Poem: "To Prevent Future Tragedies"

This poem is spillover from the July 7, 2020 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from librarygeek, chanter1944, and siliconshaman. It also fills the "Deer" square in my 7-1-20 card for the Winterfest in July Bingo. This poem was sponsored by a pool with ng_moonmoth. It belongs to the Iron Horses thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.

Warning: This poem includes intense and controversial topics. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It features the aftermath of human trafficking, discussions with police, difficulty speaking, missing and murdered Indian women, reference to Warshirt's nightmares and drinking problem, negotiation over jurisdiction, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.


"To Prevent Future Tragedies"

[Wednesday, September 2, 2015]

Warshirt had spent yesterday
talking to various police and
tribe members about the mess
over at Merry Acres Ranch.

He had shielded Spotted Deer
from as much of that as he could,
though she had reluctantly talked to
Lin Growing Thunder of the tribal police
and even more reluctantly allowed
a nurse to take a look at her.

In the interest of Spotted Deer
being able to squeak out more
than a few words, the police had
agreed to hold today's meeting in
Warshirt's living room instead of
at the local police station.

Warshirt also brought out
his tablet computer with
an educational game that
used Native American symbols.

It had both a symbol chat function
and a keyboard on the touchscreen,
in case Spotted Deer found that
easier to use than speech.

A firm knock at the door
brought Warshirt to open it.

"Welcome to my home,"
he said. "I'm Warshirt,
and this is Spotted Deer.
Her white name was Fina,
but that person is dead now."

"Understood," Lin said,
stepping in to make way
for two other people.

A sturdy man followed.
"I'm Scott Williamson from
the Montana troopers," he said.

"I'm Justine Hubbard with the FBI.
I specialize in human trafficking,"
said the smaller woman. "You
might also like to know that I have
a few Illini ancestors from when
the government moved people
from reservations to cities."

"It helps," Lin said, nodding.

They all moved to the living room,
where Warshirt rejoined Spotted deer
on one of the leather couches. Lin
took a seat in the glide rocker and left
the other couch for the newcomers.

"They'll help?" Spotted Deer whispered,
plastering herself against Warshirt's side.

"That's their job," he assured her.
"Today we're going to talk about ideas
for that, and if you can tell them anything
more about what happened to you, that
might make it easier. Then the people
in charge will decide exactly what to do."

Spotted Deer managed to garble out
a story of what had happened to her,
from her stepfather selling her to
human traffickers, to winding up in
a mad science lab, to the johns
using her at Merry Acres Ranch.

When her voice gave out, Warshirt
reminded her she'd saved the other girls.

"All right, you know that we rescued
two more victims from Merry Acres Ranch
yesterday afternoon," said Lin. "What you
may not have heard is that we identified
one of them as Bonnie Ollinger, who
came from this very reservation."

Warshirt's hands clenched,
furious at the idea that she had
been so close all this time.

Her whole family had combed
the woods looking for her when she
disappeared just a few years ago.

If he'd known, he could've
picked up a handy rock and
crushed the bastard's skull.

Then again, someone might
use him to find further victims.

"She's brown and furry, and
her face --" Spotted Deer waved
at her own nose. "They called
her Hump Cow, or Fat Cow."

"She has some buffalo features,"
Lin explained. "Muzzle, ears, tail,
and her feet end in big hooves."

"Perhaps Brown Cow," said Warshirt.
"She is a holy person now. She
needs a good strong name."

"As you see, this ties into
the widespread problem
of missing and murdered
Indian women," said Lin. "I
want to see it logged as such."

"Of course," said Justine. "We
know that this kind of violence against
indigenous women and girls will not stop
on its own. Individuals, governments, and
other organizations must work together
to prevent future tragedies from happening."

"This is an important opportunity for us
to explore solutions and reach out to
women and girls to ensure their safety,"
Lin said. "It's not about Bonnie alone."

"The federal government would like
to assure you that we take these crimes
very seriously," Justine said. "Is there
anything that we could do to help
your community cope with this?"

"We would like your help in
searching for other victims and,
if they belong to us or another tribe,
assist them in reaching us so we
can provide support," Lin said.

"We can do that," Justine said.
"The FBI has plentiful resources
for locating people and moving
them where they can get help."

"Would the victims be safe here?"
Scott said, looking at Warshirt.
"Seems I've seen a few drunks
and hooligans come out of
this reservation before."

Warshirt stared back at him,
but couldn't recall meeting
the officer before. That didn't
mean he hadn't, though.

Warshirt's memories of
his bad days tended to be
clouded by too much beer.

"Yes, we have those too ...
but it seems that a majority
of offenses against our women
are perpetrated by outsiders,"
Warshirt said evenly.

This was also true, and
the state wasn't always eager
to do a damn thing about it.

Sometimes, the police were
even part of the problem.

