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- [00:02]
Tenderfoot TV
You're listening to a Tenderfoot TV podcast.
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Unknown Advertiser
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Celisia Stanton
Hi friends. I'm so excited to share this new Season two episode of Truer Crime with you. If you want an ad free listening experience, subscribe to Tenderfoot Plus@tenderfootplus.com or on Apple Podcast Hi friends. Before diving into today's story, I wanted to share something special with you. I recently received this review from a listener named Marissa that made my day. Celicia how have I gone all 30 years of my life uninformed about the true story of the assassination of mlk? Thank you for talking about the important things many of these cases I've heard about, but your retellings allow us to visit them through a whole new lens. Can't wait to continue listening and learning. Reviews like that remind me of exactly why I'm doing this show. Honestly, I really do love bringing you stories you already know, like our episode on mlk, like last week's two parter on the Manson murders. But you know, it's actually equally important to me to explore cases you've probably never heard of before. Stories like the one that you'll hear on today's episode. And that's actually where you come in. If you have case ideas you'd like me to cover, you can submit them through our website@TrueOrKrimePodcast.com by hitting the Recommend an Episode tab. Or you can just email us@helloruehocrimepodcast.com I'm so serious. Your suggestions really do help shape the show. And we read every message. And speaking of shaping the show, we are still working on hitting that goal of 2,000 reviews. We're making progress. We are, we are. But we've got a few hundred more to go. So it's if you're enjoying True Crime leaving a review, please, please. It helps. It makes a difference. I love the community that we've built here. I hope you love the community we've built here. And your review just helps other people find us. Whether you share something specific you learned or just how a story made you feel. Sharing really does make a difference. It means everything. So, without further ado, let's get into today's story. Please be aware that today's episode contained references to sexual assault. Please take care while listening In April of 2012, I used my ipod touch to tap out my very first tweet. I might actually go to bed at a decent hour, I'd written. An hour and a half later came a second message. When the wifi goes down and you can't play, draw something shouldn't. Bethiss the next day, I fired off a slew of new posts. So far today, I've almost destroyed a netbook, spilled on myself, and flipped a lunch tray on the table. Suchaclutz. Then later, perhaps the most telling of them all when you tweet in class and three seconds later, people from the same class talk to you about what you posted. Because they're on Twitter too. Smiley face. Listen. I was 16 and earnest. It was 2012, and if that last tweet is any indication, social media was booming. But please don't let my mundane hourly updates fool you. By 2012, Twitter had earned its reputation as the platform where social movements ignited. Alongside other social media, Twitter had been an essential tool for protesters, spreading information and sometimes even organizing action during the Arab Spring in Tunisia, Egypt, and other countries, the Green Movement in Iran and Occupy Wall street in the United States. But gaining traction on Twitter meant standing out among the chaos of tweets and trends, no small feat for any cause. And so when Canadian journalist Sheila north began tweeting, she wasn't exactly expecting an immediate groundswell of attention. Sheila, who is Indigenous, a member of the Cree Nation, had covered countless tragic stories about women from her community, women who had disappeared, women who'd been murdered. It would be hard, I think, for anyone not to feel consumed by these cases, stories that so often ended in heartbreak and frustration. Indigenous women, despite making up only 4% of Canada's population, are alarmingly overrepresented among its missing and murder victims. Yet their cases receive little attention. It's a reality that's mirrored across the Americas. For Sheila, it felt like society had deemed her community invisible. And then one day, logging into her Twitter account, she started adding the same recurring tag to her tweets, MMIWMissing and Murdered Indigenous women. Suddenly, the hashtag began to spread, at first a ripple and then a wave, as tweets poured in from across Canada, then the US Then worldwide. Each tweet a testament, a piece of a larger narrative. It surprised me at how fast the hashtag picked up and how far it went, sheila later recounted to the New Yorker offline. The momentum built as well. Families of the missing and murdered held protests and vigils, sometimes just three people in the freezing cold and other times thousands under a scorching sun. The movement, which is still ongoing, has heightened public awareness of the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous