Empowe Native Voice Community

OKMULGEE, Oklahoma– On May 5 many Indigenous people across the country wore red or conducted some type of memorial to participate and raise awareness for Missing and Murdered Native Women and Girls.

According to the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center (NIWRC), the National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Native Women and Girls (MMIWG) was introduced by a resolution. This resolution was in memory of Hanna Harris (Northern Cheyenne) who was murdered in July 2013. The resolution was introduced in April 2016, the same day RoyLynn Rides Horse (Crow) passed away.

‘The National Day of Awareness, is meant to commemorate victims, survivors and their families of those who have gone through being abducted or murdered,’ Senior Native Affairs Advisor of the NIWRC, Elizabeth Carr said in an interview with Mvskoke Radio.

The NIWRC, hosted a number of events on May 5 including webinars, interviews, Twitter chat and Twitter storm. It is easier for NIWRC to get their message out through social media since it is more privilent.

‘We are really thankful for May 5 to be recognized as the National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls,’ Carr said.

According to Carr, this year will be the second time President Trump has declared May 5 as National Day of Awareness for MMIWG.

‘Anytime we can get attention out of national level it is a positive thing,’ Carr said. ‘He has also established the Operation Lady Justice Task Force.’

The Operation Lady Justice Task Force is represented under federal agencies perspective, for the future NIWRC hopes if the task force continues that they get feedback from tribal communities to improve their focus levels.

‘There is a lack of data on the number of missing and murdered indigenous women in the country, so it’s hard to quantify in terms of the crisis on this,’ Carr said. ‘But by raising awareness we have received a lot more attention both from Congress and federal agencies.’

With the attention from Congress and federal agencies it has lead to a proposed legislation that will help tribal nations address the MMIW crisis.

‘Due to the COVID-19 that legislation has not yet happened, this COVID crisis has really impacted the movement of a lot of those bills as they move forward in Congress,’ Carr said. ‘So we continue to push forward and advocate to get those bills moving, to bring resource to tribal communities, to improve data collection and to focus on the issue from ground level instead of federal level.’

Many women are bringing awareness by dressing out in their traditional clothing and wearing a red hand print across their face. According to Carr, she said the more attention brought to the issue, the more people learn about it and realize it is an actual crisis.

‘Any awareness such as Native women taking a stand saying, ‘enough is enough’ that we are here to demand a change that this crisis be ended is a powerful imagery,’ Carr said.

The Crisis of Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women
On May 5 of this year, thousands of people across the country took part in marches, forums, community gatherings, and vigils, mourning and bearing witness to a relentless tragedy. Most people at these events wore red, and some bore a red handprint painted across their mouths–a symbol for the thousands of indigenous women over the years who have been murdered or gone missing.

Women like Hanna Harris, Kaysera Stops Pretty Places, Ashley Loring Heavyrunner and unfortunately many, many more.

Since 2017, May 5 has been set aside as a National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls. May 5 is the birthday of Hanna Harris, a 21-year-old tribal citizen of the Northern Cheyenne Tribe who went missing and was found murdered on the Northern Cheyenne Reservation in 2013. This day, in addition to grassroots advocacy efforts and recent films Say Her Name and Somebody’s Daughter (1492– ), have garnered broader public attention to the crisis

“I’m lucky enough that within my immediate circle I have not had anybody go missing. I’ve had cousins and cousins of cousins be murdered or go missing. It would almost be unbelievable to non-Native people to realize the prevalence of this issue,” said Trish Hurtubise. Hurtubise is a member of the Couchiching First Nation in Ontario, Canada and works as a genetic genealogist specializing in Indigenous cases. She recently assisted the DNA Doe Project in identifying an Indigenous woman who had been found murdered in 1980.

Of all groups in the United States, Native women face the highest rates of violence. According to data collected by the US Department of Justice, in some US counties the murder rates of Native women are ten times the national average. The same report reveals that Native women are almost three times as likely to experience r**e or s*xual assault compared to white, Black or Asian women. A report published in 2016 additionally suggests that in*******al violence against Native women (and Native men) is more prevalent than intraracial violence, that is, most violent acts are committed by non-Native perpetrators.

National data on the number of missing Native women at any given time is hard to come by due to varied reporting requirements and the fluctuation of people going missing and being found again. However, the numbers that are available reveal some of the barriers to addressing the crisis. According to the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA), in 2016, there were 5,712 reports of missing Native women and girls, but only 116 of those cases had been logged into the NamUs database. Most of the collected data focuses on cases for reservation residents, but over half of people that identify as Indigenous actually live in urban areas, suggesting that these values are likely undercounted.

