MMIP organization holds first annual gathering for victims’ families, advocates

Dorethy Yahtin, who’s of Warm Springs and Yakama heritage, shared the story of her son, Cecil Yahtin, who was murdered by a cousin in January 2024 in Portland’s Hazelwood area. She also talked of losing siblings under suspicious circumstances, including her little brother, Timothy Yahtin. He died in 2013 of injuries after falling off a deck in Lewiston, Idaho. She told the audience that it was no accident, that she believes a group of people shoved him to his death.

Destiny Elliott, of the Hopeland Band of Pomo Indians, spoke of losing her sister, Sascha, to a head-on collision with another driver in December 2022.

“I’d talked to her five minutes before,” she recalled, her voice shaky. “She was hit in the opposite lane. He was speeding to get wherever he needed to go and hit her head-on. She died instantly. Her car was totaled.”

Elliott said there wasn’t sufficient evidence, or enough jury members, to try the other driver on manslaughter charges. “He’s well known in the community, he hides behind them,” she said. “I don’t want him to spend his whole life in prison, I just want him to be accountable.”

Other Native people stood and shared stories of loved ones who vanished or were violently taken from them. All the while, large monitors behind the speakers displayed current and resolved MMIP cases from across the Pacific Northwest.

More faces. More loss.

It was the first event organized by MMIW Search and Hope Alliance, founded by Kimberly Lining in July 2024. Of Navajo and Hopi heritage, Lining told Buffalo’s Fire that she became involved with the MMIW issue while vacationing in the Flathead Lake area of Montana after her best friend was murdered by her boyfriend.

“When that happened, I thought: ‘What can I do to just get in this community and start to change things?’ And it turned into this,” explained Lining, who had also been troubled by stories of Native women disappearing from across the state.

In the months since, MMIW Search and Hope Alliance has coordinated searches across Oregon and done its best to recruit volunteers. The group has worked with local law enforcement, acknowledging that advocacy never quite ends.

“There are currently no special funding programs for MMIP efforts,” Lining told the audience. “There’s a glaring lack of media coverage when Indigenous individuals go missing or murdered. Justice for our people is often delayed or denied.”

Lining shared a common challenge for many MMIP/MMIW advocates and tribal communities: databases among different law enforcement agencies are often inconsistent, and many cases are either outdated or misidentify victims’ races, genders or tribal affiliations.”

Lining’s group says there are currently 28 open MMIP cases in Oregon, and 111 in neighboring Washington,“some unsolved for decades.”

Besides surviving relatives, people who help track cases also spoke.

Amy Walcott of the nonprofit group Oregon’s Vanished talked of the dangers of human trafficking in the region. “We focus a lot on the foster kids,” she began. “Too many times when one disappears, people say, ‘Oh they just ran away.’ No Amber alerts, no news coverage. The search just stops there.”

Walcott warned that people too often judge foster kids as being troublemakers, which makes them vulnerable to predators. “Traffickers know which kids won’t be missed, which kids won’t make headlines, which kids don’t have families that’ll look for them.”

According to the non-profit organization Oregon’s Vanished, 160 kids under the age of 19 have gone missing in Multnomah County alone. Altogether, there are 745 in Oregon.

“These aren’t just statistics,” Walcott said. “These are Oregon’s children. We have to find these kids.”

Other topics included domestic violence and sexual abuse. An FBI report that tracked data between 2021 and 2023 showed perpetrators in violent crimes against American Indian or Alaska Native women were largely intimate partners. These spouses, ex-spouses or romantic partners committed 61.6% of documented murder incidents, 69% of aggravated assault cases, 53.9% of intimidation and 40.6% of rape reports.

“If you’re the one being violent, get help,” said Lining. “Unfortunately there’s a desensitization in our nation, and what happens is people don’t know how to control these feelings. And for the people that are victims, you’re not alone. We hear you, we see you, and we’re here to provide help and safe haven.”

Along the edges of the gathering space were tables offering services and support. Sabrina Griffith, a member of the Confederated Tribes of Siletz Indians, helped staff a table for Lining’s organization. MMIP/MMIW shirts and red-and-black beaded earrings covered the table, on sale to help fund their search efforts.

“I just really want people to know that this is very important, and we need to bring our sisters home,” said Griffith. She pointed to Ampkwa Advocacy, an MMIP group launched by Native activist and photographer Amanda Freeman, based in the community of the Confederated Tribes of the Grand Ronde, as a local example of what she’s hoping to start with her own tribe. Besides offering culturally oriented support services, Ampkwa Advocacy also has its own board.

“We are trying to get out as much as they are,” she said. “I would like to do the same with Siletz, and get our tribe more involved. I’d like to have a committee.”

By lunch time, just over 100 people were gathered in the NARA NW space. They sat in rows of chairs adorned with red hand prints, which symbolize MMIP cases. Attendees brought in portraits of victims, and more than a few tears were shed.

In the far corner, a drum group played honor songs for the missing and murdered relatives. A small display on a nearby table featured red paper hands on which people could write names of those they wished to find or get closure on or perhaps say a prayer for.

“The encouragement is that you’re not alone,” said Lining. “If your family member were to go missing, I would help you look for them. We are here. We’re not going anywhere, and we’re providing hope for communities and marginalized people and the Native people. And we want to bridge gaps. It’s completely possible.”