folks and led to a plethora of public policy initiatives across North America. But despite these strides, a grim reality persists. The association of American Indian affairs reports that more than four in five Native women have faced violence in their lifetime, and that homicide is the third leading cause of death for Native women aged 10 to 24, the fifth for those aged 25 to 34. Yet mainstream media continues to shine its spotlight predominantly on white victims, leaving Indigenous stories in the shadows. But behind every statistic, there are so many stories, lives, voices. So who are the faces behind this movement, the stories behind the numbers? Today, we'll be exploring one, because this is the story of Sonia Ivanov. I'm Cesia Stanton, and you're listening to truer crime. In the early morning hours of August 11, 2003, Timarie Tiwarek had a plan. Leave her friend's place where she just spent the night, swing by her house, get herself ready for the day, and then head over to the Aurora Inn to clock in for her shift, working the front desk. Nothing novel, just another day. But when she entered her house that morning, she was surprised to find the place empty. No signs of her roommate and best friend, Sonia Ivanov. The two had been together just the evening prior. They'd gone to a friend's house to play some board games. Pretty much the opposite of a crazy night out. Around 1am though, Timoree and Sonja had gone their separate ways. Timry, who worked in the morning, figured it was best that she crash at a friend's house, call it a night. But Sonja decided to stay out a bit longer. She had the next day off, so why not? It was raining when the two parted. Peace out, pal, they called to one another. It was their catchphrase, timrie told dateline. She watched as Sonya jumped in the rain, headed off in the general direction of their house. The two women were young, just 19, and they'd moved to Nome, Alaska, in 2002, soon after graduating high school. Nome, which sits just south of the Arctic Circle, is a small town with just under 4,000 residents. But for Timoree and Sonya, Nome felt like home. The girls who are both Alaska Native, had come from the tiny village of Unicleet 747. To them, Noh might as well have been the big city. In high school, Sonja had been an honor roll kid whose five'eleven stature made her a natural on the basketball court. The fourth of six kids, she'd grown up with her parents and siblings in a small three bedroom house. Life may have felt a bit cramped, but it was also brimming with culture. As her sister told NBC, Sonja was deeply proud of her indigenous and Alaska Native heritage. She loved all of it. The food, the dancing, the gatherings. But as much as she enjoyed it, moving away represented a chance to branch out on her own, an opportunity to build her future. And as Timmery told dateline, she was sick of the cold Alaskan winters and dreamed of going to college. So when Sonya got a job working at the admitting desk at a hospital in Nome, she started scheming. She'd save up, and then, when the time was right, she'd head to Hawaii for college. It wasn't long before Timry joined her best friend in Nome and the two got a place together. Close as ever, they shared everything. Makeup, clothes. They were two young women with everything ahead of them, basking in the opportunity to chart their own paths in a new yet familiar feeling city. And so when Timri found their home empty that day in August, it didn't spark too much worry. This was 2002, years before the age of smartphones and unlimited text messages, so Timery didn't think too much of it. Maybe Sonya had just crashed at a friend's place. She headed to work, assuming she'd hear from Sonya soon. But when she returned home from her shift to a still empty house, she decided to phone Sonia's sister and a few of their mutual friends. But each call ended the same way. No one had seen or heard from Sonja. Then Timree noticed something unsettling. Sonja's makeup bag was sitting in the same place it had been the night prior, completely undisturbed. The anxiety in her chest ratcheted up a notch. She knew it was unlike Sonya to leave the house without getting ready and putting on makeup. The next morning, unsure where else to check, Tim recalled the Nome Police Department. Maybe something had gone awry after they'd split up that night. She wondered if Sonya had somehow ended up arrested. But the call was just another dead end. Officers informed her that no, no one with that name was being held that evening. Feeling desperate and out of options, Timri walked to the police station. It had now been 41 hours since since she'd last seen her best friend. I think I was hysterically crying just because I was so scared. Timur recalled to oxygen. But police did little to assuage her fears, as she quickly realized they weren't taking her story very seriously. Are you sure she's just not out partying? They asked her. But when Sonia's boss called, the tone began to shift. Sonya, they shared, had failed to report to work that day. Before long, a search was underway and Sonia Ivanov was officially a missing person.