Ellie Bundy, the Presiding Officer of Montana’s Missing Indigenous Persons (MIP) Task Force, shared that Native women are about twice as likely to go missing in Montana compared to non-Natives. Bundy also serves as a tribal council member and Treasurer for the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes of the Flathead Indian Reservation.

The reason why this crisis of murdered and missing Indigenous women and girls exists cannot be traced to a single source, nor does it have a single solution. However, one major factor at play is the legal ambiguity and confusion regarding jurisdiction on cases that occur on tribal lands or involve Indigenous people. The pervasiveness of this crisis, in addition to the systemic structures that place Indigenous people in a position of vulnerability, represent to many a continuation of the violence Indigenous people have experienced for generations.

Who’s in Charge Here?

When a person is reported missing or when a body is found, the first 24 to 48 hours of the subsequent investigation are critical. However, when the individual in question is Indigenous or if the body is found on tribal land, the jurisdictional authority depends on several factors. Determining the nature of the crime, the race or ethnicity of the victim and perpetrator, and the location where the crime took place all delay investigations.

“When a person goes missing, it often isn’t known whether it’s related to a criminal act. Figuring out if there is a link to a crime and then identifying who should investigate it takes time,” wrote Bundy in an email.

The US Constitution grants the federal government the right to jurisdiction over crimes committed in Indian country where no congressional grant of jurisdiction to state government over the Indian country involved exists. Within the federal government, the BIA holds these responsibilities.

Some of the major legislation and legal rulings that grant states jurisdiction are the Major Crimes Act, the General Crimes Act and Oliphant v. Suquamish Indian Tribe (1978). In Oliphant, the US Supreme Court ruled that federally recognized tribes do not have the jurisdictional authority to prosecute non-Indigenous people for crimes committed on tribal land. Additionally, there are six states (California, Minnesota, Nebraska, Oregon, Wisconsin and Alaska) that are governed by Public Law 280, which gives the state criminal jurisdiction in all crimes committed on reservation land.

A poster from the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center (NIWC) outlines the complexity of this jurisdictional question (Table 1). “Major Crimes” refers to crimes outlined in the Major Crimes Act, which include murder and s*x crimes under Chapter 109A.

Source: NIWC.

Furthermore, the legal question of jurisdiction is still very much in flux. For example, the US Supreme Court recently expanded state jurisdiction over crimes committed in Indian Country. In the case of Oklahoma v. Victor Manual Castro-Huerta (2022), the court granted the state of Oklahoma (which is not governed by PL-280) jurisdiction of crimes committed by non-Indian perpetrators against Indians in Indian country .

“We have families in the state who have had to conduct their own investigations while waiting for a jurisdiction to own their case and work it,” wrote Bundy. “That is absolutely unacceptable on every level.”

Beyond the complex question of jurisdiction, however, legal authorities also must choose to open, investigate and prosecute cases. Furthermore, as Bundy points out, many of the people who are reported missing live in isolated, remote areas and law enforcement agencies often lack sufficient resources. As a result, victims and their cases fall through the cracks.

What is Being Done?

Thanks to tireless advocacy work and increasing public pressure and awareness, the US federal government has taken several steps to help address the murdered and missing indigenous women and girls (MMIWG) crisis.

First passed in 1994, the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) was one of the first pieces of comprehensive federal legislation that acknowledged s*xual assault and domestic violence as crimes and was designed to protect women from violence. VAWA is up for renewal every five years, with successive reauthorizations often improving and expanding upon the act’s existing programs and protections. The 2013 reauthorization included provisions for crimes that occurred on Tribal lands. The latest reauthorization from 2022 expanded jurisdiction of Tribal courts over non-Native perpetrators on tribal lands, increased support for survivors of violence, including LGBTQ+ individuals, and reauthorized existing VAWA grant programs.

Congress has also passed a few acts in recent years that offer more targeted support in addressing the MMIWG crisis. Savanna’s Act was passed in 2020 and aims to improve coordination between law enforcement agencies in cases of missing or murdered indigenous persons. The act was named after 22-year-old Savanna Lafontaine-Greywind, a member of the Spirit Lake Nation, who was murdered while eight months pregnant. In 2021, the Not Invisible Act was passed, mandating the formation of a commission to investigate ways to reduce violent crimes against American Indians and Alaska Natives. Also in 2021, Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland announced the formation of a Missing and Murdered Unit within the BIA that will help lead and coordinate federal investigations of MMIP cases.

