Author: alaskaadmin

A legislative hearing scrutinizing unprecedented actions by state elections officials against U.S. Senate candidate Dan J. Sullivan escalated into a new controversy Wednesday with the revelation that 3,500 people have been removed from active voter rolls and asked to verify they are U.S. citizens.

Letters sent to those people from the Alaska Division of Elections state it has “received information from the Alaska Department of Motor Vehicles that you may not be a citizen.” Carol Beecher, the division’s director, told legislators the people notified have been placed on an inactive list and told they need to confirm their citizenship.

The notifications are part of a quarterly voter maintenance process in collaboration with DMV that typically results in about 200 notifications, Beecher said. However, DMV, in a memo issued Thursday, stated the elections division made a “a non-routine request” in March specifically for citizenship information involving 15,200 driver’s license and identification applicants.

Beecher told lawmakers the 3,500 people whose citizenship was flagged “was a lot more names than we were expecting” and “we’re not completely sure.”

People getting such notices simply need to contact the elections division to verify their citizenship, Beecher said. Residents who don’t respond can still cast a questioned ballot subject to verification.

The disclosure added partisan fuel to a series of actions by elections officials during the past several months that include decertifying Sullivan’s candidacy — which was quickly reversed by the Alaska Supreme Court — and agreeing to let the Trump administration flag people’s names for removal using confidential voter data provided by the state.

Rep. Andrew Gray, an Anchorage Democrat co-chairing Wednesday’s joint hearing by the House judiciary and state affairs committees, said his office is being contacted by numerous legal citizens who have received the letter challenging their status.

“I have a lot of questions about that and I have colleagues who have also been getting reached out to by constituents who are also receiving these letters, where people are having to go prove their citizenship in order to vote,” he said. “This is a matter of urgency.”

Beecher, a Republican who has previously declined to say if Joe Biden fairly defeated Donald Trump in the 2020 presidential election, told lawmakers Wednesday the recent citizen notices are not related to the voter data turned over to the U.S. Department of Justice.

“We have not heard from the DOJ regarding any list,” she said.

The memo from DMV states it is required to provide voter registration information to the elections division when a person opts for such registration when obtaining a license or ID. The request by elections officials for citizenship information departed from that norm.

“The data provided to Elections in March included only those records where DMV’s latest confirmed status for an individual was other than ‘Citizen,’” the memo notes.

The Trump administration is attempting a multitude of actions to alter and take control of election procedures now handled by states, including restrictions on mail voting, threatening states that don’t turn over voter data, and claiming previous elections have been rife with fraud perpetrated by Democrats and foreign countries.

An Alaska Beacon review of Division of Elections files turned over to the Department of Justice in 2025 found 70 people labeled as noncitizens who either voted or attempted to vote in the state between 2015 and 2025. The Beacon also found 541 people on an inactive voter list were flagged as non-citizens, but “officials say that may include false positives.”

Wednesday’s discussion about the citizenship notifications occurred about 80 minutes into the joint committee hearing that lasted about two hours. Most of the hearing focused on the elections division criteria for determining candidate eligibility, sparked by Beecher’s decision to decertify retired Petersburg teacher Dan J. Sullivan on the assertion his candidacy was intended to create confusion with incumbent Sen. Dan S. Sullivan.

The state supreme court at the end of June upheld a judge’s ruling that Beecher didn’t have the authority to disqualify a candidate based on perceived motives.

The legislative hearing about those actions resulted in a partisan skirmish between Beecher and legislators either challenging or supporting her based on their political allegiances. Lt. Gov. Nancy Dahlstrom, who oversees the elections division, was also scheduled to appear, but notified legislators at the last minute that she would not participate.

Beecher acknowledged a range of unprecedented actions were taken while decertifying Dan J. Sullivan and then when listing the two Sullivans on the primary election ballot. Dan S. Sullivan is the only officeholder to ever have “incumbent” listed by his name, for instance. The challenger is listed as “Sullivan, Daniel J. Jr.” (rather than his requested “Sullivan, Dan J.”) and is the only person on the ballot that does not have a party affiliation listed, even though he is a registered Republican.

In response to a multitude of questions from lawmakers about the fairness of her actions, Beecher said they were justified by the uniqueness of a candidate deliberately trying to create voter confusion and that her actions were within the boundaries of the law.

