In Miami, a group of men live in a makeshift settlement under a bridge. They're not drifters or off-the-grid—they're convicted sex offenders.

-By Ian Daly
-Photographs by Sasha Bezzubov

By 11 a.m., Juan Martin had given up on trying to sleep. It was October of last year, the morning after one of those rare Miami nights when the swelter gives way to balmy breezes. Even so, Martin had been unable to lose consciousness: Four feet above the cramped space he calls home, the concrete struts of the four-lane bridge that connects Miami Beach to the city 2 ½ miles west had registered every passing car. The night before, some of the other guys who live under the bridge had lit a bonfire on the sandy promontory that juts into the water, eventually turning in as the flames died down. But Martin had lain awake, his eyes fixed on the glittering skyline across the bay, wondering how it had all come to this. How could a handful of men—many with jobs, families, and homes—find themselves living under Miami-Dade County's Julia Tuttle Causeway?