At the local level, many states have implemented MMIP task forces. The Montana MIP task force that Bundy serves on holds community listening sessions, provides testimony in relevant upcoming legislation, works to educate community and law enforcement members, and more.

A lot of this work involves educating Native peoples about the risks they face and equipping them with the knowledge to protect themselves and each other.

“I have only presented to one high school so far, but the experience made me realize that I need to get into all of our reservation schools,” wrote Bundy. “About 10 students approached me after to thank me and share that they had no idea about the reality of this, one even stating ‘Those girls you shared stories about were just like us.’”

On an individual level, there are also people taking steps to support safe and whole Indigenous communities, who find themselves not only facing the current injustices of the MMIWG crisis, but also the ripple effects of past injustices that separated Native peoples from their families and tribes.

Hurtubise started her work as a genealogist when searching for her half-brother. He had been separated from their family during Canada’s “Sixties Scoop”, a series of government policies, including residential schools, where Indigenous children were placed in non-Native families. Similar schools were setup in the US to remove Indigenous children from their families and cultural influences. Using genealogical tools and online DNA databases, Hurtubise managed to identify and reconnect with her half-brother. She now specializes in using genetic genealogy to help connect other Indigenous families.

Last year, Hurtubise launched Indigenetics, a non-profit aimed at expanding representation of Indigenous profiles in genetic databases. Since the organization is predominantly supported through volunteer efforts, Hurtubise has been sewing and selling ribbon skirts to help fund a group website, informational mailers and DNA ancestry kits.

As a frequent user of genetic databases in her work, Hurtubise notes that current databases are in a woeful state when it comes to representation of Indigenous people. Often, Native profiles are lumped in with other racial and ethnic groups, like Hispanic or Pacific Islander. She also encounters a lot of mistrust when encouraging other Indigenous people to submit samples to these databases. Some legal rights for Indigenous people, freedom of movement, for example, are intimately tied to genetic identity and are contingent upon an individual’s ability to prove their percentage of Indigenous blood is at least 50%. The people Hurtubise talks to are concerned that adding their genetic data to these databases could potentially be used against them to take away those rights.

Hurtubise’s hope is that these profiles will help connect separated families and identify remains from residential schools and missing persons cases. Identification of these remains can offer answers for grieving families and communities and help bring closure and healing.

For those within the forensics community, Hurtubise urges: “Create safe spots for people to do their tests and become an ally to this battle of identification. Take on cases. We’re identifying remains that have been found, but there are going to be future remains. We’re dealing with past, present and future right now, and it’s a monumental task and it’s a monumental sadness.”

Where’s the Media Attention for Missing Indigenous Women?

Today, has more than 956 million views on TikTok. Six law-enforcement agencies, including the FBI, devoted resources to finding her. Her case was mentioned “398 times on Fox News, 346 times on CNN, and 100 times on MSNBC” in a seven-day period ending on September 22, according to the Washington Post.

But had she been an Indigenous woman, this almost certainly would not have happened. We know this because in Wyoming, where she went missing, 710 Indigenous people — most of them women and girls — disappeared in the last decade, according to a recent report. Researchers also found that local and state media covered only 18 percent of cases of Indigenous women murdered in the state between 2000 and 2019. For white homicide victims, that number was 51 percent.

Petito’s case went viral due to social-media sleuths, and the media followed with its wall-to-wall coverage. But before her, we had seen this same thing play out over and over again: Desperate loved ones brought a case to the media, which remains overwhelmingly white. Journalists raised the case’s profile, which in turn made the public become deeply invested. This forced law enforcement to prioritize the case and deploy considerable resources, leading to more media coverage.

The problem with this self-perpetuating cycle is that marginalized people, especially Indigenous women and girls, barely receive any attention even when there’s extensive evidence showing that they suffer disproportionate amounts of gender violence. In fact, American Indian and Alaska Native women living on tribal lands are murdered at rates more than ten times the national average, according to the U.S. Department of Justice.

