Covering MMIP requires context and care with the right resources. This page brings together guides, toolkits, narratives, and organizations to help journalists report on this crisis accurately and responsibly.
The issue of MMIP is multifaceted, requiring greater exposure. This is a matter of transparency and awareness. Simply put, if the issue is not covered, how will people know about the issue? To understand MMIP is to also know that this is part of a larger, systemic issue faced by Native and Tribal communities at large. MMIP are not isolated incidents, but part of broader historical and structural conditions in which Native communities continue to be erased.
Journalism exists to inform the public on pressing issues to make informed decisions and hold power accountable. Conventional media inadequately covers MMIP cases., yet this is one of the more urgent accountability journalism opportunities in the country because of the failures at all levels of government. Indigenous journalists hold an uneven weight of reporting on the issues their communities face, but the issues reach an audience that is likely already aware of the issue. This is why non-Indigenous journalists must be part of the greater coalition to generate more attention toward the issue.
For further reading on the importance of covering MMIP, here are more resources:
This section provides insight into what is important to know about the issue, divided into three categories that overlap each other, but provide concise context around why MMIP is complex.
The failure of the Federal Government in upholding trust, jurisdictional complexity, and the erasure of Indigenous peoples in data all stem from the same colonial structures intended to strip Indigenous peoples of their land, their sovereignty, and their visibility in the systems that determine who receives protection and who does not. Reporting on MMIP means that there must be a foundational understanding of how colonization is still impacting how tribal nations operate today. The following sections further explain how these failures manifest.
The federal government has an obligation to uphold the trusts and treaties established since the earliest negotiations with tribal nations. Yet historically, that obligation has been met with chronic underfunding, inadequate resources, and broken promises. That failure does not stay in the past. It shapes the present, and nowhere is that more visible than in the jurisdictional complexity that surrounds MMIP cases.
In Indian Country, criminal authority is divided across tribal, state, and federal governments, and depending on where a crime occurs and who is involved, it is often unclear which has the power to investigate or prosecute. The federal government holds primary authority in many serious cases but has historically prioritized large-scale federal crimes over the everyday violence devastating Indigenous communities. States may have concurrent jurisdiction in some circumstances but rarely have a legal obligation to act, and many have been reluctant to invest resources in tribal areas. Tribal nations, though closest to their communities and most aware of what is happening on the ground, have long faced federal restrictions on their own criminal jurisdiction that limit their ability to fully protect their citizens.
The result is a governance gap where no single government has fully matched its power with its responsibility. Cases are delayed, deprioritized, and dropped. Families are left without answers. MMIP is not only a public safety crisis. It is the predictable outcome of a system built around fragmented authority, uneven enforcement, and longstanding jurisdictional limits that have never been adequately addressed.
Another contributor to the issue of MMIP is the inaccurate and/or missing data collected for Indigenous people. When Indigenous people go missing from the data systems, it seems as though they are completely missing from institutions. This leads to lack of funding, services, and protections that the federal government is obligated to fulfill. Cases go unreported or misreported; homicides are classified as accidents; missing persons are never entered into federal databases; families are left without answers; institutions are left without the information needed to respond. The scale of the crisis remains officially unknown, not because the crisis is small, but because the systems meant to measure it were never designed to see it. Data genocide is not a bureaucratic failure. It is the continuation of a colonial logic that has long sought to render Indigenous peoples invisible in the historical record, in government systems, and in the data infrastructure that determines whose lives are counted and whose deaths are investigated.
Data sovereignty is the countermove to data genocide, which asserts that Indigenous communities have the right to own and steward their data systems. In practice, this looks like:
Community-controlled data collection. Tribal nations decide what data is collected about their communities, who collects it, and how. Rather than having outside agencies extract information, tribes lead their own research using methodologies that reflect Indigenous values and community priorities.
Tribal data governance policies. Many tribal nations have developed their own data governance codes that regulate how information about their citizens can be collected, stored, shared, and used. These policies assert that data about a tribal nation's citizens belongs to that nation, not to federal agencies, academic institutions, or outside researchers.
The CARE Principles. The global Indigenous data sovereignty movement has produced a framework called the CARE Principles: Collective Benefit, Authority to Control, Responsibility, and Ethics. These principles center community benefit and Indigenous authority over data rather than outside institutional interests.
Disaggregated data. One of the most concrete expressions of data sovereignty is the push to separate out Indigenous data rather than lumping Native peoples into broader racial categories. When Native people are aggregated with other groups, their specific conditions become statistically invisible.
Tribal participation in federal database reform. Data sovereignty means tribes having direct input into how federal systems like NCIC and CDC databases collect and classify data involving Indigenous people. Advocates have pushed for tribal nations to shape those systems rather than having them imposed from the outside.
