KNBA - Anchorage

The families of three more victims of last year’s fatal Bering Air plane crash have sued the regional airline.

The pilot and all nine passengers died when Bering Air Flight 445 crashed on sea ice on its way from Unalakleet to Nome.

A preliminary report from the National Transportation Safety Board found that the Cessna Caravan was overweight when it flew into icing conditions. The agency hasn’t yet determined the cause of the crash.

The family of one of the passengers, JaDee Moncur, filed the first wrongful death lawsuit in Nome Superior Court last week.

Two more lawsuits followed in Nome Superior Court in the days after – one filed by the family of passenger Talaluk Katchatag and another one by the families of Donnell Erickson and Kameron Hartvigson.

All of the complaints are based on the NTSB preliminary report and assert claims for wrongful death.

In a statement, Bering Air President Russell Rowe said it would be inappropriate for the company to comment on the lawsuit now “out of respect for the legal process and the families involved.”

“Bering Air continues to cooperate fully with the NTSB, the FAA, and all other appropriate authorities as their investigations continue,” Rowe wrote.

The NTSB expects to release a full report into the crash in early summer.

Rayna Paul sat in an Anchorage office on Monday, scrolling through a spreadsheet filled with hundreds of names and phone numbers of Kipnuk tribal members.

“We are just on As,” she said with a chuckle.

Paul is Kipnuk’s environmental director who is in charge of the village’s voting process. Over the next several days, she and her team plan to call every single adult tribal member – that’s about 900 people – and ask them a pressing question: Do they want to rebuild the village in its current location or move to higher ground?

“It’s very important for us to find out what the tribal members from Kipnuk want to do, so we can continue trying to move forward in applying for funding,” she said. “We’re always on a timeline.”

Kipnuk sits about 4 miles inland from the Bering Sea, in the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta. Last fall’s disastrous winds and flooding destroyed homes and infrastructure there and contaminated land and water. Today, most residents remain evacuated in Bethel or Anchorage, including Paul. She said she wants the future Kipnuk to be safe.

“We love our community. We miss our community,” Paul said. “We’re doing it for our future generations to come, because they might not know what to do when this happens again. I think we’re just going to be hit with many, many storm events.”

The first community meeting about whether to relocate happened about a week ago. The decision to start voting followed swiftly.

Sheryl Musgrove, who directs the climate justice program under the Alaska Institute for Justice, is assisting the village in the process. She said residents need to act quickly to make the most of both the short construction season and the available funding for disaster recovery.

“It seems fast, but we’re four months out from the disaster,” Musgrove said. “The tribe just needs to know which direction they’re going, so that they can put their efforts into following the path forward that they determine is the best path for them.”

The relocation process can be costly, but Musgrove pointed out that so is repairing and rebuilding homes and infrastructure.

The fall storm also destroyed much of Kwigillingok and residents have already voted to relocate. Musgrove said that while the relocation of another village in the region, Newtok, took decades, she hopes that Kipnuk and Kwigillingok can be examples of how to move through this process faster.

“They don’t have decades. They need to do it immediately,” Musgrove said. “My hope is, they can show other communities that are going to be faced with this in the future, that you can rebuild someplace else – if that’s what they decide – on a short timeline as the disaster recovery process.”

Right now, Kipnuk leadership is looking at two sites for relocation. They are both between the village and Chefornak, in the area of a historical settlement called Cheeching. Both spots are located on higher ground, one close to the ocean and the second one further inland. The village would have to work with either the Chefarnrmute Corporation or U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to obtain ownership of the sites.

During the voting process, Paul said she and her team of four will also ask residents if they want to suggest any other sites for relocation.

They still have a lot of phone calls to make. While Kipnuk was home to about 700 people, Paul said the Native Village of Kipnuk has closer to 1,240 tribal members, and about 900 of them are ages 18 or older. She said they hope to reach all the adults within a week.

“It’s hard, but it’s doable,” Paul said.

Paul said she’s unsure how long the process will actually take and when the results will be announced. She said that if Kipnuk residents don’t receive a call by Friday, they should reach out to her and provide their phone number.

The family of one of the victims who died in a Bering Air plane crash last year is suing the regional airline. The news came a day before the anniversary of the crash, which killed all 10 people on board and shook communities in Northwest Alaska.

Bering Air Flight 445 was on its regularly scheduled route from Unalakleet to Nome when it crashed about 30 miles southeast of Nome.

The family of JaDee Moncur, one of the passengers, filed a wrongful death lawsuit in Nome Superior Court on Thursday.

“It’s a hard week one year the same week after the accident,” said Casey DuBose, an attorney with Aviation Law Group, which is based in Seattle and represents the family. “But as we’ve done our investigation, we have enough evidence, and we decided it’s time to get moving forward with this litigation so that their family can get answers and some justice out of this terrible incident.”

