For Qualla Boundary advocates, domestic violence and MMIW/P are intertwined
Maggie Jackson doesn’t plan to stop spreading awareness about domestic violence in her community come November. Instead, the Qualla Boundary Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women’s group co-chair knows it to be a timeless issue.
Jackson also views — hence her title — the crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous People and the crisis of domestic violence as inherently intertwined.
“Many who fall victim to the MMIP crisis were first silenced by violence in their own homes,” Jackson, a member of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, told the audience at an Oct. 22 EBCI event to support domestic violence survivors.
The MMIW/P crisis is defined by the National Council of Urban Indian Health as “the disproportionate amount of violence and abuse that occurs to Indigenous people in the United States.”
For example, the Assembly of First Nations states that Indigenous women are four times more likely to experience violence than their non-Indigenous counterparts.
The MMIW/P crisis is especially relevant in the Qualla Boundary given a few recent cases: the alleged sex crimes of ex-Swain County Sheriff Curtis Cochran and the murders of tribal members Tina Walkingstick Frizsell, Marie Walkingstick Pheasant, Lively Crüe Colindres and Carly Johnson.
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Jackson and fellow advocates are continuing to sound the alarm about a problem poorly represented, underpublicized and misunderstood.
EBCI citizens Sheyahshe Littledave and Ahli-sha “Osh” Stephens are co-hosts of the true crime “We are Resilient” podcast about MMIW/P cases nationwide, but despite connotations of the “true crime” label, Littledave and Stephens are careful not to let someone’s death or disappearance overshadow their personhood.
“We really try to fill the rest of [the podcast] in with what we can find out about [the missing/murdered person’s] hopes, their dreams, hobbies, things that they’re into, so we can really humanize who we’re talking about,” Littledave noted.
Stephens said it’s necessary to keep in mind that “when we lose someone’s indigenous relative, we lose everything that they’ve learned … our language, our culture, our medicines, our songs and our dances.”
WAR’s episode on EBCI member Tina Walkingstick Frizsell shares the circumstances surrounding her death in May 2022 — a man named Christopher Shields shot Frizsell dead just shy of her 43rd birthday, then enlisted accomplices to move and burn her body — while also highlighting testimonials from friends and loved ones. Walkingstick Frizsell was a mother of two. She loved nature. Everyone remembered her beautiful smile.
But while WAR was intentional in how Walkingstick Frizsell’s case was covered, Jackson told The Smoky Mountain News — which reporter on the murder after it happened — that few are covering it at all, even as it continues to move through the courts system.
Maggie Jackson speaks during the Oct. 22 event. Lily Levin photo
“Her case is horrific, and her case is complex, and her case should be making national headlines because of what’s happening, but it’s not, and most people have already forgotten about it,” Jackson said.
She noted that art also plays a large role in spreading awareness about the movement.
Last month, Corbin Lee Nunez, 25, was sentenced to over 30 years in prison after pleading guilty to second degree murder and felony child abuse of his eight-month-old daughter, Lively Crüe Colindres.
Co-chair Atsei Cooper, a graphic artist, commemorated Colindres in the most recent QB MMIW logo, which Jackson said was “updated to be more inclusive of all Indigenous people, instead of just women.”
The new logo is “burgundy and has a woman, a man and a child. And actually, the child in this image is our youngest enrolled member who is on the MMIP list, who was murdered by her father,” Jackson said.
Affecting everyone
Sept. 23, 2025, is the date of EBCI’s most recent MMIW/P victim. Just last month, enrolled member Carly Elizabeth Johnson was assaulted and murdered by her partner Kenneth Lontrell Christian in Christian’s car.
Johnson, 50, was a mother and grandmother. Her obituary states that she was a “talented cook” with “quick wit” and “a warm sense of humor.”
Because of the ongoing nature of this violence, it’s natural for advocates to fear for their loved ones — and themselves.
In fact, the problem hits closer to home than one might expect.
“All of [the QB MMIW co-chairs] have members of our, either distant members of our family or loved ones on who have been directly affected by MMIP,” Jackson said.
Jackson herself is a survivor of domestic violence. So is EBCI Public Health and Human Services domestic violence program manager Billy Jo Rich and tribal council member Shannon Swimmer.
Both Rich and Swimmer believe that, as with raising awareness about MMIW/P, their experiences have been deeply influenced by storytelling.
Shannon Swimmer shares her story. Lily Levin photo
Rich was silent for 20 years before she could talk about what had happened. She said she thought she was okay because she wasn’t ruminating about her trauma.
“And then when an opportunity came unexpectedly to talk about my experiences, it was like a volcano coming out. And I realized that I was not okay,” she recounted.
At first, every time Rich told her story, she felt like she was reliving it.
“I learned, quite by accident, that the more I told my story through the years, it started to get a little bit easier,” she said.
“And so I realized, I think, about two years ago that when I told my story, I could tell it just like we’re talking right now. And I realized that the emotions weren’t attached, and that’s when I knew that I was healed,” Rich added.