Ownership of research. Historically, outside researchers have studied Indigenous communities, published findings, and moved on without returning data or results to those communities. Data sovereignty requires that research be genuinely collaborative and that tribes retain ownership of the underlying data.
One of the most important and delicate tensions in MMIP reporting involves the question of perpetration. Public discourse has often focused heavily on non-Native perpetrators, particularly in narratives about predatory outsiders targeting Native women near highways, border towns, or extractive industry sites like man camps. That focus is legitimate and well-documented. But it is also incomplete. In the United States, a significant portion of violence against Indigenous people is also carried out by Native perpetrators, and journalists must navigate that reality carefully. Reporting that ignores this dimension can produce an inaccurate picture of the crisis. But reporting that highlights it without context risks deepening harmful stereotypes about Native communities and shifting accountability away from the governmental failures that have allowed violence to persist at every level. The question journalists must ask themselves is not simply who is responsible for individual acts of violence, but how to report on those acts in ways that support prevention and accountability without reducing Indigenous communities to narratives of dysfunction. That requires centering structural context, consulting Indigenous advocates and researchers, and being deliberate about how perpetration is framed in every story.
For more reading and resources on the topics covered, here are more resources:
This section brings together examples of past MMIP coverage for journalists to learn from as they prepare to report on the issue themselves. Rather than offering one single model, these stories demonstrate a range of reporting approaches, from intimate family narratives to community-based coverage, policy reporting, and multimedia storytelling. For journalists with little prior experience covering MMIP, these examples can be helpful not only for understanding the issue more deeply, but also for seeing how strong reporting can humanize victims, highlight community voices, and connect individual cases to the broader structures that shape justice, visibility, and accountability.
An additional point to make about reporting is that there is not one standardized way to approach tribal nations because cultures are heterogenous. This is why when approaching group of Indigenous peoples, it is important to build trust and relationships with tribal communities, demonstrating respectful and best practices for reporting.
Stories such as “MMIW: Ruby Sky Montelongo” and “MMIW: Lively Crüe Colindres” by Brooklyn Brown in The Cherokee One Feather, “Family of Missing Navajo Woman Seeks Answers Alongside Families of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women” by Jonathan Sims in The Paper., and “Family of Murdered Oglala Lakota Woman Host Memorial to Honor Memory” by Darren Thompson in Native Sun News Today show how MMIP reporting can center the person, the family, and the ongoing emotional reality around the case. Brown’s articles are especially instructive because they treat each victim as a person with relatives, memory, and community presence, rather than as a statistic alone. Sims likewise ties one family’s search for Pepita Redhair to the broader structural problem of missing-data systems, while Thompson’s memorial story shows how remembrance itself can become a newsworthy act of witness. For newer reporters, the takeaway is that family-centered MMIP coverage works best when it restores individuality, lets relatives speak for themselves, and shows that the story continues long after the initial disappearance or death.
Another useful category is reporting that follows community action rather than a single case. “Too long without answers: Shining a light on Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, Two-Spirit and Transgender People” by Chelsea Curtis introduces an Indigenous-led reporting project built around listening, public engagement, and a database of incidents. “Indigenous Woman Walks Across Country In Search of MMIW Data and Answers” by Jonathan Sims follows Seraphine Warren’s walk for Ella Mae Begay and makes clear that activists often want journalists to report the deeper causes, not just the spectacle of an event. “NATIVE HOPE CHAMPIONS: Riding for the Missing” by Jessica Greenwell and the related “Native Hope Champions: Riding for the Missing” video from FNX TV show how rodeo participants use their public platform to raise awareness. “Thousands of Minnesotans March for Missing and Murdered Indigenous People, State Officials Unveil License Plate Supporting Cause” by Darren Thompson documents public gatherings, family testimony, and symbolic acts of solidarity. Together, these pieces teach journalists that MMIP coverage can grow from marches, vigils, art, sports, or journeys for justice, and that these stories are strongest when they connect visible action to the deeper history and demands behind it.
MMIP coverage also includes stories that may not look like “MMIP stories” at first glance, but are essential because they track the institutions, officials, and policy debates that shape whether justice is possible. “Lawmakers want attorney general to create new task force on missing and murdered Indigenous people” by Bella Davis is a clear example of policy reporting that explains institutional response and highlights jurisdictional coordination as a recurring barrier. “Controversial Indian Affairs secretary leaving agency” by Bella Davis shows how leadership changes in tribal affairs matter to Indigenous communities, including those affected by MMIP. “Tohono O’odham community organizer could be Pima County’s first Indigenous supervisor” by Chelsea Curtis is useful because it follows April Ignacio not only as a political figure but as someone already active in MMIP justice work. For journalists new to the beat, the main lesson is that strong MMIP reporting should not stop with individual tragedy; it should also follow the power structures, offices, and policy decisions that affect prevention, investigations, and support for families.
