Derrick Downs was living on people’s couches in 2008, drinking to forget what he couldn’t process. His mother had died while he was deployed in Iraq the year before. The Army gave him seven days to fly home to rural Alabama, bury her, and get back to his post at Combat Outpost Camp TQ. Four days of that he spent traveling.

“If something happens over there, you just got to deal with it,” Downs says now, sitting on the CSU Pueblo campus with his medical service dog Ellie Mae. “You’re part of the government. You can’t say, I’m just going to stay home.”

He dealt with it the way a lot of veterans deal with trauma they can’t name. He didn’t. After his discharge from Fort Carson in 2007, he stayed in Pueblo and watched the economy collapse around him. No jobs. No address. Couch surfing turned into months, then years. Alcohol became the answer to questions he wasn’t asking.

It took a DUI to change directions. Veterans Treatment Court in Pueblo connected him to a therapist who helped him start unpacking the anxiety, the insomnia, the depression he’d been carrying since Iraq. That was 2021. He was 44 years old.

Now, at 48, Downs is finishing his bachelor’s in construction management. He works 50 hours a week at SEMA Construction, interning on the I-25 Highway 50 project in Belmont. His Reisher Scholarship covers tuition. SEMA has already hired him full time once he graduates in a few months. He plans to start his MBA this summer.

The transformation didn’t happen because Downs suddenly figured everything out on his own. It happened because CSU Pueblo had infrastructure in place to catch him when he was ready to be caught.

During his time in Veterans Treatment Court, Downs met Jesus Rios, who had a master’s in social work and knew the system. Rios suggested he take the placement test at Pueblo Community College (PCC). Downs scored high enough to skip remedial courses. Then Rios told him to “write your story down; apply for scholarships.”

The Kane Family Foundation Scholarship picked him up for a full ride at PCC. There he connected with the TRIO program, which helps first generation college students navigate higher education. When it came time to transfer to CSU Pueblo for construction management, PCC TRIO coordinator Philip Crandall, sat down with him and mapped it all out. Every requirement. Every course. They backtracked to freshman year and identified which classes he could knock out at PCC before transferring.

“If it wasn’t for TRIO and the support that they give, I would not be here,” Downs said last August, standing before a packed luncheon honoring educational equity advocate and CSU Pueblo alum, Arnold Mitchem. Crandall had worked with him on that speech too, helping him with content and public speaking. His wife sat in the audience.

The crowd gave him a standing ovation.

That moment seemed unique, just one veteran’s success story but it demonstrates what’s possible when a university builds real support for veterans instead of processing paperwork. CSU Pueblo operates two veteran service offices. The Military & Veteran Service Center (MVSC) in the Occhiato Student Center, run by Laura Barela and her team, helps veterans navigate VA Education benefits, runs a student lounge, and connects students to VA and community resources. The TRIO Veterans Upward Bound office on the third floor of LARC, run by Jacobo Verela and his team, provides dedicated space where veterans can study, connect with other veteran students, and provides transitional support.

“We see veterans at all stages,” Barela says. “Some come straight from active duty ready to use their benefits. Others take years to get here. Our job is to help them navigate the system no matter when they arrive or what they’re dealing with. We work with the VA, help with paperwork, connect them to mental health resources, and make sure they know about the community of veterans on campus. A lot of veterans don’t realize how much support is available until they walk through our door.”

Downs didn’t realize it either until he needed it. Now he’s become part of that support system himself.

Four years sober, he works as a peer support specialist, helping others navigate recovery. Every Thursday he’s back in the Veterans Treatment Court that helped him, now serving as a mentor to other veterans working through the program. The same court system that processed his DUI helped get his records sealed so he could work there. On Sunday mornings at 9 a.m., he meets with Crazy Faith Street Ministries in a parking lot downtown, distributing food and connecting people to services. His phone stays on 24 hours a day.

“I don’t want someone to give up on themselves because there is a brighter side,” he says. “You just got to put yourself out there and ask for it.”

Veterans are stubborn about asking for help, Downs added. The military mindset that works in uniform doesn’t always translate to civilian life. He was the same way. But he tells struggling veterans they can find mentors on campus; people who understand what it’s like to be in school when you’ve been to war.

On campus, there’s a veteran community that recognizes each other even without formal introductions. Some students use veteran lounges for homework and connections. Others come and go quietly. Having reliable support makes all the difference for students balancing work, family, and the transition to civilian life. He’s been nominated for a Boettcher Foundation Student Leader of the Year award representing CSU Pueblo. His company lets him take Monday and Wednesdaymorning classes, then return for his 2 p.m. class before finishing his workday. Ellie Mae goes everywhere with him, monitoring his stress levels.

“I returned a different person after serving four years in the Army and an 18-month deployment in Iraq,” Downs says. “No matter what you have been through in life we can always attend college. No one can take your education from you.”

Downs represents what’s possible when universities commit real resources to veteran support. CSU Pueblo provided mentorship, peer support, academic advising, and a community of veterans who understood the transition.

The support exists. You just have to show up.