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Celisia Stanton
Exclusion supply I'm ready for my life to change. ABC Sunday American Idol returns.
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Ryan Seacrest
Give it your all. Good luck. Come out with a golden ticket. Let's hear it.
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Celisia Stanton
This is immense word.
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Ryan Seacrest
I've never seen anything like it.
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Celisia Stanton
And a new chapter begins.
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Celisia Stanton
Carrie Underwood joins Lionel Richie, Luke Bryant and Ryan Seacrest on American idol. Season premieres Sunday, 8, 7 Central on ABC and stream on Hulu. Volunteers scoured the surrounding area in hopes of finding Sonya, but their search was short lived. After only a few hours, a volunteer made a quick, grisly discovery just off Drudge Road 5, a little used path a few minutes outside of town. Sonja's lifeless body lay partially concealed by bushes. The scene was haunting. She was bruised and naked, save for one sock. And her cause of death was immediately clear. A bullet to the back of the head. The details were grim. Sonja was missing nearly everything she'd had with her the night she disappeared. She was last seen wearing Timoree Skecher's shoes and a pair of jeans. Her identification, rec center ID and apartment keys, which she usually carried, were all gone. For Sonya's family and friends, the shock was indescribable. It was hard to fathom how something so horrific could happen to someone so loved and full of life. Timry told NBC the same thing she told police. Sonia just didn't have enemies. She was goofy, always laughing, kind to everyone she met. And Nome had seemed like such a safe place for Sonya. A close knit community where everyone knew each other, just like the one where she'd grown up. But as her family and friends would soon understand, Sonia's death wasn't just some tragic, isolated incident. Instead, it was part of a broader, much more troubling pattern. Alaska, with its vast, rugged landscape and sparse population, has long been a perilous place for its residents and particularly for native folks. People disappear over there, one tribal leader told Anchorage Daily News. And he's right. According to the DOJ's National Missing and Unidentified Persons Database, NamUs Alaska has the highest rate of missing persons in the country, with three times as many missing persons per hundred thousand than Arizona, the state with the second highest rate. It's a chilling reality that casts a long shadow over Sonia's case, placing her murder within the tragic and alarming context of the many missing and murdered indigenous folks in the region. For me, it only raised new why. But to answer that, Nome police knew they needed help. According to Oxygen, officers immediately called in state investigators. However, the logistical challenges of Alaska's remote terrain made getting that aid especially difficult. You see, Nome isn't connected to the rest of the state by roads. There's not even a ferry system. The only way in or out is by plane. And if you're an avid true crime listener, I'm sure you already know that the first hours of an investigation are extremely critical. But as one state trooper explained to Oxygen, in Alaska, the first 24 or 48 hours might just be getting to the scene. When the investigation team finally reached the site, a few things immediately stood out. Near the pool of blood where Sonja's body had been found, tire tracks cut through the earth. One of the treads, though, was unique, suggesting that maybe the vehicle had mismatched tires. They also found a smear of light blue paint on nearby branches. Whatever car had driven through there had likely left it behind. It all led authorities to an early suspect, Daniel Ongesuk. Known to many as Kunik. From the outside, Kunik was an unlikely suspect. He and Sonja were great friends, and as her family told dateline, there'd even been some whispers that the two might date. But nothing had ever come of it. To everyone's knowledge, their relationship had stayed strictly platonic. Still, as officers began to piece together clues, suspicions grew. It wasn't long before investigators discovered that that Kunik's truck had mismatched tires. And yep, you guessed it, it was also blue, just like the paint smear found at the crime scene. Digging deeper, the evidence against Kunik only mounted Inside his truck, police uncovered three rifles stashed behind the driver's seat, one with blood on its butt. And this blood, it was everywhere. Droplets on the floorboard, smeared on the tires, dried to a tarp in the back. They even found a pair of bloody tennis shoes. But when investigators questioned Kunik about their findings, he insisted that he had nothing to do with Sonya's murder, that it had been several weeks since he'd seen her last, and that on the night she disappeared, he was 70 miles away, out hunting with friends. He attributed the blood in his truck to running over a rabbit and shooting a porcupine while hunting. And when investigators noticed a suspiciously fresh scratch on his back, Kunik claimed it was from a recent altercation with an ex. Needless to say, none of Kunik's explanations were particularly convincing. As evidence piled up, it seemed the case against Kunik was was tightening. The tire tracks, the blood, the paint smear, the scratch. They all pointed in his direction. Police knew they were closing in on Sonja's killer. But just as things appeared to be wrapping up, the results from the forensic tests came