A sidewalk in Times Square at thirty-six degrees Fahrenheit. A rookie officer kneeling on the ground. A tourist holding her cell phone three feet away, hoping nobody would notice.
November 14, 2012. 9:30 PM. Times Square, Manhattan. A 25-year-old rookie NYPD officer named Larry DePrimo, on foot patrol at the corner of West 44th Street and Broadway, noticed a barefoot man — an Army veteran named Jeffrey Hillman, age 54 — sitting on the cold sidewalk asking for change. Temperatures that night were in the mid-thirties, well below average for mid-November. Larry DePrimo was wearing two pairs of socks inside his own boots and was still cold. A passerby laughed at the homeless man as she walked by. DePrimo went into the Skechers store at 1500 Broadway, bought a $100 pair of all-weather boots (with an employee discount, $75) and a pair of thermal socks. He knelt down on the sidewalk and put them on Jeffrey Hillman's feet himself. Three feet away, an Arizona tourist named Jennifer Foster — civilian spokesperson for the Pinal County Sheriff's Office and a 17-year law enforcement veteran herself — took a photograph she was not supposed to take. Within forty-eight hours, twenty million people had seen it. Within two weeks, the story had become considerably more complicated than anyone wanted it to be.
November 14, 2012, 9:30 PM: West 44th Street and Broadway
If you have ever been in Times Square on a Wednesday night in mid-November — at the cold-but-not-yet-frozen edge of New York autumn, when the sidewalks are still tolerable but the wind off the Hudson has started to remind everyone what winter is about to be like — you have a pretty good visual of where Larry DePrimo was standing at approximately 9:30 PM on November 14, 2012.
The corner of West 44th Street and Broadway is, in any given evening hour, one of the most foot-trafficked places in the United States. Approximately three hundred thousand pedestrians pass through that single intersection on a typical Wednesday night. The neon overhead is constant. The cars rarely move more than two car-lengths at a stretch. The tourists carry shopping bags from the Disney Store and the M&M's superstore. The locals walk faster than the tourists. The homeless population of Times Square — which fluctuates by season but rarely drops below several hundred individuals in any given week — sits, often, in the small protected nooks between buildings, asking for change.
A Rookie Officer at His Foot Post
Larry DePrimo had been an NYPD officer for approximately three years. He was 25 years old. He had grown up on Long Island — in the small middle-class town of Holbrook — and had joined the police department at 22, two years after graduating from high school. He had wanted to be a cop, by his own description, since he was eight years old. He had no military background. He had no particular religious framework. He had what his sergeants described, in his personnel evaluations, as "a steady demeanor" and "a tendency to engage rather than escalate."
On the evening of November 14, 2012, he was assigned to a foot post at the corner of West 44th and Broadway — the kind of post that rookie officers are routinely assigned to during the high-tourist season. He was on duty from 4 PM to midnight. The temperature was approximately 36 degrees Fahrenheit. He was wearing his department-issued winter jacket, his department-issued leather boots, and two pairs of socks inside those boots. He was still cold.
A Passerby Who Laughed
Sometime around 9:25 PM, Larry DePrimo became aware of a man sitting on the sidewalk approximately twelve feet to his right, with his back against the wall of a Walgreens. The man had no shoes. He had no socks. His feet, which were extended forward onto the cold concrete, were visibly bruised.
DePrimo had walked past the man twice already during his shift. He had not, in his own subsequent description, "noticed enough to act." But somewhere around 9:25, a passerby — a young woman in a long coat, walking briskly past — looked at the man's feet, made a small dismissive laughing sound, and kept walking.
Larry DePrimo, by his own later account to the New York Times, has said the sound the woman made was the thing that made him stop and walk over.
" The two things that really stuck out in my mind that night was just how cold it was and that this was the most polite gentleman I ever met. I knew I had to help him. — Officer Larry DePrimo, 25, to NBC's Today Show, November 30, 2012
"Where Are Your Shoes?"