“It really is sad just how little has changed in terms of the kinds of stories that are getting attention,” says Connie Walker, an award-winning journalist who has spent years reporting on the crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW). Her most recent project, the podcast Stolen: The Search for Jermain, investigates the disappearance of Jermain Charlo, a young mother and Confederated Salish and Kootenai tribal member, who vanished after a night out in Missoula, Montana, in 2018. Walker has observed the media frenzy around Petito’s case with deep frustration. “Obviously it’s tragic what has happened to her and what her family is going through. My heart goes out to them,” she says. “But I think that, as an Indigenous woman, it’s really saddening when I think of women like Jermain Charlo and what the kind of attention that Gabby Petito has gotten in the last few weeks would have meant for her family and her case.”

Walker spoke with the Cut about the similarities she sees between Charlo and Petito, how true-crime reporting should be done ethically, and why Indigenous women and girls deserve the same attention and resources as white female victims.

Tell me about the crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) in North America and how it’s covered by the media.

It’s not an exaggeration to say there’s a crisis of violence [that] Indigenous women and girls face in Canada and in the United States. The rates of violence — whether you’re talking about being murdered, being s*xually assaulted, being physically assaulted, being emotionally abused — are incredibly high in Indigenous communities. That is not reflected in what we see in the media coverage and true crime specifically. That might be why it’s surprising to people. Most of the docuseries, podcasts, and other kinds of stories that focus on this issue of violence against women usually focus on white women, like Gabby Petito. I can’t help but think of Jermain’s family and what it’s like for them watching this unfold. And not just Jermain’s family — the sad reality is there are hundreds, if not thousands, of other Indigenous families who also probably are watching this and longing for that kind of attention and those kinds of resources.

One of the reasons why Gabby’s case went viral was because her disappearance was mysterious and lent itself to a lot of theories that true-crime fans live for, especially online. But I couldn’t help but think as I was preparing for this interview that Jermain’s case was kind of similar, right? The way she vanished, the theories about who could be behind her disappearance. It had all the elements for it to become a national story, and yet, that didn’t happen.

Exactly. She was very active on social media. She was a very attractive young woman. Her family was also immediately concerned because Jermain was not responding to their texts and not posting anything. The difference is that it took a lot of lobbying and effort for them to even report her missing and then, once she was reported missing, for police to take her case seriously. The attention focused on Gabby Petito’s case didn’t just result in a lot of headlines — it also influenced the reaction of law enforcement. I was watching on CNN about how they were searching every inch of this area where she was thought to have been.

I can’t help but think about Jermain and what those kinds of resources would have meant for her family, who, like Gabby’s family, are just desperate for information. Jermain’s family is still waiting for answers. It’s been over three years. They still haven’t been able to find her. They haven’t been able to bring her home. There has been no one held responsible for her disappearance and there are so many other Indigenous families who are in the same boat. I’ve been doing this kind of reporting for years, and I’ve heard from so many families that the police didn’t take their loved one’s death or disappearance seriously. They are not only being affected by disproportionate rates of violence in our communities, but then having to become advocates who are pushing law enforcement.

This crisis of violence, and the way it has been ignored, has been going on for a long time. I mean, Gwen Ifill coined the term “missing white woman syndrome” in 2004. What is necessary then to break the cycle we’ve been stuck in as the media?

We have to ask: Why are there some cases that break out and that get more attention? The answer to that is taking a look at ourselves and who is in these newsrooms. Who are the people who are getting to decide which stories are really important, which stories Americans care about?

The very first story that I pitched to my editor about a missing Indigenous woman was back in 2006. I was working on a national news current-affair show in Toronto and a girl that I knew from back home had gone missing. Her name was Amber Redman, and I remember hearing about her disappearance in an email chain asking people to look for her. It was the same summer that a woman named Alicia Ross went missing in Markham, Ontario. She was blonde and white. I remember thinking that these cases were so similar. But Alicia’s case was on the cover of the national newspapers and it was covered by the national newscast, and Amber’s case barely got any local coverage. I went in to my editor to pitch a story about the media coverage of these two cases. She held up her hand and she said, “This isn’t another poor Indian story, is it?”

Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry.

That was the attitude in 2006. It really is sad just how little has changed in terms of the kinds of stories that are getting attention in 2021. This also really has to do with trying to increase representation in newsrooms and how are we going to support the people once we bring them in. How many Indigenous correspondents are at CNN or at NBC? How many Indigenous journalists work at the New York Times or the Washington Post? We really need to have more Indigenous journalists who are bringing these stories forward. You don’t have to be an Indigenous journalist to tell a story about MMIW, but we can tell stories and we should be given the support and space to tell them. We have the expertise and the lived experience to understand the really complex issues that are behind this disproportionate rate of violence that Indigenous women and girls face.