back. The blood in Kunik's truck wasn't from a human. It was all animal blood, just like he'd claimed. An analysis of the tire treads delivered a final blow to investigators theory. The tracks at the scene weren't a match for Kunik's truck. In fact, officers would eventually discover that the tracks and paint had nothing to do with Sonya's murder. Instead, they'd have been left by an entirely unrelated couple who'd driven through the area completely unaware of the horrifying scene just feet away. For police, this was worse than square one, because now they had zero suspects and zero evidence out of Leeds. The investigation into Sonia's murder started to slow you. Most of the officers were pulled from the case, and for the two that remained, the lack of evidence was frustrating. The autopsy had yielded few new clues. There were no signs of sexual assault and no trace evidence was recovered. No skin scrapings under her fingernails, no foreign hair, no fingerprints, fibers or DNA. And since she was found naked, there were no clothes to examine either. Without many other options, one of the officers decided to start from the beginning. He was working the night shift and used this time to review Sonia's entire file, looking for anything that might have been missed. Eventually, he found something. A lead that had never been followed up on someone who claimed to have seen Sonja the night she disappeared. The witness's name was Florence Habros. She'd told investigators that she was Smoking on her porch with her sister. When she saw Sonja walking down the street, she called out to her and the two exchanged a wave. She watched as Sonya headed further down the street, noticed when a police car pulled up alongside her. Sonya leaned into the car, chatting with its driver for a few moments before hopping in and driving away. According to Anchorage Daily News, when Florence learned that Sonya was missing, she felt conflicted. She wondered if maybe what she'd seen was important. But she was also nervous, scared to call in. But when Sonya's body was discovered, she knew it was time to speak up. The police chief interviewed her, writing down her name and phone number. But when weeks passed with no word, Florence grew worried. Eventually, her husband encouraged her to make a video describing what she'd seen. Then at least she could send something to police. Officers would later say that Florence's statement had slipped through the cracks, that they recorded her name incorrectly and couldn't follow up. But regardless of what exactly had delayed them, once they finally did revisit Florence's story, it was a huge revelation for investigators and meant one of their own might know more about what happened to Sonja. Lucky for detectives, Nome police had just three squad cars, which officers only used during their shift hours. And finding the driver of that patrol car would be simple because the night Sonja disappeared, only two officers were on patrol in Nome, Matt Owens and Stan Piscoia. Before long, both men were scheduled to fly to Anchorage for questioning. But the day before their trip, the department faced a new mystery when One of Nome's three police cruisers suddenly went missing. Patrol Car 321A sergeant had noticed its absence a little before 1am and soon after, a search for the stolen vehicle was underway. After a few hours, an on duty officer radioed in. He found the missing cruiser and was going to get a closer to investigate. Two minutes later he radioed in again, but this time he's frantic. Shots fired. He shouted. Backup raced to the scene, relieved to discover that the on duty officer was now safe. The commotion died down. He he explained what happened, that he'd found the missing patrol car and started walking towards it when suddenly the driver jumped out of the car and opened fire on him. Before fleeing. Examining the car, officers found clues that appeared to connect the missing police cruiser to Sonia's murder. Not only had it been abandoned at a gravel pit just across the road from where Sonia's body had been found, but on the driver side seat there was an envelope. Inside was Sonya's missing id, and alongside it an ominous note that read pigs. I hate cops. I hate every one of you. Sonia was just a person in the wrong place at the wrong time. I do not know her. As you can see, it was easy for me to take your pig car keys right there. It was not her fault. She thought I was a pig and shit just happened. She. She was just a person and I just wanted to see if I could that night. Every one of you should be more careful. I watch every move you make. You leave me alone and I will leave you alone. I will also shoot you in the head if you get close. But oddly, just like the crime scene, the note envelope and even the police cruiser contained no identifiable DNA, fingerprints or any other trace evidence. It was all such a weird set of events. This officer discovering the car, getting into a shootout with a mystery assailant, the fact that the cruiser had even been stolen in the first place. As former Alaska State Trooper Eric Burrows told Dateline, the known police SUVs were often parked in front of the department, sometimes left unlocked or even with the keys still in the ignition. So yeah, the cruiser wouldn't have been hard to take. But still, Burroughs was skeptical because outside of a broken window and the envelope left on the car seat, there wasn't much evidence to back up the officer's shootout story. Still, there was something else fueling investigators suspicions because that on duty officer, the one who'd found patrol car 321, it was officer Matt Owens, one of only two officers on duty the night Sonya disappeared.