The first thing Larry DePrimo did was walk over and ask. He did not radio it in. He did not call for backup. He did not check whether the man had any outstanding warrants. He walked twelve feet, knelt down so that he was at the same height as the man, and said — politely, in the way that 25-year-olds from Long Island ask things — "Where are your shoes?"
The man looked up. He was, by Larry's later description, "the most polite gentleman I ever met." He smiled. He shook his head, very slightly. He said, in a voice that was both gentle and somewhat detached:
"It's OK, officer. I've never had a pair of shoes. But God bless you and thank you for doing what you're doing."
What Jeffrey Hillman Said First
The man's name was Jeffrey Hillman. He was 54 years old. He had been born in South Plainfield, New Jersey, in 1958. He had served four years in the United States Army. He had, after his discharge, drifted through several states, several jobs, and — as would later become clearer — a long, slow descent into what mental health professionals call "persistent severe mental illness" with intermittent connection to housing assistance and the Veterans Administration.
None of this was, of course, visible to Larry DePrimo at 9:25 PM on November 14, 2012. What was visible was a polite older man, sitting in 36-degree weather, with bare feet on a concrete sidewalk.
Blisters on His Feet, Two Pairs of Socks Inside Larry's Boots
Larry DePrimo looked at Jeffrey Hillman's feet. They were not just bare. They had visible blisters and small open sores from prolonged exposure to concrete, salt residue, and cold. Larry DePrimo would tell the New York Times the next week that he "could see blisters" — and that the sight of them, combined with the sound of the woman's laugh, combined with his own awareness that he himself had two pairs of socks inside his department boots and was still cold, made the next decision automatic.
He asked Jeffrey what size shoe he wore. Jeffrey said size 12. Larry DePrimo radioed his sergeant, briefly, to explain that he was about to step into a store for a few minutes. Then he walked half a block north to the Skechers store at 1500 Broadway.
The Skechers Store at 1500 Broadway
The Skechers store at 1500 Broadway is open until midnight on Wednesdays. It is approximately 220 feet from the corner of West 44th and Broadway. When Larry DePrimo walked in — in full uniform, on duty, badge visible — the night-shift salesman approached him to ask if everything was all right.
The salesman's name has not been publicly recorded in any subsequent reporting. He was, by Larry's later description, "a young guy, maybe nineteen, twenty". Larry explained, in approximately fifteen seconds, what he wanted. He needed a pair of size-12 all-weather boots and a pair of thermal socks, for a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk fifty yards south of the store.
A $100 Pair of Boots, $25 Off
The salesman walked to the back, found the boots — a heavy-duty all-weather lace-up model that retailed for $99.99 — and brought them to the front counter along with a pair of $9 thermal socks. He then, on his own initiative, applied an employee discount. The total at the register came out to approximately $75.00.
Larry DePrimo paid in cash, out of his own pocket. He took the bag. He thanked the salesman. He walked the 220 feet back to the corner of West 44th and Broadway carrying the Skechers bag in his left hand.
The Kneeling Down
What Larry DePrimo did next is the thing that, ultimately, has been the most photographed three-minute sequence of his life.
He walked over to Jeffrey Hillman. He set the Skechers bag down on the sidewalk. He pulled out the thermal socks first. He knelt down on the cold concrete — both knees on the ground — so that he was at the same height as Jeffrey's feet. He said, in a voice that approximately twenty people standing within ten feet of him would later say was "quiet, gentle, almost like he was talking to a kid":
"I have these size 12 boots for you. They are all-weather. Let's put them on and take care of you."
He then, with the gentle, slightly-clumsy carefulness of a 25-year-old who has never put another adult's shoes on, helped Jeffrey Hillman pull on the thermal socks, one at a time. He then helped him put on the all-weather boots, one at a time. He laced them up. Jeffrey Hillman, who had been completely silent through this process, smiled — a small, surprised, almost confused smile.