Long-form and audio storytelling can help journalists see how MMIP-related reporting gains power through pacing, context, and sustained listening. “A Tale of Two Metlakatlas: My Matriarchs, the Missionaries and Me” by Pamela Post, aired on CBC Ideas, traces Ts’msyen family history and links intimate family storytelling to the longer arc of colonial harm and healing. The podcast episodes “Tóɫikan” and “Trailing Ella Mae” from Connie Walker’s Stolen show what serialized investigative audio can do: build trust with relatives, follow unanswered questions over time, and place individual disappearances within the larger realities of policing and life on the Navajo Nation. These works are especially valuable models for journalists because they do not rush. They demonstrate that MMIP reporting can be more revealing when it allows space for history, ambiguity, family memory, and systemic analysis to unfold together.
The resources in this section were primarily created to support victims, families, and communities responding to disappearances and violence. They are not journalism guides, but they can still be highly valuable for reporters covering MMIP. By showing what families are told to do, what systems they must navigate, and what kinds of support or information they often need, these materials can help journalists better understand the realities families face after a loved one goes missing. They can also point reporters toward institutions, databases, and public resources that may help identify possible story angles, reveal gaps in response systems, and deepen reporting on how families search for answers.
When a Loved One Goes Missing: Resources for Families of Missing American Indian and Alaska Native Adults from Operation Lady Justice is a practical guide for families searching for a missing adult loved one. It explains steps families can take during the search, offers guidance for coping with trauma, and gathers relevant support resources in one place. For journalists, this guide is useful because it helps illuminate the emotional and logistical burden families carry from the very beginning. It can help reporters understand that a disappearance is not just a case file, but an ongoing crisis involving fear, uncertainty, paperwork, outreach, and grief. That perspective can lead to more informed and compassionate coverage.
MMIW Toolkit for Families and Communities from the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center outlines what families and communities can do when a Native woman goes missing. Because it is designed around urgent action, it gives journalists a clearer sense of the practical steps families may be trying to take while also navigating distress and limited institutional support. For reporters, this resource can be especially useful in showing how families often become organizers, advocates, and investigators themselves. It may also help journalists identify gaps between what families are advised to do and what public systems actually make possible.
The Indian Health Service Find Health Care locator from the Indian Health Service is a searchable tool for finding IHS hospitals, behavioral health centers, and clinics. Families may use it to check whether a missing loved one has been seen at a facility, while also confronting privacy limits on what can be shared. For journalists, this resource is less about narrative guidance and more about understanding one part of the search process. It reveals that families may need to contact multiple institutions simply to rule out possibilities. That can help reporters better appreciate the complexity of the search and the role healthcare systems may play in missing persons cases.
The National Missing and Unidentified Persons System (NamUs) is a national clearinghouse and resource center for missing and unidentified persons cases. It allows families to enter and search case information and connects them with criminal justice professionals who may assist in the search. For journalists, NamUs can be useful in two ways. First, it helps explain one of the major systems families may rely on when they are trying to find a loved one. Second, it can serve as a reporting resource for understanding patterns, locating case information, and seeing how visibility and documentation work in practice. It can also help reporters better grasp how much responsibility often falls on families themselves to make sure a case is entered and remains visible.
The FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program (ViCAP) tracks violent crime data, including information about missing persons and unidentified people. Although it is a law enforcement tool rather than a family guide, it is relevant because it reflects one of the institutional systems families may encounter in serious or unresolved cases. For journalists, ViCAP can be useful as a reminder that missing persons reporting is tied to larger investigative structures and data systems. It may also help reporters think more carefully about how cases move, or fail to move, through federal channels and how data-sharing can shape outcomes.
The List of State Medical Examiners and Coroners Organizations Throughout the United States from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention provides contact information for medical examiner and coroner systems across the country. For families, this type of information may become relevant when they are trying to locate information about unidentified remains or navigate a death investigation. For journalists, this resource can be useful because it highlights another institutional layer that may matter in MMIP reporting, especially in stories involving delays in identification, communication breakdowns, or the handling of remains. It can also help reporters understand how many agencies and systems families may be forced to navigate while seeking answers.
Below is a practical introduction to cultural awareness for people working with American Indian and Alaska Native communities. It explains important background on tribal diversity, cultural customs, communication styles, historical distrust, and respectful etiquette, while emphasizing that no single experience or identity can represent all Native communities. For non-Indigenous journalists covering MMIP, this guide is especially valuable because it provides practical guidance for approaching Indigenous communities with greater humility, context, and care. It can help reporters avoid stereotypes, understand why trust may take time to build, and carry out interviews in ways that are more respectful of community norms, trauma, and tribal sovereignty.