“The division’s ballot design does not unduly burden (Dan J. Sullivan’s) right to associate with the Republican Party,” she said. “The division kept his affiliation in other publications, and he remains free to campaign and communicate his Republican affiliation outside of the ballot.”

Concern about voters being misled by the omission of his party registration was voiced by Rep. Ashley Carrick, D-Fairbanks, the other co-chair of Thursday’s hearing.

“I think about left-leaning voters right now in my community who may want to vote for Dan J. Sullivan and then find out that he’s actually really right-leaning on issues and decide he’s not a candidate they want to support,” she said. “Having his party affiliation may help those voters feel like they’re more informed and directed to a candidate they would rather support. But not having his affiliation included there seems to provide less information and be more confusing.”

Beecher, in response to a question by Carrick about whether the ballot could have been designed differently, said while that was a possibility “this was the decision that the division made under what we have the authority to do with designing the ballot.”

“It was determined this would be the most distinctive way to differentiate between the two,” Beecher said.

A more favorable line of questions and comments came from Rep. Kevin McCabe, R-Big Lake.

“It seems to me that you’re protecting the voters in this case,” he said. “You’re trying to differentiate two candidates with similar names and this is how you’ve chosen to do it. And you said earlier in your statement that you have the freedom to do that. Are those all fair statements?”

“Yes, I would agree,” Beecher replied.

This story was originally published by the Juneau Independent.

The post Questions about state’s handling of election grow as 3,500 registered voters asked to verify citizenship appeared first on Chilkat Valley News.

In the week before Saturday’s four-hour ceremonial ku.eex, Lukaax̱.ádi clan trustee Jackie Pata spent her days running the culture camp at Chilkoot and her evenings in town putting the finishing touches on the Raven House. 

Pata said she had been watching children run through the house carrying things out to the garbage, helping with planting and carrying down paintbrushes, and then everyone sat down to dinner while clan leaders made a plan for the next day. Pata has strong memories of sitting in the Raven House as a young woman, watching the same things unfold. 

“I was just so overwhelmed by the feelings,” she said. She told the group to revel in all of the coordination, planning and energy in the historic clan house. “You will never, ever forget this moment. I want you to think it and feel it.” 

As the sun slowly warmed Front Street on Saturday, Pata and another clan trustee, Nathan Yéil Yádi Jackson, made a final visit to the Haines Sheldon Museum which stores a number of Lukaax̱.ádi Raven house heirlooms for safekeeping.  

People began to arrive around 10 a.m. for the ceremony which Lingit language scholar and teacher X’unei Lance Twitchell suggested be named tsu héide shoowduwataan ḵu.éex’, or the Ku.eex’ for Opening the Doors Again. 

A Lingit clan house is at the center of clan activity. Members can stay at the Raven house when they travel through the area; Pata said it’s also a place for workshops and ceremonies and sharing meals.  

This particular one has a long, complicated history in the Chilkat Valley and is an amalgamation of at least three others, including the Two Door House and Raven’s Wing House. According to a history of the Lukaax̱.ádi clan told by  Jeremy Timothy,  the Raven House was first constructed at a village site at 19 Mile, Kaatx’waaltu. After a mudslide it was relocated to Yandeist’aḵyé. Then it was dismantled again and relocated to Front Street. 

There was a dispute over ownership after Austin Daanawáak Hammond died and broke with tradition to leave it in trust, rather than passing it along to one person.  Along the way the house fell into disrepair. The process of restoring it again began in 2021, but that was complicated by the pandemic and Pata said even going into this year – when she knew they’d be re-dedicating it – painting was delayed by the long winter. People who have worked on the house in recent years have redone the plumbing and the majority of the electrical. 

“It was just an ongoing process,” Pata said. “We didn’t get any grants to do this, the clan members are just contributing their time and resources to do it as we can. That’s how it has been.” 

Pata said they put out the invitation to this year’s ku.eex’ later than they had hoped to.

“”I had an RSVP. I was hoping to get a rough count but few in Lingit country RSVP. Finally, I just gave up. I had no idea who was going to come and who wasn’t,” she said. 