And three feet away, behind Larry DePrimo's right shoulder, a tourist from Florence, Arizona, was holding her cell phone up, completely still, with her thumb hovering over the camera button.
The Tourist From Florence, Arizona
Jennifer Foster was, in November 2012, the civilian communications director for the Pinal County Sheriff's Office in Florence, Arizona — a small desert town about an hour southeast of Phoenix. She was 47 years old. She had worked in or around law enforcement for seventeen years. She had been visiting New York City with her husband for a long weekend, doing the typical tourist things — a Broadway show, dinner in Little Italy, a slow walk through Times Square at night.
"He Did Not Know I Was Watching"
Jennifer Foster has said, in subsequent interviews, that what made her take out her phone was specifically the quietness of what was happening. There was no commotion. There was no audience. There was no media. There was just one cop, kneeling on the ground in front of one homeless man, putting socks on his feet, with the casual private intentness of two people who happen to be alone together in a city of nine million.
Jennifer Foster pulled out her cell phone — a basic 2012-era flip-camera Android. She held it up. Larry DePrimo did not look up. Jeffrey Hillman did not look up. She framed the shot — the kneeling officer, the seated homeless man, the bag with Skechers logo, the bare extended legs about to be covered — and she pressed the camera button. The shutter sound was quiet enough that neither of the two men noticed.
An Email Sent to the NYPD Facebook Page
Jennifer Foster did not immediately post the photo. She finished her evening in Times Square. She and her husband walked back to their hotel. She thought about the photo for several days. She thought about whether to send it to the New York Daily News (she decided not to — she did not want it to be politicized). She thought about whether to post it on her own Facebook page (she decided not to — her followers were mostly Arizona).
On November 26, 2012, twelve days after she had taken the photo, she emailed it to the official New York City Police Department Facebook page, with a short note explaining what she had witnessed. She included her name, her credentials as a 17-year law enforcement professional, and her assurance that the moment had been completely unstaged.
what Jennifer Foster wrote to the NYPD
"Right when I was about to approach him myself, one of your officers came up behind him. He said, 'I have these size 12 boots for you, they are all-weather. Let's put them on and take care of you.' The officer squatted down on the ground and proceeded to put socks and the new boots on this man. The officer expected NOTHING in return and did not know I was watching. I have been in law enforcement for 17 years. I was never so impressed in my life. I have no doubt that this man and his act of kindness will warm the hearts of many."
November 27, 2012: The NYPD's Facebook Page Lights Up
The NYPD social media team — which in late 2012 consisted of approximately three full-time employees working out of One Police Plaza — received Jennifer Foster's email at 7:42 AM on the morning of Tuesday, November 27, 2012. They confirmed the basic details by Tuesday afternoon. They posted the photo, with Jennifer Foster's quoted text, to the official NYPD Facebook page at approximately 5:30 PM.
600,000 Facebook Likes in 72 Hours
By 10 PM that same evening, the post had 40,000 likes. By the next morning, it had over 100,000. By Thursday evening, November 29 — approximately fifty hours after the original posting — the photo had been liked by more than 600,000 people and shared more than 200,000 times. It had been reposted, by users without attribution, to Reddit's r/pics subreddit; to Imgur; to Twitter; and to roughly forty national news websites.
Mayor Bloomberg, the Today Show, the Cufflinks
New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg, who had not had a particularly easy autumn — Hurricane Sandy had hit the city ten weeks earlier — tweeted about the photo on November 29, 2012: "An important reminder to give back this holiday season." CBS New York ran a feature segment that evening. The Today Show booked Larry DePrimo and Jennifer Foster for a joint live appearance on Friday, November 30. The NYPD Police Commissioner, Ray Kelly, personally presented Larry DePrimo with a pair of department cufflinks at a small ceremony at One Police Plaza.
By December 1, the photo had been viewed by an estimated 20 million people. Larry DePrimo, three years out of high school, a foot-patrol rookie from Holbrook, Long Island, was — for approximately one week — the most famous police officer in the United States.
