Missing and Murdered Indigenous People in California an ‘emergency.’ Families seek justice

Pit River Tribe elder Theodore Martinez knows more of death than anyone should.

“I want to acknowledge some of the people that have been murdered from my tribe,” Martinez said. “These are all my people.”

Martinez’s family, close friends and members of his tribe are among the more than 150 documented cases of Missing and Murdered Indigenous People crisis in California. The state has the fifth most unsolved cases involving Native people in the country, and tribal leaders have urged for the crisis to be declared a state emergency.

Earlier this year as he stood on the west Capitol steps, Martinez, with anguish in his eyes, recalled each person he’s lost in his lifetime.

There was Little George Montgomery, who was like a brother to Martinez. He was killed decades ago, with the tribe finding his body dismembered, Martinez said. All they had left to bury was his skull.

There was his own brother, Victor, who Martinez said was killed in 1992.

There was his cousin who lived on the Fort Bidwell Reservation in Modoc County. Martinez said she was found dead, face down in the water of the tribe’s hot springs.

There was Dewey McGarva. At 36, he went missing for more than a year. When his tribe found him, there wasn’t much left, Martinez said.

And then, there was Milton “Yogi” McGarva, who identified as Two-Spirit, a third gender identity for Indigenous people. McGarva was stabbed and fatally wounded in 2020.

“These are things that have gone on historically, throughout my territory,” Martinez said. “None of these things have been investigated. Nothing has been done.”

As Martinez looked upon a crowd of Native Californians, he knew he wasn’t the only one who had lost relatives.

The deaths and disappearances of his relatives have gone unsolved by law enforcement for decades, Martinez said. It’s a pain many families relate to: the feeling of being let down and left without closure.

“We as Native people, we need to help each other. We need to support this movement,” Martinez said. “Because without that support, it’s not going to go very far.”

After feeling neglected by law enforcement, these families have taken matters into their own hands. They offer monetary rewards for anyone with knowledge of their relatives’ whereabouts, carrying posters with their loved one’s faces and names.

They haven’t given up. They all want justice.

Families of Missing and Murdered Indigenous People seek justice

Toni Espinoza, a member of Wilton Rancheria, is the sister of Angel Baby Espinoza, who died on Nov. 18, 2001. Her family believes she was killed.

Toni Espinoza said her sister died following a hit and run on Norwood Avenue in North Sacramento. Her family believes Angel Baby was pushed in front of the car by an ex-partner.

“We want justice. I want to be able to tell her kids who did this to their mom,” Toni Espinoza said, her voice beginning to break. “We have a right to know, everybody has the right to justice.”

Toni Espinoza said she worked with a police detective and allegedly found an eye witness. But the case was deemed manslaughter after three years and not pursued as a murder investigation.

To this day, her family, including Angel Baby’s own five children,still mourn her death. They are left with no answers.

“This is why we do what we can,” Toni Espinoza said. “To spread the word, to say her name, to do marches and hold protests in front of the Capitol so somebody will care.”

Over in Mendocino County, 81-year-old Ronnie Hostler and his family have been searching for his beloved granddaughter, Khadijah Britton, 23, who has been missing for the past seven years. Britton belongs to the Wailaki Round Valley Indian tribes.

Britton was last seen in Covelo, California, according to the Federal Bureau of Investigations , with an ex-boyfriend forcing her into a car at gunpoint.

While the Mendocino County Sheriff’s Office was involved in the case, Hostler is unsatisfied. He said Britton’s disappearance wasn’t investigated until two weeks after her family reported her missing. Today, Britton has been deemed a cold case.

Britton’s family is still trying to find herbut at this point, they are looking for her body to bury in the family cemetery.

“We want to find her, wherever she may be, and we want to take care of her,” Hostler said. “That’s what we want right now, and we’re not getting it.”

Tribes face issues with law enforcement

The Sacramento Bee has spoken to, or heard from, 46 families, tribal leaders and experts in Indian Country affected by the Missing and Murdered Indigenous People crisis. They identified obstacles preventing cases from getting solved.

Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases reflect disproportionate rates of violence against Native communities nationwide. Native people are 2.5 times more likely to experience a violent crime, according to the Association on American Indian Affairs.

When cases are reported, there is sometimes no response, little follow through or poor coordination with criminal investigations, said Keely Linton, the operations director for the Strong Hearted Native Women’s Coalition, a nonprofit that supports families with Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases.

Local law enforcement can be slow to respond to calls of crime and are “less attentive to the interests of tribes,” according to the UCLA American Indian Studies Center. Tribal communities also struggle to trust law enforcement.