But on Saturday the house was packed. At least 70 people came through the doors, some from the Lukaax̱.ádi, but many from other clans, there to witness and support the event. Mary Daaljini Cruise and Ricardo Kingeistí Worl stood in the center of the crowded living room, checking off names, coordinating where elders and honored guests were to sit, and keeping the ceremony moving.  Cruise, who lives in Juneau now, is Kaagwaantaan from Gooch Hit in Tlakw An (Klukwan) and Worl is Shangukeidí from Kaawdliyaayi Hít, also in Tlakw An. They both served as the naa káani, a person from an opposite clan who consults and guides the ceremony.  

Eventually, the crowd grew so large that clan members set up a microphone inside, its long cord trailed to a speaker in front of the house, so people could sit in chairs or stand along Front Street and still hear the ceremony. Many chose to do that when the heat inside became unbearable. 

Still, there were enough people moving through the space that the floors were creaking, particularly during the songs, dances and name-giving ceremonies.  

“One person said to me, ‘when you guys decided to stomp your feet we were nervous,’” Pata said. 

Pata said one of the reasons the clan pushed to get the house restored and re-dedicated is that its current caretakers are getting older. Kermit Cesar, of Juneau, was the third caretaker alongside Pata and Jackson. He recently died.  Jackson himself is nearly 90. 

“If anything happened to Nathan…,” Pata paused, then continued, “time became of the essence.” 

During the ceremony, the clan unveiled a new screen painted by Tsimshian artist David R. Boxley, whose father David A. Boxley crafted a new drum for the house. Both attended the ceremony. 

As she reflected on the day, Pata said she was struck again by the number of young faces, some of whom took on new names as part of the ceremony, including Kaayák’w Brandon Gomez, of Juneau, who was given the same name as the new drum Yéil Yádi X̱’út’ayi Du.áx̱ji, or “the sound of Nathan Jackson’s adze (can be heard).”  Aankadax̱steen Jeremy Timothy was given the same name as the newly unveiled screen, Yéil G̱aat X̱’éen.

Shawna Pustinen was given the name  Jiwdu.oo Al’eix̱í, or “The dancing of Nancy Jackson,” who Twitchell joked may have been the only one better at dancing than Nathan, who is well-known for his imitation of raven when he dances. 

Pata sees the Raven House renewal as part of a larger trend in Southeast Alaska where clans are coming together to restore historic homes and rebuild new ones. 

“We have a clan house emergency,” she said. “I’m looking forward to seeing the energy as clans strengthen themselves.” 

Pata pointed out that everyone who took on a new name was young —an intentional move by clan leadership. 

“They’re going to carry it. They’re going to feel the responsibilities and also the honor to represent the clan and continue its heritage,”  she said. 

She recalled Chilkat Valley elders like Smith “Smitty” Katzeek and Joe Hotch who have died in recent years.  “As I sat there in that room and I saw their descendants in the room with us, it was like their spirits were there and will continue on. It’s like they never left.” 

Mary Daaljíni Cruise, one of two naa káani, helped guide and consult on the ceremonial re-dedication of the Raven House on Saturday, July 19, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Nathaniel Revels watches the crowd form for the Raven House rededication on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines,Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Tim Ackerman speaks to an elder during the re-dedication of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

X̱ʼunei Lance Twitchell, a Lingít language scholar and teacher, talks with people in the crowd before the ceremonial re-dedication of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Jones and Lani Hotch, of Klukwan, chat with artist Jackson Polys, during the Raven House re-dedication on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Ricardo Kingeistí Worl wore this beaded vest as he helped to coordinate the Raven House rededication Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah Mcchesney/Chilkat Valley News)

A cedar hat was one of many regalia items people wore or displayed during the Raven House redidication on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah Mcchesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Nathan Yéil Yádi Jackson holds a carved spoon he presented as a gift to David R. Boxley, who painted the new screen hanging in the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Kaayák’w Brandon Gomez, who was given the name Yéil Yádi X̱’út’ayi Du.áx̱ji, or “the sound of Nathan Jackson’s adze during a ceremony at the Raven House helps to gather gifts for the people who came out to support the Lukaax̱.ádi clan as they re-dedicated the house on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (can be heard). Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