That was one of many reasons
why the First Nations not only had
their own police departments but
also tribal warriors backed by
culture rather than just law.

"Guess I can't argue with that,"
Scott muttered, looking away.
"It's just a hassle, is all."

"Borders and jurisdictions
complicate many things,"
Justine said. "We're here
in hopes of working out
a mutual agreement."

"We're interested in that,"
Lin said. "The elders have
discussed options already."

"Due to the number of primal soups --
that is, people with totem medicine
strong enough to show physical gifts --
we believe this case may connect with
another from Missouri," said Justine.
"That complicates the matter further."

"That mad science lab?" Warshirt said.
"I came across that when I looked up
stuff about people with animal powers."

It had been worse than what he'd
seen back in service, and that had
been bad enough to leave him with
nightmares and a drinking problem.

Spotted Deer whimpered and
burrowed into his side, seeking
what comfort he could give her.

Warshirt lifted his arm and
let her snuggle as much
as she wanted to.

Lin sat up and looked
around the living room.

Warshirt reached out and
tapped the storage ottoman
with the toe of his boot.

Lin lifted the top and
then fished out an afghan
crocheted in cream cotton
with touches of brown,
turquoise, and burgundy.

Warshirt took it from her
and wrapped the afghan
around Spotted Deer.

The girl's fingers traced
the raised arrows worked
into the top of the afghan,
then the arrow symbol
on the touchscreen.

"Arrows of protection,"
Warshirt said. "That's right.
You're safe. I'll protect you."

If any mad scientists came calling,
he wouldn't bother counting coup. He'd
just shoot them and be done with it.

"Having caught the suspect red-handed
in human trafficking, there's little question
of guilt. Due to superpower involvement,
the case will be expedited," Justine said.

"That's good to hear," Warshirt said.

"However, we have a three-way claim:
tribal, state, and federal," Justine said.
"Osborne Colter was apprehended on
Blackfeet land, but Merry Acres Ranch is
in Montana. We know at least one victim,
Christa Ridding, crossed state lines."

"Montana doesn't really want it," Scott said.
"There's too much outside action, and
the FBI has better resources anyhow."

Certainly better than the tribal police,
and a federal court had more power too,
Warshirt mused. He looked over at Lin.

"The Blackfeet Nation would be willing
to waive our claim on the offender in
exchange for his land," Lin proposed.
"We offer to take in his victims, up to
a total of twelve, the number that land
could currently support without strain."

"It's a big ranch," Scott said slowly.
"What, about three hundred acres?"

"Three hundred sixty," Warshirt said.
"That's enough to support a herd of buffalo,
perhaps an elk or two, several herds of deer,
flocks of ducks and geese, plus fish in
the ponds and the streams. The forest
could yield enough firewood for six houses."

Spotted Deer leaned forward and tapped
the deer track icon. Plentiful game.

"That's right, Merry Acres is registered
as a hunting camp," Scott said. "It's
known for producing a lot of results."

"So I've heard," Warshirt said. "However,
there's no cropland or garden, and we
don't know what shape the land is in.
So we don't want to push things too far."

"What about grazing rights?" Scott said.
"A lot of places around here lease
what they don't need to other farmers."

"They could finish out this season,
since it's almost done, if the case clears
that fast," Warshirt said. "Beyond that,
we want the grass to run buffalo, and
cattle ranchers don't like that much."

"Still seems like a lot of room," Scott said.
"You sure you got the right numbers?"

"As sure as we can be without knowing
more about the land and its uses," Lin said.
"We're talking about its carrying capacity
now, not in the distant future. It has
to cover what the victims need, whether
taken directly from the land or shared
among the tribe to balance whatever
we give people from elsewhere."

"What resources do you have to offer
the victims?" Justine asked her.

"We have housing in various places,
so they'd never need to see Merry Acres
again," said Lin. "Heart Butte Health Station
is a full-size hospital, although it's not fancy.
Browning has both the Blackfeet Food Bank
and a soup kitchen in the Medicine Bear Shelter.
We can meet the victims' basic needs here."

"We have outside contacts too," Warshirt said.
"We don't have a psychiatrist here, but they
do over at Rocky Boy's Reservation. Also
my friend Many Tongues offered to talk with
anyone wanting help for a new disability --
he came back from the army in a wheelchair."

"What if they need more than you have?"
Justine said. "The damage may be extensive."

"Then we would ask that the federal or
state government cover those needs
from their greater resources," Lin said.

"That's fair," Scott said. "Montana's
got some good hospitals that I know from
highway patrol. The best one is probably
St. Patrick in Missoula -- they just added
a teleport pad -- but Billings has a couple
of high-quality hospitals. The state has
a traveling counselor program too."

"Billings may be out of the way, but
Missoula's not too far," Warshirt said.

"The federal government also provides
crisis teams in areas where an incident
causes community stress," said Justine.
"We can send EFA if people need it."