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- [26:56]
Celisia Stanton
Of $45 for 3 month plan equivalent to $15 per month required intro rate first 3 months only, then full price plan options available. Taxes and fees extra. See full terms@mintmobile.com the day after Patrol Car 321 went missing, Matt Owens was scheduled for police questioning in son. But according to dateline, Owens claimed he was still really shaken up from being shot at and asked to see a therapist instead of flying out for his interview. In the meantime, state troopers started looking into Owens background. It didn't take long for them to discover a slew of allegations pointing to a history of inappropriate sexual relationships. As state Trooper Eric Burroughs told dateline, Owens, who preferred to work the night shift, had a habit of picking up women for unauthorized ride alongs, allegedly even having sex with them while on duty. Some of the women even described something very similar to what Florence had seen, claiming that Owens would follow them in his car while they were walking before pulling ahead, cutting them off and asking them to get in. Eventually, Owens was brought in for questioning, but he denied having anything to do with Sonya's murder or the theft of patrol car 321. But he relented. He and Sonia's paths had crossed on occasion. She worked nights at the hospital and the two had occasionally interacted when Owens brought in folks needing medical attention during his shifts. Aware of the ride along allegations, investigators asked Owens if he'd ever picked up women during his shifts.
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Ryan Seacrest
Would it be unusual for you on a patrol at night to pick up women or meet women or, you know, give people a ride? No, that's, that's definitely. It's not unusual. I do have people that ride along with me, both male and female.
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Celisia Stanton
But when asked if he ever picked up women to have sex with them, Owens pushed back.
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Ryan Seacrest
I'm not going around picking up women. I don't do what you're off to. I mean, even when I. Not even once? Not that I know of. No sir. I don't remember not one single time. That's not me to do that.
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Celisia Stanton
After the initial interview, investigators gave Owens a polygraph test. Soon they had the results.
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Ryan Seacrest
To my mate, you didn't pass those polygraphs.
