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Film highlights story of missing Tulalip woman – and larger crisis

EVERETT — For years now, Mary Ellen Johnson-Davis' 16 nieces and nephews have missed their aunt.

All the unread books, all the unpicked blackberries, all the times she didn't brighten their day with an impression of Scrat from the movie “Ice Age.”

In November 2020, Johnson-Davis was walking along Fire Trail Road on the north end of the Tulalip Reservation when she texted a friend saying she was “almost to church.”

She has since disappeared.

Wednesday marks 1,288 days of not knowing what happened to him.

In October 2022, her sisters, Nona Blouin and Gerry Davis, authored a documentary about Johnson-Davis' disappearance, with the aim, Davis said, of “getting her story out there and keeping her alive.”

“Missing From Fire Trail Road” is set to premiere Saturday at the prestigious Tribeca Film Festival in New York.

More than two dozen members of the Lummi and Tulalip tribes will attend the premiere, said French-American director Sabrina Van Tassel.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know,” Davis said. “If the tribe is behind me and Nona, I feel like we have everything we need.”

The film aims to launch a national campaign. Van Tassel, working with activists, will screen the documentary on numerous tribal lands across the country, bringing “every tool we have” to prevent indigenous people from disappearing — and to rally resources when they do.

The sisters and Van Tassel want to go beyond simple consciousness.

They want to find Johnson-Davis.

The state lists 122 active cases of missing indigenous people, according to the Washington State Patrol.

On average, people on the list have been missing for more than two years.

Missing From Fire Trail Road – Documentary Trailer (FilmRise) from FilmRise on Vimeo.

“Someone has to find her.”

Deborah Parker, CEO of the National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition, remembers the day Johnson-Davis disappeared.

The news spread on social networks. Parker, a member of the Tulalip tribe and former vice chairman of the tribe, expected the public outcry. And I waited.

“When the silence remained and the silence remained, I asked myself, 'Why are we being so silent about something that is so important?'” said Parker, executive producer of the documentary.

She heard people talking about the difficulties of Johnson-Davis's life, in order to downplay her disappearance. Parker wanted them to focus on what's most important: finding Johnson-Davis.

“All of these factors may be, could be true. Maybe, maybe not,” she said. “But the reality is she’s missing and someone has to find her.”

Over time, she accepted that no spotlight should be placed on Johnson-Davis. Then Van Tassel called Parker. The director had the money to make a documentary about Johnson-Davis.

Van Tassel's work has already sparked change.

One of his previous documentaries, “The State of Texas vs. Melissa,” was about Melissa Lucio, a woman sentenced to death for the murder of her son. Van Tassel's documentary claimed it was a wrongful conviction.

This documentary also premiered at Tribeca and is now on Hulu. This galvanized a public campaign in favor of Lucio.

Lucio's death sentence was overturned in April, in part because the prosecutor withheld evidence from Lucio's defense.

“That of course tells me that anything is possible,” Van Tassel said. “There is magic in cinema, there is magic in documentaries.”

Gerry Davis poses for a photo at Hillcrest Park in Mount Vernon, Washington, Wednesday, May 29, 2024. (Annie Barker/The Herald)

“Oppressors and oppressed”

Making the documentary helped Van Tassel understand the role of intergenerational trauma due to colonization.

She said the root of the problem was and remains that Native lives don't matter as much to American society as a whole.

Van Tassel sees a common thread of this story in his own family.

In the 17th century, one of his Dutch ancestors married the daughter of the chief of a Montauk tribe.

As a child, Van Tassel imagined the story as a fairy tale, only to realize as an adult that it was probably rape, she said.

When she researched the tribe, she learned that they had been virtually wiped out.

“As Americans, we are all part of it in one way or another,” she said. “We all have oppressors and oppressed people in our family. »

In modern times, a 2016 study found that 84.3% of Native women have experienced violence in their lifetime, including 56.1% who have experienced sexual violence, according to the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs . Activists have pushed for policies to address a crisis that for generations has received little public attention.

In 2021, state legislators in Olympia created the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Persons Task Force.

And in 2022, the Washington State Patrol launched the Missing Native Persons Alert system. It broadcasts messages to subscribers and informs the relevant police services when an indigenous person disappears. As of June, the State Patrol had issued 105 missing indigenous people alerts, in new cases.

Eighty-nine people were found alive.

Five were found dead.

Eleven are still missing.

In its 2023 interim report, the task force recommended that the state increase funding for DNA testing and forensic genealogy of unidentified remains.

The task force also suggested creating a task force co-led by the state attorney general's office, the Washington Association of Sheriffs and Police Chiefs, family members and two tribal epidemiology centers, to develop best practices for the collection of Indigenous demographic data by law enforcement, coroners and medical examiners.

The task force recommended that the alert system be used nationally.

A final report is expected by June 1, 2025.

Gerry Davis poses for a photo with the words “Say Their Names” on his shirt at Hillcrest Park in Mount Vernon, Washington, Wednesday, May 29, 2024. (Annie Barker / The Herald)

“Work together and get them back”

Johnson-Davis' mother told her daughters that one of them should become a tribal police deputy and the other a social worker, Blouin recalled.

“So if we have a future family and our children are taken from us, we can work together and get them back,” Blouin said.

The documentary traces the childhood of the sisters.

When they were young, the state took them from their biological parents due to drug addiction. The girls were separated and placed with a foster family. There they were mistreated, Blouin said.

Johnson-Davis and Blouin then sued the foster care system and received settlements of $300,000, Blouin said.

American Indian and Alaska Native children are overrepresented in foster care, according to a 2021 fact sheet from the National Indian Child Welfare Association. About 1.8 percent of Washington's children are Native, while 5.6 percent of children in foster care are Native.

Davis plans to get a job in tribal law enforcement in Tulalip. But she doesn't remember hearing her mother's career advice. Rather, it was her sister, Johnson-Davis, who inspired her.

“His absence for such a long time makes me want to help those who are going through the same thing as us. Help protect and serve tribal members,” she said. “Family helps and protects each other. We didn't have the chance to protect our sister Mary.

“If you talk about her like she’s dead,” Davis added, “that means she’s not worth looking for.”

For now, she talks about her sister in the present tense.

Aina de Lapparent Alvarez: 425 339-3449; [email protected]; Twitter: @Ainadla.

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