Something else that’s contributed to “missing white woman syndrome” is this insatiable appetite right now for true crime. I find it very difficult to consume violence for entertainment and I feel really uncomfortable with the way that a lot of true crime approaches families who have been impacted by the loss of a loved one.

How can true-crime reporting be done ethically, then?

Every true-crime story has an opportunity to be about a bigger issue, and should be about a bigger issue. I always think about the reporting that we do, and stories that we do, as being about real people. This is not our story or our entertainment. This is somebody’s real life. Anytime there is an unsolved case — whether that’s an unsolved disappearance or an unsolved murder — these families are left with not only the grief and trauma of losing a loved one, but feeling like you can never get past it because there’s still so many unanswered questions.

True crime is often reduced to the most simplistic ideas — who are the good guys and who are the bad guys, who are the heroes and who are the villains. We have to focus on the people at the center of it and their full, rich, complex experiences, while trying not to reduce them to fit into some other narrative. What we’re trying to do with the reporting that we do is to tell a bigger story. This is obviously centered around the unsolved disappearance of Jermain Charlo, and it’s about trying to help people get to know her and her family, to create space for them to have empathy for Jermain and her family in a way that we aren’t often given space to tell Indigenous stories. A lack of understanding and empathy is really harmful when we see stereotypes being reinforced about Indigenous people. I want to try to do the opposite of that in our reporting.

Why do you think these stereotypes persist?

Many people feel like we exist in the past. Because we haven’t been given the space or the agency to tell our own stories accurately, what’s happened is people have come into our communities and then left and taken our stories with them. They’ve represented them in a way that hasn’t felt true or factual to us. That has been harmful to a lot of people. In a lot of ways, I feel like our podcast is a history podcast in some ways, helping people know the truth about our history. But also, I really rely on the investigative aspect of it, and trying to find answers and information for Jermain’s family, for Cleo Semaganis Nicotine’s family, for Alberta Williams’s family.

The first season of my podcast was about the unsolved murder of Alberta, who was killed in 1989 off the Highway of Tears in Northern British Columbia. The Highway of Tears is a stretch of highway in a really remote part of the province where a lot of women and girls, many Indigenous, have gone missing or been found murdered. Alberta was one of them. It was over 30 years ago, and it didn’t get any media attention. There was not a single article written about her back then. There was some police investigation, but we were able to talk to people 27 years later who had never spoken to the police about what they had seen that weekend or what they believed had happened. That’s the reality. Many families never get any attention, even when they are just as deserving of time and resources. I remember being interviewed about the podcast and a journalist asking me, “Oh my gosh, why did the family open up to you?” I think the journalist was trying to get at the question that because I’m Indigenous, they must have been more comfortable talking with me.

My response was, “I think I was one of the first who ever asked them.”

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Wearing red, Indigenous families honor missing relatives

Native Americans whose relatives have gone missing or been killed wore red on Friday, a color synonymous with raising awareness about the disproportionate number of Indigenous people who have been victims of violence.

Missing and Murdered Indigenous Peoples Awareness Day is held on May 5 — the birthday of Hanna Harris, who was only 21 when she was slain on the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation in Montana.

Countless more Indigenous people have gone missing since her body was found nearly a decade ago. Advocates describe it as a silent crisis, rooted in colonization, forced removal and government policies that led to the stamping out of culture and identity as entire communities were marginalized.

This weekend’s marches, symposiums, prayer gatherings, art installations and ceremonies are meant to pressure policy makers in the U.S. and Canada to ensure equity when investigating such cases. The red dresses, they say, are used to call home the spirits of missing and slain Indigenous victims.

“We have to call this national state of emergency what it is -- a genocide,” Carol McBride, president of the Native Women’s Association of Canada, said in an email. She urged people to channel their grief into activism. “Wearing red is powerful.”

Canada’s House of Commons unanimously approved a motion this week calling on the government to declare a national state of emergency. Such a declaration would make more tools available, said Mel Critch, who works with the Native Women’s Association of Canada and is co-chair of the group Manitoba Moon Voices.

The burden of tackling the problem has fallen largely to Indigenous women, relatives and other community members, Critch said.

“As this moves through the Senate, our communities will be watching and listening carefully, praying for its adoption and a day when this will end, when our children and families will be safe,” Critch said.