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Celisia Stanton
Owens replied to this news with one Shit. Now I Want to note here that polygraph tests are often very unreliable. They're not even admissible in court. But soon, mounting evidence would make Owens denial much harder to believe. In fact, on a tip, investigators learned Owens had been spotted at a place called Coffee Creek Hunting Camp, burning things in a fire pit just shortly after Sonja was murdered. When police searched the area, they discovered several remnants of burned clothing. Eyelets from Skecher sneakers, and buttons that matched the brand of jeans Sonja was last seen wearing. They also found a key similar to the one Sonja had for her apartment. Police felt confident they knew they had their killer. Soon, Officer Matt Owens was arrested and indicted on charges of first degree murder and tampering with physical evidence. When the news made headlines, several women finally felt safe enough to come forward about their own experiences with the former cop. According to Dateline, six women told stories of his abuse, alleging everything from stalking to rape. In one case, a woman alleged that after Owens assaulted her, he told her, no one will believe a drunk Alaska native over a police officer. One of the women said she filed a complaint, and another said she'd mentioned the assault to someone else in the department. But neither had resulted in any follow up, let alone any punishment or accountability. Former Alaska State trooper Eric Burrows told Dateline that he believed Owens had wanted to pursue Sonya for a while and took the opportunity when he saw her walking alone that night. That maybe Sonia refused Owens advances. Perhaps she'd even threatened to report him. Things escalated, and he killed her. Owens ex wife would also come forward with information pointing to Owens guilt. At the time, the two were navigating a divorce and sharing custody of their child. On the day Sonia was reported missing, Owens called his ex wife. He was watching their son and asked if she could take him early, saying he had to work on a missing girl case. And that quote, it didn't look good. The only problem? Owens wife claimed the call happened about 45 minutes before Timmery even reported Sonja as missing. At trial, the prosecution called nearly 70 witnesses, building a case through a plethora of circumstantial evidence. They claimed Owens had not only murdered Sonja, but he'd also staged the theft of patrol car 321 and planted the note and Sonia's ID in an attempt to lead police astray. In fact, analysis of the note's paper and printing style showed that the letter could have come from a printer Owens had direct access to to prove Owens had killed Sonya. Though they highlighted Florence's last sighting, the five hours Owens was unaccounted for that night, the call he had with his ex wife and the clothing remnants found in the burn pit. When pieced together, it didn't look good. Even the absence of DNA and fingerprints became evidence as a trooper testified that removing Sonya's clothing and the lack of trace evidence showed her killer had evidence awareness similar to that of a police officer. After closing arguments, the jury deliberated for 40 hours without coming to a consensus with a hung jury. The judge declared a mistrial because it was believed that the trial location could have influenced the outcome. Owens second trial was held in a different part of Alaska, a plane ride away from Nome. The prosecution would run the same case, but this time the outcome was different. Owens was found guilty of both charges and sentenced to 101 years in prison. Today, Matt Owens is still in prison, resolute in his claims of innocence. But the shadow of his crime lingered over Nome in the state of Alaska, prompting reform. In 2007, Governor Sarah Palin signed the Sonia Ivanov Act, a legislative move that mandates a minimum 99 year sentence for any police officer convicted of first degree murder while on duty. And while I'm sure this was an attempt at justice for me it highlighted a harsh reality. If we need laws to guarantee police officers, sworn protectors of the public face strict penalties for murder, our system's moral compass might be irreparably skewed. Which to be frank, is just a nicer way of saying that we should probably lift that bar on out of hell. And ultimately, Matt Owens conviction couldn't erase the seeds of mistrust that had taken root in the community. And who could blame them? Noem's police chief Ralph Taylor summed up the sentiment after Owen's arrest, saying we take an oath to protect and serve. When one of us is accused of doing something like this, it's like part of us has been killed. He acknowledged the long road ahead to rebuild trust, a journey fraught with anger and skepticism. The department would suffer not just from Owen's actions, but from a legacy of broken promises and shattered faith. Years later, this atmosphere of distrust persisted. According to CBC, throughout 2018, Nome residents packed city council meetings voicing their frustration over the department's consistent failures. The allegations were a stark reminder that Owens crime was not an isolated incident, but a symptom of a deeper systemic failure. According to a 2020 Anchorage Daily News article, 43 people were killed by Alaska law enforcement for a five and a half year period. And while these cases differed from Sonya's in that they reportedly occurred in line of duty. Many in the community feel that mental health resources were sorely needed and may have changed the outcomes. But the fact is, while the threat of police violence is