For Swimmer, speaking openly helped dissipate the shame surrounding her past.
“I saw how important it was for my own healing and for me to feel comfortable speaking about my experiences … It’s not something to be ashamed of, I didn’t do anything wrong. And I think that’s what a lot of people have never been told, ‘It’s not your fault. You didn’t deserve this,’” she explained.
When so many in the community are survivors, empowerment becomes less about the individual and more about the collective. The same goes for the attitude toward abusers — advocates would rather attack an enabling system than a single person.
Jackson said the latter sentiment underlies every Cochran court date protest.
The former Swain County sheriff is facing charges of rape and sexual assault from Swain County and the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, which has jurisdiction over sex crimes due to a 2022 VAWA amendment.
“The protests that we are facilitating and showing up for is not just against one man. It’s really just a show of solidarity that we will not tolerate any sort of violence in our community, against our people, and that no one is above accountability,” Jackson told SMN.
Systems of violence
While studies have found that the majority of those who victimize Indigenous people are non-Native, the sheer prevalence of domestic violence in Indigenous communities begs the question: why?
According to Jackson, it’s got to do with colonialism — and how its legacy is still visible today. She highlighted the longstanding impacts of issues like assimilation, boarding schools and government neglect.
“I mean, Indigenous women were forcibly sterilized,” she explained. The practice continued until the 1970s.
“If people do not see Indigenous people as worthy of importance or value, then it’s easier to commit acts of violence,” Jackson added.
When violence does occur, like in other communities, it often goes unreported to law enforcement. But Jackson said that among Indigenous people, there’s an added dimension: deep-rooted distrust.
“We are pretty fortunate that our local Cherokee Indian Police Department is very supportive and very honoring of the work that we do. But the law enforcement officers in many Indigenous communities are often shielded from any sort of accountability, especially when the justice system is just not built for people of color,” the QB MMIW co-chair said.
The disconnect between tribal members and law enforcement in other communities manifests in how deaths are classified — and the lengths to which relatives will go to ensure a foolproof investigation.
“In a lot of cases out west … if the death was undetermined, [families] will actually try to hire an independent medical examiner to perform a second autopsy. So that’s part of what a lot of families have to resort to do to get justice for their loved ones,” she explained.
However, for EBCI members in particular, a major deterrent to justice isn’t law enforcement. The problem lies in the courts system.
Marie Walkingstick Pheasant was killed at her home by her estranged husband. He then moved her body into a car and set the vehicle ablaze. Pheasant was a mother of two whom her aunt described as “quiet, sweet, and loving.”
“Marie’s case … highlights exactly what’s wrong with the justice system and how Indigenous cases are handled. Even though there was evidence that her significant other harmed her and was the one that committed this crime against her, the district attorney’s office would not prosecute this crime until there was a confession,” Jackson said.
The murder occurred in 2013. Perpetrator Ernest Pheasant was not sentenced until April 2025.
While Ernest was an enrolled member of EBCI, abusers often aren’t. The 2022 amendment of VAWA gives EBCI jurisdiction to prosecute outsiders like Cochran charged with certain crimes on the Qualla Boundary, but the 1978 Supreme Court decision in Oliphant vs. Squamish Indian Tribe stripped tribes of prosecutorial authority in all other instances lacking congressional authorization.
“I am glad that [the Cochran case is] before the court properly, that we have that jurisdiction. I still believe that we need to have strengthened jurisdiction, or restored jurisdiction, because it is really carved out of what we can and can’t prosecute when people come here that are not enrolled and commit crimes against enrolled members,” said tribal council member Shannon Swimmer.
What safety looks like
Shenelle Feather ran for tribal council to improve quality of life for Yellow Hill residents. Now elected, Feather said she plans to implement measures to make the district safer, like lights or speed bumps.
“It could be making it a better place to feel like we can do recreational things, like run, just basic things that would help families and just anyone that lives here, to uplift their lives and help them to feel safe in their community,” she said.
It might also look like “resurrecting a shelter” or advocating for VAWA, added Feather.
To Jackson, increased community safety might come in the form of awareness.
“We have to stand together to raise awareness and to show that we won’t tolerate [acts of violence],” she said.
Domestic violence program manager Rich said once folks in the community are already aware, it’s time to take the advocacy one step further.
“Hope needs to turn into action. We need to be able to provide services and resources and support,” she said, adding that the program offers emergency shelter and is working to create a long-term housing program catered to those who cannot afford to leave their abuser.
PHHS domestic violence program support also includes victim advocacy, legal assistance, court accompaniment, transportation assistance, relocation services, crisis counseling, prevention education and outreach activities.
What’s more, Swimmer described the importance of confronting trauma and shame at the interpersonal level.
“We’re all in recovery from something. Everybody’s experienced some type of trauma, and we really need to share that and talk about that and how important it is to address our mental health,” she said. “And it’s a daily thing. I still have my affirmations.”
