Ashley tries to wake up her older sister Dani, for whom her family searched for two years. “I’m the big sister now,” she said. The family, who is Navajo, started to grapple with a painful and lonely epilogue to its missing-persons saga, since Dani returned home after been missing for two years. “There’s nothing for what comes after,” said Ms. Jones, 48, who has five daughters. “How do you heal? How do you put your family back together?”
Thousands of Native American women and girls are reported missing every year in what Indigenous activists call a long-ignored crisis.Indigenous activists say that generations of killings and disappearances have been disregarded by law enforcement and lost in bureaucratic gaps concerning which local or federal agencies should investigate.
There is not even a reliable count of how many Native women go missing or are killed each year. Researchers have found that women are often misclassified as Hispanic or Asian or other racial categories on missing-persons forms and that thousands have been left off a federal missing-persons database.
Dani arrives unannounced one December evening in 2019 to visit her children at their grandparents' home, who have their custody, in Gallup, New Mexico She was not let in.
Dani went missing from Gallup in September 2017 after years of drug use and personal and legal problems. Court records show she had lost custody of her two young children and been arrested several times earlier that year on charges that included burglary and fleeing the police in a stolen truck after a police officer reported seeing her and another man — both apparently on drugs — trying to break into a self-storage unit.
Families and law enforcement celebrate publicly when vanished indigenous women are found alive. "Safe!" "She is home." "Thank you for prayers." But it is just the beginning of a second, knottier chapter in the story of the crisis of missing indigenous women and girls, and activists and families say that a near-absence of social services and mental-health support leaves hundreds of women and girls vulnerable to falling back into cycles of abuse, trauma and disappearance.
Dani (left) and her mother, Prudence Jones, get in their car after they arrived unannounced to visit Dani's children at their grandparents' home in Gallup, New Mexico, who have their custody. They were not let in
Dani waits for her mother outside a motel lobby in Gallup, New Mexico.
Dani went missing in 2017 and was found in July 2019 in a prison in Albuquerque. Due to her delicate mental state upon her return, her family is still unaware of her whereabouts during the period she went missing.
Families and law enforcement celebrate publicly when vanished indigenous women are found alive. "Safe!" "She is home." "Thank you for prayers." But it is just the beginning of a second, knottier chapter in the story of the crisis of missing indigenous women and girls, and activists and families say that a near-absence of social services and mental-health support leaves hundreds of women and girls vulnerable to falling back into cycles of abuse, trauma and disappearance.
Route 66 runs through the center of Gallup, a town in northwestern New Mexico. The ”Heart Of The Indian Country”, as it calls itself, is also the heart of the Navajo Nation. Historically an important trading post, the famous highway is full of cheap motels, closed souvenirs stores, gas stations and bars. According to USA Today, Gallup is one of the poorest and most violent places in the state.
Prudence with her daughters Dani and twins Renee and Ashley at a cafeteria in Gallup, New Mexico. She spent two years handing out “Missing” fliers and searching homeless camps and underpasses for her 28-year-old daughter when she got the call she had been praying for: Dani had been found. She was in a New Mexico jail, but she was alive.
It seemed like a happy ending to the story of one of thousands of Native American women and girls who are reported missing every year in what Indigenous activists call a long-ignored crisis.
But as Ms. Jones visited Dani in jail, saw the fresh scars on her body and tried to comprehend the physical and spiritual toll of two years on the streets, her family, which is Navajo, started to grapple with a painful and lonely epilogue to its missing-persons saga.
Prudence hugs her daughter Ashley in the motel room the family shares in Gallup, New mexico. Breakdowns are common, as the family struggles to deal of the emotional and physical cars that two years on the streets left on Dani - and on them.
“There’s nothing for what comes after,” said Ms. Jones, 48, who has five daughters. “How do you heal? How do you put your family back together?
Prudence and Ashley in the motel room they're living in in Gallup, New Mexico.
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Dani asleep on the bathroom floor of motel room they are living in Gallup, New Mexico. She spent the night there. Since Dani returned, her mother says she prefers to sleep on the floor, and when she sleeps on the bed she stays on top of the covers.
Dani in the motel room with her mother.
Indigenous activists say that generations of killings and disappearances have been disregarded by law enforcement and lost in bureaucratic gaps concerning which local or federal agencies should investigate.
Family photos are constantly being shown to her, in the hopes that she will connect it with feelings of love and stability and will help her reconnect with her family.
Dani went missing from Gallup in September 2017 after years of drug use and personal and legal problems. Court records show she had lost custody of her two young children and been arrested several times earlier that year on charges that included burglary and fleeing the police in a stolen truck after a police officer reported seeing her and another man — both apparently on drugs — trying to break into a self-storage unit.
Dani with her sister Ashely and mom Prudence at a saturday fair in Gallup, New Mexico.
Dani has told her family little about the time she spent living mostly on the streets and in homeless camps.