I like the rain, but I got a lot of s*** that will get wet,’ he said.

If it rains a lot, he said, the tunnels flood and it can become dangerous. Fortunately, the bout of weather didn’t last long.

Inside the dark tunnel, the floors looked wet and there were items strewn about: cardboard boxes filled with plastic containers, luggage, dirty sheets and towels, a yellow construction helmet, a cooler, knapsacks, open water bottles, a black and white button-down shirt, utensils, a lid to a pot, bicycle tires, baby items and spoiled food still left in their containers.

Then, I met Josh’s friend Tim, though most people in the tunnels know him as ‘Boston,’ named after his hometown.

The 43-year-old has been living in the tunnels for the last four years with his girlfriend and dog after his truck broke down. He was unable to pay the $700 to get it back on the road, so he never left Vegas and became homeless.

‘I had to earn my spot in the tunnels,’ said Tim, who became addicted to painkillers after an injury at his construction job. 

‘There is a little bit of an hierarchy, they don’t like outsiders. I know people who have been down there well over 20 years – they like the way they are doing things, and that is how they want it and don’t want to just let anyone in there.’ 

Josh and Tim said they look out for each other.

Also claiming to look out for the residents is Shine A Light, which focuses specifically on those who live in the tunnels.

Rob Banghart, vice president of community integration at the Shine A Light Foundation, which serves the homeless community, told me he was addicted to heroin for 20 years. He started acting out at 13, and by 17, he had spent three years behind bars for charges stemming from drug trafficking.

He said up until seven years ago, he was homeless for five years, two-and-a-half of which he spent living in the tunnels.

‘You get used to the darkness. Once you settle in it is just the norm,’ Banghart, 46, said. ‘It is a little smelly and the air is thicker. You can feel it. It is not fresh air. When you are in there and it is typically five to 10 degrees different than what is going on outside.’

He said Shine A Light staffs five case workers and offers an 18-month program called ‘the unbroken chain of case management’, where individuals are provided resources to help them detox and kick their addiction, get legal services, find employment and housing, and help them achieve long-term stability.

The recipient, however, needs to want and be willing to change their life. 

There are also 350 active participants in the organization, and the team frequently walks the dark tunnels, hoping they can help others find ‘the light’.

Recalling his time living underground, Banghart recounted the violence. One time, he was nearly killed by three men over a suitcase of valuables he found while dumpster diving.

‘They attacked me,’ he said. ‘They cracked my skull twice with a hatchet. They hit me with a pipe a bunch of times. They stabbed me in the leg and broke my jaw and lacerated my liver. They killed me. They dragged me on the train tracks and let me for dead.’

Josh, however, said he never feels in danger, but is prepared to defend himself when necessary.

‘It’s alright, you have to be a little gangster because you run into crazy people, but you pin them up against the wall with an ax and they cool out, usually.’

Josh worked as a chef for 20 years and proudly boasted he was Mensa level, meaning he has a high IQ. He said he hit hard times after getting involved with ‘evil’ women who allegedly spent all his money.

At the high point of his life, he was living in a luxury building in Vegas, driving a nice car, and working as a five-star Uber driver making what he considered to be plenty of money. It all came to an end right before Covid, he said. 

It is unclear whether drugs were part of his downfall, though he was open about his current drug of choice, crystal meth.

‘I like doing crystal that is about it,’ he said. ‘If you are not doing it for fun, you are wasting the money.’

When asked, he said the last time he got high was ‘this morning’. 

While the people around him like doing fentanyl, he thinks it is a bad choice ‘because if you hold it in for too long, you die.’ He said he ‘lost almost 10 friends’ to the synthetic opioid since the start of 2025. 

‘They used to do heroin and then [fentanyl] came out and everyone switched. It is crazy how the switch happened,’ he said.

As far as food, Josh is a scavenger. 

‘I just go out and find it. If you know where to look, there is food everywhere,’ he said.

‘Right down the road, they throw out fresh food. A few days ago, they had this big a** dumpster of food – all these mangoes and white peaches. I don’t know how they stay in business for that type of loss.’

Josh described his life for the past five years as ‘kind of fun’. He is in two to three different relationships. ‘I’m busy but always down for some strangers,’ he noted.

And he has no interest in working with Shine A Light.

‘After living like this, I don’t know if I would want to do any type of housing program. I don’t want people telling me when to go to sleep or who I can have over,’ he explained.

‘Some of those apartments that I see people go to, you can’t even bring a friend over, and the property managers… are looking for a reason to evict them.’

In a typical day for Josh, he said he wakes up ‘whenever’ and spends time looking for valuables.

‘I usually have people come by and burn my day with stupid questions. Like, if I have this tool or something,’ he said. ‘I like treasure hunting. I have a good feeling for when I find something.’

He said he recently found a few ounces of gold and pounds of silver at another tunnel he visited. 

When I asked him what he was going to do for the rest of the day, he turned toward the pile of empty bottles and said, ‘I am going to finish that just in case it rains’. He said it took him the whole morning to collect the bottles, which was worth about $200. 

But there’s always the risk of losing it all, he noted. Just days prior, Josh said the police swept the tunnels and wiped out his neighbors’ belongings with bulldozers. 

‘Everything you might have saved, you need to start over again,’ he said. ‘But I am able to find things fast.’

His private tunnel was loaded up with items he found on his treasure hunting journey. When asked if he missed his old life, he smiled and said, ‘I don’t miss the old life because it’s a lot of pageantry. I don’t like kissing a** for no reason. I refuse to do that anyway.’ 

While Josh believes he could easily break away from the tunnels whenever he wanted, Tim was not so hopeful.

He said he had never seen such a high concentration of homeless people. 

‘Especially being in Las Vegas, all the money that comes through here,’ he said. ‘The casinos and everything – we are talking about a lot of places that have the means to help, but they rather keep you down and just try and sweep you under the carpet.’

But Banghart – who condemned the ‘derogatory’ nickname ‘mole people’ – is one of the many success stories to come out of Shine A Light, and in the City of Second Chances, he wants to help.

‘It is dehumanizing to say that they are less than what they are: our sisters and brothers having a hard time.’