December 2, 2012: The New York Times Found Jeffrey Hillman
This is the part of the story that, when people remember the iconic photo, they sometimes forget.
On Sunday, December 2, 2012 — five days after the photo had hit the NYPD Facebook page, four days after Mayor Bloomberg's tweet, three days after the 600,000-like milestone, and two days after Larry DePrimo's Today Show appearance — a New York Times metro reporter named Mosi Secret tracked down the man in the photo.
He Was Barefoot Again
Mosi Secret found Jeffrey Hillman on the Upper West Side, near 76th Street and Columbus Avenue. Jeffrey Hillman was barefoot. He had no shoes. He had no socks. He was, in the words of Mosi Secret's December 3 New York Times piece, "approximately the same as he had been on November 14, only with a slightly more crowded news cycle around him."
The boots were gone.
"Those Shoes Are Hidden. They Are Worth a Lot of Money."
Mosi Secret asked, as carefully as a metro reporter can ask, what had happened to the boots. Jeffrey Hillman gave an answer that, in retrospect, has become the second-most-quoted line of the whole story:
" Those shoes are hidden. They are worth a lot of money. I could lose my life over them. — Jeffrey Hillman, 54, to The New York Times, December 2, 2012
It was, depending on how you read it, either a deeply rational fear of being assaulted for a $75 pair of boots on the streets of New York — or a symptom of the persistent mental illness that had been quietly shaping Jeffrey Hillman's life for several decades.
The Apartment in the Bronx Nobody Knew About
Then it got more complicated.
City social-services records — accessed by the New York Times for a December 4 follow-up — revealed that Jeffrey Hillman was not, in any straightforward sense, "homeless." He had been receiving federal Housing and Urban Development rental assistance vouchers, on and off, for nearly a decade. He had access to a small studio apartment in the Bronx, paid for through a federal program for veterans with mental health needs. Whether he was currently using that apartment — or had again left it because his condition made it difficult for him to stay indoors for long stretches — was, by December 2012, unclear.
Jeffrey Hillman's niece, a woman named Alegra Hall, was tracked down by reporters and gave a brief, careful statement: "Jeffrey has his own life, and he has chosen that life, but he knows that our hearts and homes are always open to him."
What This Story Is Actually About
The reason the Larry DePrimo / Jeffrey Hillman story has lingered in American memory for fourteen years — even after the initial feel-good wave receded, even after the complicated aftermath made it briefly fashionable to be cynical about it, even after the social-media news cycle moved on — is that it is, ultimately, about three different things at once. And all three of them are true.
First: A Small Act of Real Kindness Actually Happened
A 25-year-old rookie cop, on his own initiative, on his own time, with his own money, on a cold night, knelt down on a Manhattan sidewalk and put boots on a stranger's feet. None of the subsequent revelations changed the fact of that act. Larry DePrimo did not act for the camera. He did not know the camera was there. He acted because a passerby laughed and he heard her laugh.
Second: A Single Act of Kindness Does Not, By Itself, Solve Homelessness
Jeffrey Hillman was not, in November 2012, a man who needed a pair of boots. He was a man who needed sustained, coordinated, long-term mental health care, housing stability, and the small daily support of a system that had failed him intermittently for thirty years. The boots were a useful thing on a cold night. They were not — and could not have been — a solution to anything more than that. The American media response to the photograph briefly conflated the two things, and then, when it discovered they were not the same thing, briefly punished the photograph for not being the larger thing it had never claimed to be.
Third: That Is Not a Reason to Stop Doing the Small Thing
This is the part that, in 2026, deserves to be said out loud. The fact that one pair of boots cannot fix one man's life does not, in any way, mean that the boots were a waste.
The boots were exactly what they were. They were a pair of all-weather Skechers, size 12, $75 at a Times Square store, given by one young cop to one older veteran on a cold night in November. They mattered for the three hours they were on Jeffrey Hillman's feet between the moment Larry DePrimo laced them up and the moment Jeffrey Hillman, very reasonably, decided to hide them in case somebody assaulted him for them.
