On the subzero shores of the frozen Chukchi Sea, along Alaska's northwest Arctic coast, the month of February has brought an unusual occurrence to the village of Point Hope: A judge has drifted in to hold court, ready to measure the actions of three Inupiat caribou hunters.
State prosecutors claim the men unjustifiably wasted meat from two caribou during a July 2008 village hunt; the defendants, refusing to take plea deals, maintain they did nothing wrong. The case has pitted defense of traditional hunting practices against the universal enforcement of state hunting laws.
On Tuesday, seated beneath a bingo scoreboard in the village's community center, Alaska Superior Court Judge Richard Erlich refereed the proceedings as the defendants, their attorneys, witnesses and onlookers took seats among the cluster of folding tables throughout the room. A day earlier, Erlich introduced himself to the town via VHF radio, reminding potential jurors they were no longer needed. The state's recent decision to reduce the charges made the need for a jury unnecessary, leaving the judge to be the sole decider of facts and fate.
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Of the eight men originally charged with wanton waste or failing to salvage caribou meat, Aqquilluk Hank, Chester Koonuk and Roy Miller Jr. are the only three to take their cases to trial. Recently, the state downgraded charges against the men from misdemeanor crimes to civil violations.
In the months leading up to this week's trials, the alleged Point Hope caribou slaughter grabbed statewide attention, in part because of initial accusations by Alaska State Troopers claiming 100 or more caribou had been recklessly killed in 2008, their carcasses left to rot. In the end, the state backed off those claims and deals were cut with some of the hunters, raising questions about just how many caribou were killed and who among the hundreds of villagers hunting that summer was responsible for the crimes troopers went to great lengths to document.
By March 2009, the state had charged eight men from two hunting parties in connection with the investigation. One was a group of five young hunters, including one man who took troopers to some of the scenes in question. The other party was a group of three hunters. Troopers have no specific kill sites and no carcasses to connect to the three men. With the smaller group, the only evidence the state has are statements from the hunters themselves.
Throughout the trials Tuesday, family members of some of the hunters and others who took plea deals recently, including Koomalook Stone, strolled into the community center to watch the proceedings. Stone was 17 and a high school senior when troopers came calling about the alleged slaughter. He later escorted investigators as they retraced his hunt and gathered evidence. Like other members of his hunting party who cut deals with the state, Stone will pay a fine and perform community service. His father is glad the ordeal is behind his son, but hopes it won't be forgotten.
"At least they'll learn something from what they did and never do it again, hopefully," Billy Stone Sr. said.
A fight over Native rights
Hank, whose hunting party is on trial this week and who admitted to killing two caribou and leaving them behind, argues aboriginal sovereignty over traditional hunts for fish and game is an inalienable right to Alaska Natives. In a newly filed motion for acquittal, Hank's lawyer, Jon Buchholdt, suggests state hunting regulations are irrational, arbitrary and hostile with respect to Native customs.
This case "is not really about state or federal law, it is about something far more fundamental," Buchholdt wrote in support of Hank's acquittal. "It is about the right to life itself."
The 1971 Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act is largely silent on fish and game regulation, as it is on other aspects of cultural identity and natural rights for Native people. As a result, any ambiguity in state law that affects the rights of Alaska Natives must be resolved in favor of them, Buchholdt argued in his written motion.
Judge Erlich denied Hank's acquittal request, saying Buchholdt's argument didn't apply to Hank's case because state hunting laws apply to all Alaskans.
Koonuk and Miller argued that their clients, who were along on the hunt but did not shoot the animals themselves, are wrongfully included as accomplices to the alleged crime. Robert Lewis, Koonuk's attorney, said charging the men creates a slippery slope of accountability. Under such rationale, Lewis argued, those who pack lunches or fuel vehicles for hunters would also be liable for any meat left behind, a far-fetched and unintended reach of the law.
It's an unusually vigorous fight over what now amounts to a set of civil violations -- basically, the hunting world's equivalent of a traffic ticket. If found guilty, the three men could be required to pay a fine and do community service, but they will not lose their hunting privileges.