significant, it's just one aspect of the many broader risks faced by the Alaska Native. Before he murdered Sonya, Matt Owens got away with sexually assaulting multiple women. It's a fact that unfortunately tracks. Rainn reports that driven by generational trauma, lack of resources and a deep seated trust of law enforcement, rape and domestic violence are severely underreported in Indigenous communities. But it's not just Matt Owens. In the years following Sonia's murder, many harrowing details have emerged regarding Alaska's egregious mishandling of sexual assault cases. According to CBC, in 2016, former Alaska governor Bill Walker uncovered thousands of untested sexual assault kits, a backlog that underscored the state's negligence. The steps had been taken to address this, including new resources and a 90 day processing guideline for the state crime lab. The damage was already done. And then in 2019, a review of 460 sexual assault cases in Nome revealed a chilling pattern of inaction. Officers repeatedly failed to investigate, question suspects, or even respond to calls from victims. Nearly all the cases involved Alaska Native women. It's all a reminder that Sonia Ivanov's story transcends the details of a single tragic murder. Because her story embodies the fear and vulnerability felt by so many Native people, the statistics are grim. Indigenous folks face disproportionately high rates of violence and are often left to navigate a justice system that seems indifferent at best and hostile at worst. And behind all that communal pain are individual stories. Sonia's loved ones remember her not just for the tragedy of her death, but for the light she brought into their lives. Her niece told NBC that she still speaks to Sonia out loud, feeling her presence in moments of clarity. Her mother keeps her memory close through stories, ensuring her daughter remains a vital part of their lives. And Timuri named her daughter after Sonya, a beautiful reminder that honors her best friend's legacy. In the end, it all circles back to one painful truth. Sonia Ivanov should have been protected. She should have been able to live her life free from fear, safe in the knowledge that those sworn to protect her would do just that. Her story is a somber reminder of the work that remains, a call to action for a system that has too often failed its most vulnerable. For today's first action item, I wanted to point you towards the Alaska Native Women's Resource Center. Their work is dedicated to strengthening local tribal government's responses through community organizing efforts advocating for the safety of women and children in their communities and homes, especially against domestic and sexual abuse and violence. They do so much great stuff including forwarding policy initiatives and providing culturally specific, trauma informed and victim centered technical assistance, training and research resources to support tribes, tribal organizations and others serving Alaska Native and American Indian victims and survivors. Please make sure you check out the resources on their website where they've provided an MMIW action plan and toolkit for Alaska Native communities. You can learn more about them and support through donation@aknwrc.org and since Sonya was working in Nome with the hope of saving for college, I also wanted to highlight the American Indian College Fund. This organization was founded in 1989 and it's actually the nation's largest organization supporting Native student access to higher education. Not only do they provide scholarships and programming for American Indian and Alaska Native students to access higher education, but they also provide ongoing support and tools to ensure that students succeed once they're there, which is so important. You can learn more about them and support via donation@collegefund.org if you want to further engage with MMIW stories, I highly recommend you check out another show I host called the Vanishing Point. In the first season I take you to Hoopa, California, home of the Hoopa Valley Tribe. Located in the Pacific Northwest, this area is known for its breathtaking landscapes, but there's more to it than that. It holds a haunting history of numerous unsolved missing persons cases. In this six part series, we explored the many factors that make this tribal land a Vanishing Point. As always, you can keep up with True Crime on Instagram and xreocrimepod and you can find me on Instagram and TikTok, Alicia Stanton and through my weekly newsletter sincerelycelesia@sincerelycelesia.substack.com a full list of sources and action items related to today's episode is available on our website@truercrimepodcast.com Truer Crime is created, hosted and written by me, Celisia Stanton and is a production of Tenderfoot TV in association with Odyssey. Additional writing and research by Olivia Heusingfeld. Executive Producers are myself, Donald Albright and Payne Lindsay. Additional production by Olivia Hussingfeld and Jamie Albright. Editing by Liam Luxon with additional editing support by Sydney Evans and Jaja Muhammad. Our Supervising producer is Tracy kaplan. Artwork by Station 16 Original music by Jay Ragsdale Mix by Dayton Cole. Thank you to Oren Rosenbaum and the team at uta Back Media and Marketing and the Nord Group. For more podcasts like Truer Crime, search Tenderfoot TV on your favorite podcast app or visit us at Tenderfoot tv. Thanks for listening thanks for listening to this Season two episode of Truer Crime. If you want an ad free version of this show and other great shows from Tenderfoot TV, you can subscribe to Tenderfoot plus at tenderfootplus.com or on Apple Podcasts.