Bering Air did not respond to a request for comment as of Thursday.

The federal National Transportation Safety Board has not released its full investigation into the crash. However, a preliminary report found that the Cessna Caravan was almost a thousand pounds overweight when it flew into icing conditions.

The plaintiffs argue that led to the crash.

“This aircraft flew into an area of known ice, and we think that that’s ultimately the cause of what had the aircraft lose control,” DuBose said. “As you fly into icing conditions, that ice, as it accumulates on the airframe, adds an incredible amount of weight, very rapidly.”

The court complaint also alleges that the plane flew without adequate safeguards for the conditions, though that has not been confirmed by federal investigators. DuBose said the allegations are based on the NTSB’s preliminary report and an independent investigation by the law group.

The crash victims included a mentor to new teachers, a school counselor and two employees with the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium who were traveling to service a local water plant. Moncur, 52, was one of six victims from Southcentral Alaska.

Moncur was born in Wyoming and moved to Alaska in 2008, his family had said in an obituary. An avid outdoorsman and church volunteer, Moncur worked as a project engineer and lived in Eagle River. He is survived by his wife and three adult children.

The family said in a written statement that they appreciate the outpouring of support they have received throughout the year.

“In the wake of this tragedy, we have taken legal action to seek answers and accountability regarding the circumstances of the crash,” the family said. “We hope that through this process, we can contribute to greater aviation safety so that others do not have to endure what we have.”

NTSB officials said they anticipate the final investigation into the crash to be released in early summer.

Those who knew and loved Marlene Johnson say she was in constant motion — either behind the scenes, or on the forefront of the major issues that have shaped life for Alaska Natives for more than 60 years.

The Lingít leader died on Jan. 25 at the age of 90.

“People don’t realize how different Alaska would be without her, certainly Alaska Native lives,” said Vera Starbard, Johnson’s granddaughter, known for her poetry and as a screenwriter for national programs like the PBS hit series Molly of Denali and the TV drama, Alaska Daily.

Starbard says her grandmother sent her a steady stream of job leads, a sign that she found her chosen career to be too quiet and sedentary. Yet it has given Starbard plenty of time to reflect on her grandmother, enough to begin work on a play about how she became a voice for change.

Advocacy for ANCSA

Johnson’s role in the passage of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act is one of her biggest legacies. Today, ANCSA remains the nation’s largest land claims settlement in history – legislation she helped to steer through Congress during the 1960s, legislation that changed Alaska forever.

It wasn’t an easy time to be a Native in politics, or a woman.

“The men had the voice. They were out front, and they were the speakers,” Irene Rowan said. “But somehow, Marlene became a voice among all those men. I often wondered, how did she do it?”

Back then, Rowan worked for the federal government and became part of an ANCSA support group called “Alaskans on the Potomac.”

As a woman trying to navigate a male-dominated world, Johnson was an inspiration, said Rowan. “She was royalty. People looked up to her. She was rich. She was rich with knowledge and with enthusiasm,” she said.

Rosita Worl, another up-and-coming Lingít leader in those days, also learned from Johnson.

“She exemplified what we know and recognize as a leader, and they don’t come along very often,” Worl said, maybe once in a lifetime.

“I don’t think people thought of her as a woman or a man. They just admired her leadership capabilities,” Worl said.

Breaking barriers

Vera Starbard says she marvels at how her grandmother was able to break through gender and race barriers.

“She always insisted on being taken seriously,” Starbard said, “but at the same time, she had to figure out how to maneuver in that world, let her voice be heard, when literally some people would not hear it.”

Starbard says people forget that Johnson was a single mom, who not only raised six kids, but was also a businesswoman. She co-owned a regional air taxi service in her home village of Hoonah and became one of the first women to lead a Native corporation. For more than a decade, she served on the Sealaska board. Johnson also helped to found many of the educational organizations and non-profits that make up today’s social service safety net.

A 2009 interview with Dr. Thomas Thornton, an ethnologist at Sealaska Heritage Institute, offers clues about the source of Johnson’s passion for public service. Johnson told him about the racism she encountered in Juneau, where her family moved in the late 1940’s so she could attend high school.

“I shouldn’t confess doing anything wrong in my life,” Johnson laughed, as she described an ongoing late-night mission that she and her girlfriends carried out.

“A few of us that were considered “Breeds” would go down the street and rip the signs off the bars, and there were bars all up and down South Franklin Street that aren’t there now, that said ‘No Coasties. No Indians. No dogs allowed.'”

She said Coasties was slang for Coast Guard members, who had a reputation for getting into fights—and like Natives and dogs, were unwelcome.