Still, the trials unfolding in Point Hope appear to be as much about principle as following the letter of the law. And they also touch on old ways and new rules.
Were the caribou sick?
The hunters claim they left the caribou behind because the animals were diseased or too wounded to salvage -- a traditional practice they were taught by their fathers and elders. Taking the meat home would have put themselves and other villagers at risk, they claim.
State prosecutor Andrew Peterson unsuccessfully urged the judge to not allow this defense. So now the issue of diseased caribou and the likelihood of humans catching a potential illness from the meat will come down to a battle of the experts this week.
The defense will depend on the testimony of a cardiologist who once caught brucellosis in a medical lab. The hunters said they were worried about brucellosis when they chose to leave behind one of the caribou. Alaska has low rates of brucellosis, a highly contagious bacterial disease found in caribou and reindeer, according to the state-issued field guide on wildlife diseases and parasites. The hunters worried bubbles they spotted on the caribou's liver signaled illness, possibly brucellosis.
But a wildlife veterinarian testifying for the state said brucellosis was not likely to cause such bubbles. Instead, the bubbles were likely from a tapeworm called Taenia hydatigena, which doesn't affect the edible meat of the animal or pose risks to humans, testified Dr. Kimberlee Beckman, an expert for the state.
The hunters also said a second animal they left on the tundra had prior wounds and green, foamy contents in its gut. Beckman testified the bubbly stomach fluid is normal during summer based on what caribou are eating at that time of year. While the substance may be smelly and have a foul taste, the juices don't pose any risk to people, Beckman said.
Tips and recorded calls
Earlier Tuesday, the prosecution's first witness, Alaska State Trooper Sgt. Scott Quist, testified about the roots of the investigation. He said troopers were tipped to numerous, unharvested caribou kills in July 2008. While there seems to be no dispute over what troopers found on the tundra outside Point Hope -- photographs and video back up their claims -- defense attorneys argued against allowing Quist to testify about it.
The three hunters on trial weren't charged as a direct result of the unharvested animals troopers found, Buchholdt, Hank's lawyer, told the judge. Quist's "testimony is tarring our clients with something for which they had nothing to do with," he said.
Prosecutors acknowledged none of the animals documented in the initial sweep of the tundra have been connected to Hank or his codefendants. Rather, they learned about Hank's hunt by monitoring a phone call between him and a former Point Hope resident who was living in Anchorage at the time.
That villager -- Godfrey Tuckfield, himself in trouble with the law in an unrelated case -- offered to help investigators find suspects by calling friends in Point Hope and prompting them to talk about the hunt. Tuckfield worked with investigators in the hopes of getting a break with his own criminal woes.
Up close and personal
As the trial unfolds, it's a unique chance for Point Hope residents to see the judicial system in motion. While there is a local police presence in the village, troopers are a less frequent sight, and a judge's visit to hold trial is something that's rarely, if ever, happened. Point Hope Mayor George Kingik recalls a judge traveling to the village for a sentencing years ago, but that's about it. And people who've lived here decades say they don't recall a trial of any kind ever being held in the community.
That's one reason why high school students are among the trial's onlookers this week. It may not be interesting enough to hold every student's attention -- one or two caught catnaps Tuesday -- but teacher Derek Courson thinks it's worth sitting through. As a first-year teacher in the village, he's about as far away from his home state of Florida as a person can get and still be in the United States. On Tuesday, he seemed sympathetic to the hunters.
"If someone told me I had to eat an animal that had green stuff coming out of its stomach, I'd laugh at them," Courson said.
Courson has used the case to encourage his history and government students to think through the mechanics of a case: what's known, what's unknown, and how solid is the evidence each side is using to back up its claims? His students hold mock trials to learn about law and government, but the chance to see a judge, attorneys and expert witnesses in person was too good to pass up.
"I thought it was a great opportunity to see how the American system works," he said.