(left) Shawna Pustinen Jiwdu.oo Al’eix̱í and Jackie Pata play the drums as Kaayák’w Brandon Yéil Yádi X̱’út’ayi Du.áx̱ji, Gomez, Aankadax̱steen Jeremy Yéil G̱aat X̱’éen Timothy and Shawna Jiwdu.oo Al’eix̱í Pustinen dance during the Raven House dedication on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

At least 75 people attended a ceremony to re-dedicate the Raven House in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Children play on the couch during a ceremonial re-dedication of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Rosita Kaaháni Worl speaks to a crowd during the re-dedication of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

A new drum was unveiled and named Yéil Yádi X̱’út’ayi Du.áx̱ji, or “the sound of Nathan Jackson’s adze (can be heard),” during the Raven House during a re-dedication ceremony by the Lukaax̱.ádi clan on July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

X’unei Lance Twitchell listens to speakers during a Raven House rededicationc eremony on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Tsimshian artist David A. Boxley speaks to a crowd about a screen he painted for the Lukaax̱.ádi clan on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News) Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

(left) X’unei Lance Twitchell, Nathan Yéil Yádi Jackson, Jackie Pata, Rosita Kaaháni Worl and Mary Daaljini Cruise laugh during a ceremonial re-dedication of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

on Friday, Feb. 20, 2026, near Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

on Friday, Feb. 20, 2026, near Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Kaayák’w Brandon Gomez, of Juneau, takes on the name Yéil Yádi X̱’út’ayi Du.áx̱ji, or “the sound of Nathan Jackson’s adze (can be heard),” which was also the name given to the new drum in front of him, during the Raven House during a re-dedication ceremony by the Lukaax̱.ádi clan on July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

A newly unveiled screen, called Yéil G̱aat X̱’éen, at the Lukaax̱.ádi Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Nathan Yéil Yádi Jackson gets a hug from Kaayák’w Brandon Gomez, of Juneau, who took on the name Yéil Yádi X̱’út’ayi Du.áx̱ji, or “the sound of Nathan Jackson’s adze (can be heard)” during the Raven House during a re-dedication ceremony by the Lukaax̱.ádi clan on July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Tsimshian artist David A. Boxley speaks to a crowd in front of a screen he painted for the Lukaax̱.ádi clan on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Nathan Yéil Yádi Jackson speaks to a crowd in the living room of the Raven House during a re-dedication ceremony by the Lukaax̱.ádi clan on July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Aankadax̱steen Jeremy Timothy was given the same name as a newly unveiled screen at the Raven House, Yéil G̱aat X̱’éen, during a re-dedication ceremony on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Shawna Pustinen tears up as she is given the name Jiwdu.oo Al’eix̱í, or “The dancing of Nancy Jackson,” during a ceremonial ku.eex and re-dedication of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

(left) Shawna Pustinen Jiwdu.oo Al’eix̱í and Jackie Pata play the drums as Kaayák’w Brandon Yéil Yádi X̱’út’ayi Du.áx̱ji, Gomez and Shawna Jiwdu.oo Al’eix̱í Pustinen dance during the Raven House dedication on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Members of opposing (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

After a four-hour ḵu.éex’ dozens donned regalia for photographs outside of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Aankadax̱steen Jeremy Timothy, who was also given the name Yéil G̱aat X̱’éen, steps out into the daylight after the ceremony as many prepared to be photographed in their regalia in front of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

After a four-hour ḵu.éex’ dozens donned regalia for photographs outside of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Ricardo Kingeistí Worl walks out of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Nathan Yéil Yádi Jackson in his regalia, heading out of the Raven House for a group photo on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. Jackson, a Lukaax̱.ádi clan trustee, carved the raven currently adorning the front of the house. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Nathan Yéil Yádi Jackson in his regalia, heading out of the Raven House for a group photo on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. Jackson, a Lukaax̱.ádi clan trustee, carved the raven currently adorning the front of the house. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

X’unei Lance Twitchell walks out of the Raven House for a photo on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Shawna Pustinen holds a raven mask while heading out of the Raven House for photos after a re-dedication ceremony on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. Pustinen was given the name Jiwdu.oo Al’eix̱í, or “The dancing of Nancy Jackson,” during the ḵu.éex’. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Lukaax̱.ádi clan trustee Jackie Pata walks down the steps of the Raven House for a group photo after a re-dedication on Saturday, July 18 in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Many of those who attended the ceremonial ku.eex, re-dedicating the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Many of those who attended the ceremonial ku.eex, re-dedicating the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

Members of the Lukaax̱.ádi clan in front of the Raven House on Saturday, July 18, 2026, in Haines, Alaska. (Rashah McChesney/Chilkat Valley News)

The post Lukaax̱.ádi Clan re-dedicates Raven House appeared first on Chilkat Valley News.