The path to power

Somewhere along the line, Johnson evolved from an activist into a statesman, and Native corporations, with their growing wealth and resources, became a vehicle for change.

“Without ANCSA, we would be back where we were in the early ’60s, where discrimination would still be here? I am a firm believer of that,” Johnson said.

Emil Notti, the first president of the Alaska Federation of Natives, the main group which led the land claims fight, said Johnson overcame the chauvinism of the day through her hard work and understanding of the issues.

“She stood on her own, her qualifications,” Notti said. “She wasn’t put there because she was a woman. She was put there because she was an effective advocate.”

Notti says Johnson worked well with different factions of Alaska Natives, who resisted compromise, a role pivotal to the passage of ANCSA. Notti believes her experience with the Alaska Native Brotherhood honed her skills as trusted and persuasive negotiator.

Tireless advocacy

Over the years, Notti said, he watched her sphere of influence continue to grow.

In a 2011 interview with the late journalist Nellie Moore, Johnson mapped out how Alaska Natives could become agents of change.

“Alaska Natives, I don’t care where you’re from, need to be involved. They need to sit on boards. They need to sit on commissions,” she said. “The Alaska Native perspective needs to be heard, that we aren’t sitting on a stump doing nothing — that we are just like everybody else,” Johnson said. “We have a brain, and we use it. We have muscles and we use it. And we have respect for each other, and we don’t call other people names like they sometimes call us.”

Not long before Johnson died, Notti and Willie Hensley, another leader in the claims fight, visited Johnson in Juneau. Notti said, when he realized her time was almost over, he felt a wave of loneliness — because there are only about a dozen people still alive who really know the story of ANCSA.

“There are 500 stories. Everybody who was involved has a story. You look at the same event, see it different. You get all kinds of stories. But in there, somewhere, is what really happened,” Notti said. Now there is one less voice in the ANCSA band of warriors.

Notti says every momentous historical event spawns a “greatest generation,” and ANCSA was one of those that brought out the best in Alaska Natives, who accomplished what many believed was impossible.

As the Northern Lights danced, Marlene Johnson departed

And for Rosita Worl, Marlene Johnson was one of those who rose to the occasion and became a force to be reckoned with.

“The night before she left us, we had just spectacular Northern Lights. That said to me, those are our warriors, ready to embrace this leader in the spirit world.”

But for her family, Johnson’s exit was more down-to-earth. Vera Starbard says her grandmother, in her last days, was telling jokes — bad ones at that. “And she said, ‘Boy I better talk more. Those will be my last words,” Starbard said. “She was very aware of what was happening and still going to make a joke out of it.”

When everybody laughed, Starbard was reminded that it was Johnson’s keen sense of humor that was her secret weapon in life. It disarmed her opponents and endeared her supporters.

“It was a mass of privilege being Marlene Johnson’s granddaughter,” she said, “but I miss the woman who made wild strawberry jam really well.” “

Kipnuk resident Rayna Paul fought back tears as she talked about how the remnants of Typhoon Halong ravaged her village — and why relocating is so important for the next generation.

“We want them to have a livable life too,” she said, and then continued in Yup’ik, “Safe-alriamek cucuklirarkaugukut relocate-ararkaukumta,” which means, “We have to pick land that is safe if we are to re-locate.”

Paul joined more than 50 Kipnuk residents at a meeting on Saturday to begin discussing the future of their village after last fall’s powerful storm destroyed homes, contaminated water and forced nearly everyone to leave. Now the residents face a critical decision: rebuild in the same spot or move to higher ground?

Kipnuk Village Council President Daniel Paul said the community is divided.

“I had many calls from our tribal members, half of them wanna stay, half wanna go,” he said. “Relocation decision will be upon my tribal members, their votes and their voice inputs.”

Kipnuk is about four miles inland from the Bering Sea coast and was once home to about 700 people. Most remain evacuated in Anchorage or Bethel, except for a group of roughly 100 residents who are back in the village working to rebuild. There’s a lot to do. The storm demolished about 150 homes, damaged boardwalks, disturbed gravesites and left lands and water contaminated with spilled oil and other hazardous materials.

On Saturday, the community began discussing its future.

Sheryl Musgrove, who directs the climate justice program under the Alaska Institute for Justice, told residents that it’s up to them to decide whether to relocate.

“It’s a decision of the community alone,” she said. “No one can force you to move, but then again, others can’t force people to stay there either.”

Residents spoke predominantly in Yup’ik, asking what relocation could look like. Some asked about how to choose a new site and secure land ownership.

“Who is dealing with the land?” Larry Kalistook asked. “Is anyone dealing with the land?”