If you have ever wondered why people in 2026 still share the photo when it shows up in their feeds — even though most of them know, by now, the complicated aftermath — the answer is that the photo is not actually about boots. It is about what it looks like when somebody decides to engage with another person rather than walk past. That is, in any era, in any city, regardless of any subsequent revelations about the people involved, worth seeing.
A Three-Week Timeline: November 14 – December 5, 2012
Where They Are Now (Early 2026)
Larry DePrimo, NYPD Sergeant
Larry DePrimo is, as of early 2026, a sergeant in the NYPD. He was promoted in 2017, after passing the sergeant's exam on his first attempt. He currently serves in the Patrol Bureau in Queens. He is married, with two young children. He has, with one rare exception, declined media requests since approximately 2014. The one exception was a 2019 brief interview with NBC New York commemorating the seven-year anniversary, in which he said, when asked if he would have done anything differently: "I wouldn't change a thing. Except maybe not get my picture taken."
Jeffrey Hillman, Still Complicated
Jeffrey Hillman has been less easy to track in subsequent years. He turned 68 in 2026. He has continued, intermittently, to receive HUD voucher support. He has continued, intermittently, to spend time on the streets of Manhattan rather than in indoor housing. He has had several extended stays at the Bronx VA Medical Center for psychiatric care. According to a 2023 New York Daily News profile, he was, at that point, living quietly in his Bronx apartment, attending weekly group therapy sessions at the VA, and watching New York Yankees baseball.
Jennifer Foster, Returned to Arizona
Jennifer Foster returned to Florence, Arizona, after her New York trip and continued her work as civilian communications director for the Pinal County Sheriff's Office. She retired from that position in 2019 after twenty-four years in law enforcement communications. She has, in subsequent interviews, said that the photograph is "the most meaningful thirty seconds of any law enforcement work I ever did, and I didn't even take it as a cop."
By the Numbers
Frequently Asked Questions
Q: Where are Larry DePrimo, Jeffrey Hillman, and Jennifer Foster today?
As of early 2026: Larry DePrimo is now a Sergeant in the NYPD's Patrol Bureau in Queens; he was promoted in 2017. He is married with two young children and has mostly declined media requests since 2014. Jeffrey Hillman is 68 years old, intermittently houses in a Bronx apartment via HUD vouchers, and attends weekly VA group therapy. Jennifer Foster retired from law enforcement in 2019 after 24 years and continues to live in Florence, Arizona.
Q: When and where did this happen?
Wednesday, November 14, 2012, at approximately 9:30 PM, at the corner of West 44th Street and Broadway in Times Square, Manhattan. The temperature was approximately 36°F. Larry DePrimo, then a 25-year-old NYPD officer with three years on the job, was on a foot post. Jeffrey Hillman, a 54-year-old Army veteran from South Plainfield, New Jersey, was sitting barefoot on the sidewalk.
Q: How much did Larry DePrimo pay for the boots?
Larry DePrimo paid approximately $75 for a $99.99 pair of Skechers all-weather boots and a pair of $9 thermal socks. The salesman applied an employee discount on his own initiative. DePrimo paid in cash, out of his own pocket. The Skechers store was at 1500 Broadway, approximately 220 feet from where Jeffrey Hillman was sitting.
Q: Who took the photograph?
Jennifer Foster, a 47-year-old civilian communications director for the Pinal County Sheriff's Office in Florence, Arizona, with 17 years of law enforcement experience at the time. She was visiting NYC with her husband on a long weekend. She took the photo with a basic 2012-era Android cell phone. She emailed it to the NYPD Facebook page on November 26, twelve days after taking it.
Q: When did it go viral?
The NYPD posted the photo to its official Facebook page on November 27, 2012, at approximately 5:30 PM. Within 72 hours it had received over 600,000 likes and 200,000 shares. By December 1, the photo had been viewed by an estimated 20 million people across Facebook, Reddit, Twitter, and major news websites.
