These are horrifying yet common occurrences here in the 200-person village of Nunam Iqua, Alaska, which means "End of the Land" in the Yupik Eskimo language.
This educational series, produced by OVC and the Office on Violence Against Women, is designed for federal, state, local, and tribal victim service providers, criminal justice professionals, and others who work with Alaska Native victims of domestic violence, sexual assault, and human trafficking.
The videos in this series— This video provides an overview of the multiple challenges victims face when pursuing safety and justice in Alaska, including geographic, climate, and jurisdictional realities.
The village, where children walk across a frozen lake to school and where a few families still empty "honey buckets" of their waste into the dump, because they don't have running water or sewage, is not connected to the outside world by road, meaning that it's impossible to reach the village much of the year by land.
Alaska State Troopers, who are stationed in Bethel, more than 150 miles away, and Emmonak, 20 miles away, must travel by plane, snowmobile or boat. In October 2005, for example, a 13-year-old girl in Nunam Iqua was raped "on a bed with an infant crying beside her and her 5-year-old brother and 7-year-old cousin watching" during the more than four hours it took troopers to arrive by air from Bethel, according to an Amnesty International Report titled "Maze of Injustice." "After raping the girl, the man fired a shotgun, reportedly missing her by inches," the report says.
It's so remote that pilots call the land between the village and the regional hub "The Twilight Zone." Snowy tundra is pocked with frozen, amoeba-shaped lakes and jagged, twisting rivers.
From the air, it looks like a cell under a microscope.
"By the time troopers arrive there has been a little bit of a delay, and the Village Public Safety Officer is able to capture things more as they happened," he told me.
They also "act as a liaison between the victim and the criminal justice system," he said, making it more likely victims will press charges.
Adams, the mayor with the bullet lodged behind his ear, is the first call for many.
The 72-year-old is essentially a one-man dynasty in Nunam Iqua: He's been mayor of the village since 1979 and president of the local tribal council since 1992.
The mayor isn't as young as he used to be, though, so he increasingly relies on his 24-year-old son, Edward Adams Jr., to help police the town, unarmed. "Some people do get trigger-happy, and I have to stay up and protect my family," said Andy Stern, 35.