Lawmakers in the U.S. introduced their own resolutions this week supporting the May 5 effort.

High rates of violence, s*xual assault, homicides and disappearances of Indigenous people, particularly women, have festered for generations amid inadequate public safety resources in Indian Country, where tiny police forces are responsible for vast territories and a tangled web of local and federal jurisdictions often complicates efforts to track and communicate about cases as they happen.

About 4,200 missing and murdered cases have gone unsolved, according to U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs estimates. Federal health statistics document murder rates for Native American and Alaska Native women at 10 times the national rate.

Still, the number of missing and slain Indigenous women remains unknown. A 2021 review by the nonpartisan Government Accountability Office pointed to reporting problems, distrust of law enforcement and jurisdictional conflicts.

Recently adopted U.S. laws aim to improve data collection and law enforcement responses. A national commission began holding public meetings in April to craft more recommendations. Gary Restaino, the U.S. attorney for Arizona, will be listening to tribal leaders and families at next week’s commission meeting in Flagstaff.

He said the Justice Department now prioritizes cases in Indian Country, bringing the Marshals Service, Drug Enforcement Administration and Bureau of Alcohol, To***co, Fi****ms and Explosives to support the FBI when local or tribal police call for help.

“That, I think, is a real expansion from the way we have traditionally done these cases and should be an opportunity to get more resources into underserved areas in Indian Country,” he said.

Many states have created their own task forces and commissions, aiming to keep cases from falling through the cracks. Prosecutors in New Mexico’s largest judicial district have a special unit to help with missing person investigations involving Native Americans.

In California, lawmakers approved the creation of an alert system to help find Indigenous people missing under suspicious circumstances. The legislation came last year after the Yurok Tribe issued an emergency declaration after five Indigenous women were reported as missing or were killed within a span of 18 months.

Every time someone goes missing in this state, that is tomorrow’s historical trauma,” said Abby Abinanti, the Yurok Tribe’s chief judge.

The tribe plans to use drones to bolster its search and rescue program.

The Round Valley Indian Tribes in Northern California also declared an emergency, and imposed a curfew for minors following the recent killings of two tribal citizens.

Washington is creating a cold case investigations unit, and Oklahoma’s governor signed legislation Monday ordering state public safety officials to work with tribes on an alert system named for Cherokee Nation citizen Kasey Russell, who went missing in 2016.

While there has been progress, state and federal lawmakers agree that more needs to be done.

California Assemblymember James Ramos told a hearing Tuesday that trends in his state don’t show improvement. He wants qualified tribal law enforcement officers to be able to access a statewide telecommunications system as they investigate missing persons cases.

In New Mexico, advocates want the governor to issue a new executive order to chart the next phase of implementing recommendations made in an extensive task force report in 2020.

For Melody Delmar, who leads MMIP projects for New Mexico’s Indian Affairs Department, the crisis is personal. As a social worker, she’s often among the first people families call when they need help.

Her dream? A state office dedicated to Indian Country cases where families could be assigned a social worker.

“There’s just so many levels of this and it can be complicated,” she said. “But we also can look at this and know there are solutions out there too.”

Nearly two years passed before federal authorities made an arrest in the case of Ella Mae Begay, a master Navajo weaver who went missing in 2021.

Her niece, Seraphine Warren, walked from the Navajo Nation to Washington D.C. to raise awareness. She has not given up finding her aunt — she’s gathering volunteers for another search of the desert in the coming weeks.

Waiting for information to trickle down from authorities to grieving family members is like torture, Warren said.

“All that families want is for somebody to check on them, to see if their cases are still being investigated,” said Warren, who will be marching in Seattle this weekend.

U.S. Interior Secretary Deb Haaland received a briefing Friday in Albuquerque from her agency’s Missing and Murdered Unit, created in 2021. To date, the unit has investigated 728 cases; solved or closed 263 missing persons cases; and solved eight murder cases.

Advocates are watching closely as Congress hashes out budget requests for federal agencies, including the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Cuts could result in fewer law enforcement officers in areas that are already understaffed.

U.S. Rep. Raúl Grijalva, an Arizona Democrat, said Congress has a responsibility to honor trust and treaty obligations with Indian Country.

“And it’s important to affirm that this is a priority,” he said.

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Associated Press contributors include Sophie Austin in Sacramento, Calif.; Claire Rush in Portland, Ore., Sean Murphy in Oklahoma City, Okla. and Terry Tang in Phoenix, Ariz.