One of my most WTF moments (regarding living people anyway) was responding to a domestic disturbance call on a reserve back when I was a rookie and not completely jaded to the realities of the situation in a lot of northern Canadian reserves. The house looked like your stereotypical low income, hillbilly horror show. Lawn made of mud, tires, and car frames. Literally tonnes of garbage strewn all over the place. The man we were looking for had a lot of warrants out for his arrest for various things such as failure to appear and the like. I didn't expect the inside to make the outside look like a well manicured palatial estate.
Inside was some of the most egregious shit I have ever laid eyes on. The floor was a mess of broken bottles, mold, rotting carpet, cans, pizza boxes, fried chicken buckets, bones and the smell was a mixture of rotten milk and shit. In the kids' room we found 3 barely clothed young boys and a baby girl with a bottle filled with, and I shit you not, Coca Cola. The mother was passed out absolutely hammered drunk in the bedroom with the look of being recently beaten. We searched the house and had figured that the man had bolted as he usually did whenever we were called out (it's an hours drive from the detachment to this particular reserve). So, we called for an ambulance and for social services (usually fruitless, it takes at least two murders to take kids away from situations like these it seems).
While we were waiting my partner and I heard some scratching in the closet. We had checked the closet earlier and hadn't seen anything through the mess. I opened it and continued to hear something coming from the wall. Upon closer inspection we found the man we were looking for had carved himself a cubby inside the wall of his closet and he would hide in whenever we were called (he was incredibly skinny). We later learned he had evaded capture multiple times this way.
The joys of being an understaffed detachment in the middle of such a vast stretch of squalor and misery.