This article first appeared on High Country News and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

In Interior Alaska, near the Canadian border, a small Alaska Native community called Dot Lake Village sits just off the Alaska Highway. Cradled between the Alaska Range and the Tanana River, it is a tight-knit community whose roughly 180 tribal members live a traditional subsistence life every summer — fishing nearby rivers and lakes and harvesting food for the coming months. Elders who grew up speaking Athabascan and enjoying potlatches overflowing with salmon, berries and moose run culture camps to empower future generations.

This year, however, the community is preparing for the worst — the potentially harmful consequences of a nearby man camp.

The man camp is being constructed to house workers for the Manh Choh project, a new open-pit gold mine located roughly 10 miles from the town of Tok, part of the Trump administration’s agenda to prioritize resource development.

“When we first heard of the man camp, I just had this sinking gut feeling,” said Tracy Charles-Smith, president of the Dot Lake Village Council. “And I reflected long and hard about why I’m feeling this way, and I thought: Of all my friends from the nearby villages, of all my siblings and cousins of my generation, I’m the only one that hasn’t been raped. And that’s a harsh reality.”

Charles-Smith has lived through several waves of resource development in Alaska. She remembered the Fairbanks pipeline boom of the 1970s, which brought job opportunities to her family and others in the community. But it brought other, unwelcome things, too: In the late 1980s, for example, Charles-Smith’s sister worked on the cleanup crew for the Exxon Oil Spill. The area was filled with out-of-state workers who took up temporary residence in man camps. During her time working there, her sister said, she was abducted and taken to a landfill, where two men tried to assault her. She was almost murdered but managed to escape.

Today, Alaska stands on the cusp of another surge of resource development. Projects including the Pikka Oil Project and the Alaska LNG Project are still in the early stages but expected to move forward in the coming years. The LNG Pipeline alone will cost upward of about $46 billion, creating an 807-mile-long pipeline and providing around 10,000 jobs.

Many of the projects had been under discussion for years, and, in some cases, decades. But now they’re among the recently greenlit initiatives in Trump’s Jan. 20, 2025, executive order, “Unleashing Alaska’s Extraordinary Energy Potential.” And Alaska Native communities are already rallying in response.

ALASKA IN THE 1970S was booming. When construction of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System began in 1974, about 70,000 workers, most of them male, flooded into the state, turning Fairbanks into a boomtown. The project brought employment opportunities and economic prosperity and helped launch Alaska’s modern oil industry — something many residents welcomed.

Some Alaskans embraced the chaotic boomtown atmosphere, despite reports of prostitution, cash-fueled bar scenes and parties along the construction corridor. In an article for the PBS series American Experience, former Fairbanks Police Officer J.B. Carnahan recalled it as “a circus every night,” fueled by an influx of workers and newcomers with thousands of dollars in cash.

Disorder naturally followed. Within a year, arrests in Fairbanks jumped by 95%, with sharp increases across nearly every major category, according to a 1976 environmental impact statement for the Alaska Natural Gas Transportation System, published by the Federal Power Commission. Sex offenses other than rape rose 90%, while rape increased by 40% and homicide by 50%. Other crimes surged as well: Robbery increased 123%, weapons possession rose by 97%, and prostitution and commercialized vice surged 700% — though some of the increase in arrests was attributed to causes other than the pipeline project, including stricter departmental policies.

Beyond the visible chaos, there were other impacts. Local newspapers from 1974 to 1976 carried a noticeable rise in headlines about girls and women who had disappeared. The stories of murdered and missing women, including Indigenous women, haunted locals.

“We know there was trafficking of women here,” Charles-Smith said. “We know that there were serial killers in the neighborhood (in the region).”

