Mark Seifert tours reporters around streets more reminiscent of Baghdad than Cleveland, Ohio.
They are deserted. The homes are boarded up, covered in graffiti. Once residential neighbourhoods, they are now hangouts for drug dealers.
At the end stands a nice, little ranch with a kept garden. It's the home of an elderly couple who have lived here for decades. Their mortgage is paid off but the value of their home has depreciated by half. They cannot sell. They have nowhere to go.
"You really have to feel for them. They are all alone here," says Seifert. "It's a warzone."
Warzone, indeed. When the executive director of Empowering and Strengthening Ohio's People conducts tours for veteran journalists, they are blown away. One journalist who covered Hurricane Katrina said the streets looked like New Orleans - the only difference after Katrina were the marks labelling which houses had bodies inside.
"Black, white. Young, old. It's affecting everyone," says Seifert. "This is America."
You can hear the frustration in Seifert's voice. The man has every right to be frustrated. For years, Seifert has worked with people facing foreclosure due to subprime loans. Despite his hard work, the crisis has spread beyond Cleveland's borders and into the heart of the American dream.
Seifert's story goes back to 1999 when his organization focused on lobbying efforts like getting more crossing guards. Suddenly, residents stopped coming to meetings. Seifert called to ask why and found their phone lines were cut. The community members were losing their homes.
"We didn't even know what predatory lending was at the time. I don't think it was a term that was used," he says. "But we knew we had a problem."
Quickly, Seifert changed his focus. Rather than lobbying for crossing guards, he was throwing plastic sharks on the lawns of bank executives to protest lending practices. His organization doubled its staff, hiring loan counsellors to renegotiate mortgages and prevent foreclosure.
But, Cleveland was only the epicentre of the growing battlefield. There, entire neighbourhoods were foreclosed on while Seifert's organization was overwhelmed by mortgage workouts, going from 1500 in 2007 to almost 3700 this year.
Seifert watched what he says could have been prevented.
"What we're talking about isn't rocket science," he says. "I mean, wake up guys. You shouldn't have been making loans without asking for a pay stub. With that one little thing, we could have stopped the crisis."
"Now, it's destroying our economy and it's being exported around the world."
In the end, Seifert places the majority of the blame on the government. He says they could have taken action by regulating the industry rather than ignoring the problem until it affected a less marginalized population.
"This became a crisis because white, middle-class people started losing their homes," he says. "Before that, nobody gave a damn. When it was predominantly lower-class African-Americans, nobody cared."
What Seifert can take solace in the fact his organization has an 85 percent success rate in renegotiating mortgages. Through their mortgage counselling program, they have been able to negotiate monthly interest rates to ensure people can keep their homes.
Small victories, but nonetheless important on this economic minefield.
All the while, Seifert watches while the government draws up a $700 billion bailout to save the biggest casualties. Not enough, says Seifert. The bailout may help the banks but does nothing for ordinary American's who have been left homeless as they struggle with their mortgage payments.
These are people who wanted a home. People who were simply living the American dream.
"We just don't think people should have been set up to fail," he says.