I tell true stories about murder and mystery in Alaska. Some of the crimes I cover are so morally reprehensible that I find it challenging to write about them. I recently wrote about an Anchorage teenager who killed her best friend for the promise of money from a man she met online. I hated the story I told, but I couldn’t alter the facts.
However, I have latitude about how I tell a story and relay statistics and other information to help the reader understand the unique location where the crime occurred, the historical setting of the crime, and the social and cultural importance of a particular murder or disappearance.
I think of myself as a storyteller. I am not a journalist. I want to share a compelling story with my readers. When writing about an actual murder or mystery, I need enough information about the crime or the missing person to tell a story. If the police have not solved the case, they will likely release few details about it, even if the issue is decades old. Without information from the authorities, I often find it challenging to write a complete account of the matter.
I try to cover stories from different areas of Alaska. Crime is more prevalent in the cities, but the crime rate per capita is very high in some of the small villages in the state. Most of these villages do not have a police force or a 911 system. The Alaska State Troopers will come when called, but due to distances and weather conditions, it sometimes takes the troopers hours, if not days, to respond to a crime.
Since I began writing my true-crime stories six years ago, I’ve noticed trends in the cases I’ve covered. I’ve detected patterns of violence throughout the history of Alaska, and these patterns relate to economic boom periods and growth spurts in the state. From the gold rush in the early 1900s to the construction and early operation of the oil pipeline in the 1970s to the king crab fishing heyday in the 1980s. Whenever I cover stories from one of these periods, I try to relay the bigger picture about the history of the state.
Most importantly, though, a thread woven through violent crimes in Alaska relates to crimes against women, particularly violence against Native women, and this theme is something I care very much about. The 2003 murder of Sony Ivanoff, a young Inuit woman living in Nome, by a Nome policeman sent shockwaves through the state of Alaska. The murder finally forced officials to listen to the cries of Alaska Native women in Nome, who claimed the police repeatedly ignored their reports of sexual assault. A few months ago, I wrote another story about a suspected serial killer in Anchorage who has been preying on homeless Native women in the city. The only way to change these trends of violence against women is to talk about them. According to a 2015 University of Alaska Justice Center victimization survey, fifty out of every one-hundred women in Alaska have experienced intimate partner violence, sexual violence, or both. A 2016 report by the Violence Policy Center ranked Alaska first nationwide as the state with the highest homicide rate per capita of female victims killed by male offenders. I point out these startling statistics whenever they relate to one of my stories.
Sometimes I feel suffocated by researching and writing about murder, so I lighten up my storytelling and write about an incredible survival story or a heroic search and rescue effort. My readers enjoy lighter stories occasionally. You can sign up for my free monthly newsletter on murder and mystery in Alaska at https://mailchi.mp/e34d98f1a569/alaska_mystery_newsletter or listen to the stories on my podcast, Murder and Mystery in the Last Frontier, at https://murder-in-the-last-frontier.blubrry.net.