Some of the human-trafficking reports involved Bill Allen, who, in 1968, co-founded Veco Corporation, an oil field services company he oversaw as CEO for the next 40 years. Rumors of sexual assault and trafficking followed him closely. By 2004, the Anchorage Police Department and FBI had begun investigating Allen for multiple allegations of sexual abuse of underage girls. And in 2008, the Anchorage Police Department opened a case alleging that Allen had solicited sex with a minor under the age of 16. The cases exemplify the kind of resource development-related crimes Alaska Native communities are concerned about today.

“We know there was trafficking of women here. We know that there were serial killers in the neighborhood (in the region).”

– Tracy Charles-Smith

In 2009, without giving a reason, the Federal Department of Justice suddenly halted the 2008 investigation. In 2016, the state of Alaska then tried — for a second time — to pursue charges against Allen for moving a minor across state lines for sex under the Mann Act, a federal law that criminalizes the transport of any individual with intent to engage in prostitution or in any sexual activity.

In 2014, Paula Roberds, a Yup’ik woman from the village Goodnews Bay who was later identified as the minor in the 2008 case, sued Allen, accusing him of sexual assault and sexual abuse of a minor over a two-year period.

IN 2017, RESEARCH conducted by Loyola University New Orleans looked at trafficking rates in 10 of the cities where the problem was considered most serious. Anchorage ranked highest among the selection of U.S. and Canadian cities that have a Covenant House location, surpassing more-populated places like Los Angeles and New Orleans.

The unique dynamics of a resource boom create conditions ideal for human trafficking. In Alaska, many development projects hire workers using a two-week-on, two-week-off schedule, with most coming from other parts of the state or the Lower 48. Today, roughly 40.5% of oil and gas workers and 44.2% of miners are non-residents, according to a 2026 report released by the Alaska Department of Labor and Workforce Development. Many of them stay in man camps provided by the development companies.

Victoria Sweet, a human-trafficking researcher, identified three characteristics common to high-trafficking areas: large numbers of transient men coming in, rural or remote locations with little law enforcement and vulnerable populations. These were found most often near resource development and near Indigenous communities — places like Alaska.

“While extractive industry development projects are not created to victimize women, violence against women has been the by-product of numerous development projects,” Sweet wrote in a study focused on human trafficking in the Arctic. Most workers stay out of trouble, but the increase in male populations has historically been linked to an increase of violence, including human trafficking.

Sweet goes on to note that the likelihood of violent crime increases when people come in with no allegiance or connection to the community — even if they were law-abiding citizens back home. Their very anonymity can embolden them; with so many men coming and going, individual crimes and offenders become harder to trace. Not all man camps are a threat to nearby communities; many of the camps on Alaska’s North Slope are strictly regulated and constructed miles away from local communities. Some can only be accessed via bush plane. Other camps have thorough security, with only authorized workers permitted on the premises; everyone who comes and goes from the site is closely tracked. Such measures could potentially lower trafficking risks, an industry expert says.

But other man camps are established near roadways that connect to Alaska Native villages, leaving those communities on edge.

THE MAHN CHOH MINE began operating in late 2023. During the permitting process earlier that year, Alaska Native advocates started preparing local communities for the coming influx of workers, most of whom would reside in man camps.

When Charles-Smith first learned about the mine, she began reaching out to tribal leaders near similar camps in neighboring Canada and the Lower 48 and contacting sexual assault prevention coalitions and organization. She read studies that focused on man camps and violence against Native communities.

“There were horrific stories coming out … of Canada in relationship to mining man camps in proximity to tribes,” she said.

The village got to work immediately, establishing a Native-led sexual assault response team that could provide onsite medical care and connect survivors to services. Community members received training on how to recognize and respond to human trafficking, and the village created a dedicated hotline for victims.

“It’s the first Native-led sexual assault team in the state,” said Alan Faulkner, chief operating officer for Dot Lake Village. “We’ve got our number ready for anybody that is a victim — they can call, and we can respond and get them access to services.”

The training has already had tangible results. Last summer, the village received a report that two teenage girls were being trafficked near Manh Choh man camp, said Faulkner. Community members alerted village leaders who then alerted law enforcement, which quickly intervened.

“We have tried to make our tribal members aware of the dangers — to keep our staff updated and to know what the signs and symptoms are,” Faulkner said.

