Alaska Families Win Transparency Battle in MMIP
Alaska Families Win
Justice Delayed: Alaska Families Win Transparency Battle in Indigenous Cold Case Crisis
In a landmark victory for Indigenous families and advocacy groups, the Alaska Department of Public Safety has finally released the names and racial information of cold case homicide victims after years of legal battles and public pressure. The decision marks a significant step forward in addressing the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous peoples (MMIP) in a state where Native women are killed at ten times the rate of white women.
The breakthrough came after Data for Indigenous Justice, a nonprofit organization founded by Charlene Aqpik Apok, successfully appealed the department’s initial refusal to release basic information about homicide victims. The agency had previously claimed that compiling such data would require manually reviewing years of incident reports, arguing they “do not keep lists of victims of any type of crime, including homicide victims.”
For Michael Livingston, a retired Anchorage police officer and Aleut advocate, the victory is bittersweet. The release revealed that state officials had quietly removed 23 victims’ names from their cold case list, including several Indigenous individuals, deeming the cases too old and unlikely to be solved. This decision, made without family consultation, exemplifies what advocates describe as a pattern of institutional disregard for Indigenous victims and their families.
“It’s just so disrespectful,” Livingston said, standing at the Alaska Law Enforcement Officer’s Memorial in Anchorage. “You can’t just erase people, especially when you’re talking about families who really miss their loved ones,” added Apok, whose organization has been stewarding data on missing and murdered Indigenous peoples since 2018.
The transparency battle highlights broader systemic failures in Alaska’s approach to addressing violence against Indigenous peoples. Despite repeated promises from state and federal lawmakers, including Governor Mike Dunleavy’s 2024 signing of Senate Bill 151—which committed to investigating cold cases and created an MMIP review commission—families continue to face obstacles in obtaining basic information about their loved ones’ cases.
The data crisis extends beyond Alaska. The National Missing and Unidentified Persons System relies on voluntary law enforcement reporting, while the Urban Indian Health Institute found that nearly 60 percent of police departments surveyed either didn’t respond or provided incomplete data. The Murder Accountability Project discovered that police departments failed to report nearly 3,000 homicides to the Department of Justice in 2018 alone.
Experts warn that cold cases represent a crisis situation. Tom McAndrew, a Pennsylvania State Trooper and expert on the Department of Justice Cold Case Investigation Working Group, notes that “history and research show that a violent offender will likely repeat.” With only about 58 percent of murder cases solved nationwide in 2023, the growing backlog of cold cases represents not just statistical failure, but ongoing danger to communities.
The Alaska victory demonstrates the power of persistent advocacy. Data for Indigenous Justice’s success stems from years of FOIA requests, public pressure, and families sharing their stories. The organization’s work has revealed significant gaps in state data collection, prompting calls for greater accountability and transparency from law enforcement agencies.
“Police cannot solve cases, especially cold cases, on their own,” Livingston emphasizes. “They need the help of the citizens.” This collaborative approach, combined with institutional transparency, offers hope for families who have waited decades for answers.
As rain fell on the Anchorage memorial where Livingston spoke with ICT, his determination remained unshaken. “Did you get it; could you hear me? Could you see me?” he asked anxiously, ensuring that the voices of Indigenous victims and their families would not be silenced again.
The release of names represents more than bureaucratic compliance—it acknowledges the humanity of victims too often reduced to statistics and affirms that Indigenous lives matter. For families who have spent years fighting for basic recognition, it’s a crucial step toward justice, though the journey remains far from complete.