Q: Was Jeffrey Hillman really homeless?
Complicated. Jeffrey Hillman was receiving federal Housing and Urban Development (HUD) rental assistance vouchers and had access to a studio apartment in the Bronx via a program for veterans with mental health needs. However, his persistent severe mental illness made it intermittently difficult for him to stay indoors. He was sometimes housed and sometimes on the streets. He was, in any straightforward sense, functionally homeless on the night of November 14, 2012.
Q: Why was Jeffrey barefoot again after receiving the boots?
According to his New York Times interview on December 2, 2012, Jeffrey had hidden the boots because he feared being assaulted for them. "Those shoes are hidden. They are worth a lot of money. I could lose my life over them." This concern is, in the context of street homelessness in 2012 Manhattan, broadly consistent with both rational risk assessment and with symptoms of paranoia related to mental illness.
Q: Was Larry DePrimo a veteran himself?
No. Larry DePrimo had no military background. He grew up in Holbrook, Long Island, and joined the NYPD at age 22, two years after graduating from high school. He had wanted to be a cop, by his own description, since he was 8 years old. He had three years on the job at the time of the incident.
Q: Did the NYPD or anyone reimburse Larry DePrimo for the boots?
No. Larry DePrimo paid out of his own pocket and never sought reimbursement. The NYPD's response was Mayor Bloomberg's tweet, cufflinks from Police Commissioner Ray Kelly at a small One Police Plaza ceremony, and the Today Show appearance. Larry DePrimo, in subsequent interviews, has explicitly said he "didn't think anything of it" at the time and was uncomfortable with the celebrity that followed.
Q: What does this story actually tell us about homelessness?
The honest answer is: it tells us that homelessness is fundamentally a problem of mental health, housing systems, and sustained coordinated support — not of individual kindness, however moving any individual act might be. Approximately 650,000 homeless veterans existed in the United States in 2012; that number has, through sustained federal-state-VA coordination, been reduced to approximately 35,000 in 2025. Single pairs of boots do not fix homelessness. Multi-decade housing programs do.
More Stories That Will Restore Your Faith
- 🎖 He Was a 93-Year-Old D-Day Paratrooper. They Hadn't Touched Since 1944.
- ♥ He Found a Wallet in a Dumpster. He Was Homeless. He Made a Phone Call.
- 🐾 The Back Door Was Open. He Climbed the Stairs Into the Fire Instead.
- ★ He Was 22 and Hated Mowing Lawns. The Story of Rodney Smith Jr.
- ♥ Her Doctor Told Her the Baby Had Died. She Lived 69 Years Believing It.
- 🌏 Born on the Same Day in the Same Korean Hospital in 1987.
- 🎖 Three Specific Soldiers. Three Specific Surprises. Three Doors.
- 💛 She Lost Her Son at 7 Months. Three Years Later, She Heard His Heart Beating.
- 🎓 He Was Almost Sent Home From His Own Graduation Because of His Shoes.
- 🗽 His Daughters Were 4 and 6. The Stranger on the Tracks Was 20. He Jumped.
- 🗽 Browse all NYC stories →
- ★ Browse all Police stories →
- ♥ Browse all Homelessness stories →
- 🎖 Browse all Veterans stories →
- 📰 About Kindness Daily →
- 📧 Submit a story →
Sources & Further Reading
Primary news coverage (November-December 2012):
- The New York Times — "Officer's Gift to Barefoot Man Warms Hearts Online" (November 29, 2012)
- The New York Times — "Homeless Man Given Boots in Viral Photo Is Found Shoeless Again" (December 3, 2012)
- TIME — "Barefoot Homeless Man in Viral Web Photo Not Actually Homeless" (December 5, 2012)
- CBS News New York — Sophisticated follow-up coverage
Homelessness & Veterans resources:
No comments:
Post a Comment