Others pondered what it would take to set up critical infrastructure in a new place. Village Council Vice President Chris Alexie said figuring out a school, an airport and a health clinic would be a start.

“Those are the most important things, and water and sewer systems also,” Alexie said. “It’s not going to be easy but we’re going to deal with this.”

Alexie said that working through the relocation process could take years.

For Newtok, it took decades and well over $100 million. In Kwigillingok, the other village hit hardest by the storm, residents have already voted to move. But it’s unclear when it will happen and how much it will cost.

If Kipnuk decides to relocate, one potential option is going to Cheeching, a historical settlement on higher ground between Kipnuk and Chefornak. It’s now owned by Chefornak’s Chefarnmute Corporation.

The corporation’s vice president, Larry Kairauiuak, said Chefornak itself relocated back in the 1950s — and he thinks that’s why it didn’t suffer more damage in the storms.

“If the elders at that time had not decided to move to our current location, we would have been in the same situation as Kipnuk with the typhoon,” he said. “We’re grateful for our leaders at that moment to move to higher ground.”

Kairauiuak said his village is open to a conversation about helping Kipnuk, and the corporation will hold a meeting with shareholders on March 7.

“We have a lot of families from not just Kipnuk but in Kwig, Tuntutuliak, Kong, Nightmute,” he said. “Our community is receptive to hear what they have to say.”

Kairauiuak said residents from many villages in the region have family ties to Cheeching, so that’s why it’s important for Chefornak residents to have a chance to weigh in on the future of that land.

Kipnuk elder David Carl said he remembers growing up Cheeching — his family called it “rock mountain.” It’s about 10 miles from Kipnuk and he supports moving there because he said the ground is more stable.

“They will make a wise decision if they relocate to the site right there,” he said. “Being an elder, we’re not thinking about ourselves, who we are now, we just want to fight for our upcoming generations.”

But for Daniel Paul, Kipnuk is home and he hopes to live there again one day.

“For me, I’m gonna stick with Kipnuk, regardless of how the situation is,” he said. “I was raised there, and I’ll stay there.”

Paul said discussions will continue and residents have a lot of factors to weigh. But Kipnuk leaders also feel a sense of urgency. He said the village expects only one substantial influx of federal funding. To make the best use of it, he said, they need to decide soon whether they want to stay or move.

Editor’s note: KYUK’s Julia Jimmie provided Yup’ik translations for this story.

A national storytelling nonprofit is launching its winter and spring season in Anchorage this week, with Alaska voices helping to kick off a series centered on the idea of the American Dream.

The Moth is an organization that promotes the art of storytelling through education, performance and other efforts. The Moth’s Mainstage show comes to the Atwood Concert Hall in Anchorage on February fourth. The Anchorage performance is presented by the Anchorage Concert Association. The event will feature and features Alaska storytellers Na Mee and Polly Napiq Andrews.

Na Mee is a writer and teaching artist from Juneau. She said being invited to share the stage in her home state feels especially meaningful.

“I just feel honored to be one of the Alaskan storytellers for this particular show,” Na Mee said. “I love that The Moth reaches out to local storytellers, so people from the community are represented on stage, sharing their experiences from their viewpoint as Alaskans.”

While the story Na Mee will tell takes place out of state, she says it is deeply shaped by the Alaska experience.

“The story doesn’t take place in Alaska, but it’s grounded in the fact that we are from Alaska,” she said. “I think it especially speaks to fellow Alaskans and parents who may have taken their kids outside of Alaska, and what that might feel like.”

For Na Mee, storytelling itself is a cultural practice, not just a performance.

“Our family doesn’t really sit around talking about how we feel. At dinner, we tell stories. That’s how we transfer what we know about the world and how we feel about it,” she said.

The show’s director, Michelle Jalowski, says her focus is less on forcing a theme and more on curating voices that naturally resonate.

“When I’m curating a show, I try to put together the most compelling stories that represent a diverse group of voices. Finding local storytellers is always my favorite part, and Alaska has been good to us,” she said.

Anchorage storyteller Polly Napiq Andrews brings a background in trauma healing and cultural storytelling. She says story is central to identity in Indigenous communities.

“Story is one of the centerpiece values of who we are as Indigenous people,” she said. “We share stories to teach the younger generation who we are, where we come from, and how we live in community.”

Andrews said the idea of the American Dream, for her, is rooted in healing.

“The American Dream means healing and living a good life. It’s about breaking cycles of trauma and passing on healthier ways of living to our children, so they can have a better life than we did,” she said.

In Anchorage, those stories will open the season for a national tour, offering audiences a chance to sit together and listen to what dreaming looks like now.

The Moth Mainstage comes to the Atwood Concert Hall for one show, at 7:30 p.m. on Feb. 4, presented by the Anchorage Concert Association.