Warshirt and Lin looked at each other.

After experiences with government aid,
many of his people wouldn't touch it.

"We'll ask around, and maybe
our clinics will want to send out
a survey," Lin said diplomatically.
"I'll let you know if there's interest."

"What about the range of victims,
especially if we find more than twelve?"
said Justine. "So far, two of them
are white and one Blackfeet."

"Our first responsibility is to women
from our own tribe or other tribes,
and to those the spirits have chosen,"
Warshirt said. "We have decided
to include the other victims because
this happened on our border and
crossed into tribal territory."

"Including women who are
tribeless or have native heritage
but not enough to qualify for
membership?" Justine said.

"Yes," Warshirt said. "Our tribe
uses a point system, not just
ancestry. The victims will be
welcome to earn points and
join our people if they wish."

"Thus far, the ... donor species
seem local to North America,
although there may be overlap
with domestics too," said Justine.
"That may or may not stay true."

"We will cope," Warshirt said.

"I heard from the elders today,"
Lin added. "They have declared
no hunting of deer, buffalo, or bobcats
for the next moon. The spirits will need
time to focus their attention on the girls
we have rescued and on the men who
hurt them, not be distracted by hunting."

Warshirt nodded. "That is a good plan,"
he said. "I will help spread the word."

"One moon, and after that someone
will smoke for a vision to see whether
or not the taboo can be lifted," Lin said.

Then Warshirt turned to Spotted Deer.
"Can you talk yet? Tell us more about
any other victims at Merry Acres?"

Spotted Deer peeled herself away
from him, but when she tried to talk,
she only managed a faint squeak.

Instead she used the touchscreen.
She tapped the lasso for captivity, then
the horse, bear, and bird symbols.

Her fingers hovered over the screen,
but she frowned without touching it.

"Something missing?" Warshirt said.
"Do you need more animal types?"

Spotted Deer nodded, pushing
the tablet computer at him.

Warshirt brought up a game
for identifying different animals,
then passed the tablet back.

Spotted Deer pointed out
wolf and rabbit, then huddled
under Warshirt's arm again.

"You're the most affected by this,"
Justine said to her. "Do you
feel like it's fair to make it
a federal trial, rather than
state or Blackfeet?"

Spotted Deer shrugged,
then nodded in reply.

"That looks like you don't
know much about it or you
don't have a strong opinion,
but you're okay with what
we suggest," Warshirt said.

She gave a firmer nod.

"All right, then how do you
feel about staying here on
the reservation?" Justine said.
"Do you think the other girls
would appreciate that option?"

Spotted Deer nodded again.
She went back to the first screen,
touching the animal symbols for
herself and the other victims.

Then she added the tipis for
an Indian village, the hogan
for a permanent home, and last
the sky band leading to happiness.

"That's pretty clear," Warshirt said.
"I'm glad you want to stay here."

"Do you think these people will
treat you fairly, even though you
come from a different background?"
Justine asked Spotted Deer.

The girl hovered over the icons.
Then she tapped the brothers
standing for unity and equality.

"What about safety?" Justine said.
"That's one area where the FBI
could offer more protection if
anyone tries to bother you again."

Spotted Deer shook her head.
One hand clutched the afghan
while the other touched
the facing arrows for
warding off evil spirits.

"Whatever it takes,"
Warshirt said firmly,
hugging her close.

He'd kill anyone who
tried to hurt her again.

"All right, we have enough
to write up a proposal,"
Justine said. "Thank you
all for helping today."

"Do you think this'll work?"
Warshirt said. "Will the bosses
accept the plan we made?"

"I think so," Justine said.
"The FBI gets to be in charge,
Montana gets to wash its hands
of a messy case, and your people
get a nice patch of land. There's
no question of guilt, so the trial
is just a formality, and better that
we're not fighting among ourselves."

"Thank the spirits for that," Warshirt said
as he leaned back into the couch.

He felt wrung out, and Spotted Deer
probably felt even worse. They were
awfully young to get caught up in
matters of so much importance.

"Hopefully this process will help
to prevent future tragedies," Lin said.

"I hope so too," Scott said, and
Warshirt even believed him. For
a white cop, he seemed decent.

The meeting soon broke up, and
Warshirt dragged himself to
the door to let people out.

Then he flopped back onto
the couch with Spotted Deer.

Smiling, she lifted the afghan
to wrap it around both of them.

They made an odd pair, but
he liked her, and she clung
to him like a life preserver.

Warshirt turned on the viewscreen
that he rarely used, flipping channels
until he found a nature program
about the ecology of a river.

It was pretty and peaceful,
just what they needed
to soothe rattled nerves.

Snuggling into Spotted Deer,
Warshirt let the sound of
running water and birdsong
carry him down into a doze.

* * *

Notes:

This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear elsewhere.