Erik Apperson, the former Del Norte County sheriff, saw this dynamic firsthand when working on Yurok and Tolowa Dee-ni’ tribal lands. Now retired, he recalled meeting a shocked and grieving mother whose young son was killed by another boy on tribal lands.

Despite the tragedy of a young boy dying that night, the need to bring an offender to justice did not outweigh the absence of ability and desire to pursue the case, Apperson said.

“I believe in my heart that it was a homicide, even if negligence played a part in it,” he said.

Why do Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases go cold?

Missing and Murdered Indigenous People crisis cases are seven times less likely to be solved than any other ethnic group statewide, according to Sovereign Bodies Institute. As a result, most cases go cold, said Linton, who is Íipay and Cupeno.

Families will often feel stigmatized by law enforcement and are often faced with skepticism due to racist stereotypes. They feel law enforcement is uncaring or that their loved one’s disappearance is minimized .

Racism against Native people can prevent cases from being pursued or taken seriously, said Linton. Officers are not always understanding or trauma-informed about the tribal communities they serve.

As a result, some harbor stereotypical beliefs and prejudices. It’s an issue Greg O’Rourke, the Yurok tribal police chief, faced when he handled a sexual abuse case with his non-Native partner in the his local sheriff’s department.

“I remember very specifically my partner saying ‘do the people on the reservation have kids just so they can molest them?’” said O’Rourke during a hearing on Public Law 280 in March. “This person was a good man, a good cop. But that was the response. How can you provide accurate and humane services when that is the first thing that comes to mind?”

Barriers are also deeply rooted in California’s colonial origins and laws today.

What is Public Law 280?

Enacted in 1953, Public Law 280 requires tribal law enforcement to share criminal jurisdiction with state police agencies, causing overlap and confusion. It’s a law that impeded on Britton’s case being pursued, Hostler said.

“The piece of colonization is still here, embedded with all these laws, all these laws that have moved forward in the state of California,” said Assemblyman James Ramos, D-San Bernardino. “It’s now, recently, that we’re layering back those laws and trying to insert the California Indian voice into it.”

Because of Public Law 280, tribal law enforcement are unable to prosecute non-Native people on tribal land. Tribal police can only arrest and detain non-Natives for “delivery to state and federal authorities,” according to the Department of Justice.

In regards to Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases, it’s often non-Native people perpetrating sexual violence against Native women. Between 86% to 96% of abuse against Native women comes from non-Native offenders, who are rarely punished, the Mailman School of Public Health at Columbia University found.

How California legislation could help

Tribal police know their communities best, yet they lack the authority of a state officer to investigate murders, said O’Rourke.

This is where Assembly Bill 2138 could provide a solution. This bill, authored by Ramos, would launch a pilot program to grant state peace officer status to tribal police in selected tribal communities from 2025 until 2028.

If passed, this program would go into effect under the Department of Justice. By no later than 2027, the DOJ would submit a report about case clearance rates, including those for Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases.

As another way to combat Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases, California passed the Feather Alert in 2022, an emergency notification system similar to the Amber Alert.

But the alert has run into obstacles.

In December, The Bee found that the California Highway Patrol only sent out one Feather Alert. CHP has a history of not issuing alerts tribes requested , either because it did not meet their criteria or for undisclosed reasons. Since then, about 60% of Feather Alert requests have been rejected, according to the Press Democrat.

New amendments have been implemented for the Feather Alert . Law enforcement agencies are now required to respond to requests within 48 hours. If an alert is denied, law enforcement must provide written notice to a government agency or tribe that explains why.

“We’re starting to address and make the alert system stronger,” said Ramos, who is Cahuilla and Serrano.

Tribal leaders have urged more funding toward investigations. In July, Gov. Gavin Newsom awarded almost $20 million in grants to 18 tribes to fund prevention efforts for Missing and Murdered Indigenous People cases.

Families, meanwhile, called for the convictions of the perpetrators who enact violence against their loved ones. Justice has not been swift for most families, but McGarva’s family did have their call answered. Jarrett Bleu Rucker, the man who killed McGarva, one of Martinez’s relatives, was sentenced to 26 years to life in prison earlier this year.

“The victory and justice for Yogi was not easily won,” said Morning Star Gali, the founder of Indigenous Justice, who assisted McGarva’s family in the criminal justice process. “It was a difficult four years in the making, with his family not knowing when they would be able to breathe a sigh of relief.”

The road to support starts with visibility, priority and mutual respect for California’s first people, Ramos said.

“It’s time that our voices be heard,” Ramos said. “It’s time that our voices and what’s affecting our people doesn’t go in silence.”

The Strong Hearts Native Helpline provides culturally-specific resources for Native Americans experiencing domestic and sexual violence through a helpline 1-844-7NATIVE (762-8483).