The people in charge of the mine carried out their own preparations. According to a statement provided to HCN on behalf of Kinross Alaska, the company took measures to ensure community concerns were heard.

“Since the early planning stages of the Manh Choh Mine, and as is standard practice at all projects and operations, Kinross met with and listened to nearby villages and communities to better understand their perspectives about potential social impacts associated with large industrial developments. This included increased alcohol-related crime, pressure on local law enforcement resources, and the social impacts that can accompany a predominantly male workforce operating near rural communities,” the company’s statement read.

According to the statement, the company made the man camp alcohol- and drug-free. Only authorized personnel were allowed onsite, and procedures were established for tracking personnel. The company also supported events that raise awareness of Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women.

Faulkner said, however, that to his knowledge, neither the mine itself nor Kinross had reached out to Dot Lake or to Charles-Smith or to him for consultation.

Dot Lake Village decided to take matters into its own hands owing to the community’s rural location, which left residents vulnerable to outsiders.

Law enforcement is limited in remote areas, with many villages forced to rely on a single regional state trooper. That leads to long response times — especially in villages located off the road system, where bad weather can delay bush plane travel for days. And the overlapping jurisdictions can create more confusion.

“It’s easy to hide. It’s easy to get away with stuff up here, just because of how vast our land is,” said Gwen Adams, founder of the nonprofit Priceless, which works to help sex-trafficking survivors.

In recent years, though, Adams said, law enforcement has demonstrated greater understanding about trafficking.

Tracy Charles-Smith hopes that community-wide initiatives can prevent further trafficking cases and that the initiatives taken by her village will inspire others.

“We’re in a position to help tribes do everything that we are, because, you know, we’re not going to sit there,” Charles-Smith said. “We want to empower other tribes, and we have the capability to.”

We welcome reader letters. Email High Country News at editor@hcn.org or submit a letter to the editor. See our letters to the editor policy.

This article appeared in the July 2026 print edition of the magazine with the headline “Bracing for man camps.”

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Half of Alaska’s economic growth from 2015 to 2023 came from one source. 

Not oil, which added perhaps $4.5 billion over that stretch. 

Not mining or fishing, which together added less than a quarter of that. 

Federal spending grew by nearly $9 billion over those years, against roughly $16.5 billion in total state GDP growth. 

Twenty billion dollars is roughly what Washington D.C. spent in Alaska in federal fiscal year 2023, close to 30% of the state’s entire economy. 

Those numbers come from a June forum Commonwealth North co-hosted with the University of Alaska Anchorage’s Institute of Social and Economic Research and Build Alaska’s Future, where three University of Alaska researchers sized Washington’s role in our economy. What they found should get attention. What they couldn’t find should get more.

Here is the problem: the data stops at 2023. Nobody, including the researchers who study this for a living, can say with confidence what the federal government spent in Alaska last year. ISER holds federal grants itself and struggles to learn the status of its own funding, relying on informal conversations with program officers. If the state’s premier economic research institute cannot track its own money, no one else is tracking Alaska’s largest GDP contributor of roughly $20 billion.

The one gauge still working tells a sobering story. Federal personnel data, which itself only recently became accessible to researchers, shows Alaska’s federal civilian workforce fell 15.8% between April 2024 and April 2026, steeper than the national decline of 14.8%. Alaska ranks third among states whose residents rely on these workers, behind only Maryland and Hawaii.

Almost none of that came from firings. Alaska saw comparatively few layoffs and few probationary terminations. The losses came overwhelmingly through the deferred resignation program, and the people who took it averaged a decade of federal service. Park rangers, biological technicians, the field workers who keep public lands functioning and, with them, the tourism economy that depends on access to those lands.

So we can watch the experience walk out the door. We cannot see what is happening to the far larger flow of dollars that never touches a payroll, the grants and contracts that move through hospitals, contractors and Alaska Native corporations across the state.

Alaskans can debate what the right level of federal presence should be. We cannot debate it well in the dark.

This is where Alaska’s congressional delegation has both standing and leverage. Federal reporting systems answer to Congress. A state where federal spending drove half of recent growth has a large stake in transparent, timely data. And a delegation that wants credit for Alaska’s federal share should want the gauges working most of all. You cannot point to a record that runs in the dark.

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