858: How to Tell a Dumb American Story
01:06:58 Share

This message comes from Capital One. Banking with Capital One helps you keep more money in your wallet with no fees or minimums on checking accounts. What's in your wallet? Terms apply. See CapitalOne.com slash bank for details. Capital One N.A., member FDIC.

This message comes from NPR sponsor FX, presenting Dying for Sex, a new series starring Michelle Williams, Jenny Slate, Rob Delaney, Jay Duplass, and Sissy Spacek. FX's Dying for Sex, all episodes now streaming on Hulu. A quick warning, there are curse words that are unbeaped in today's episode of the show. If you prefer a beeped version, you can find that at our website, thisamericanlife.org. Sarah Crane Murdoch's been on our show before.

She reports on indigenous communities out west. Back in 2023, she got a call from a man in Montana, Kevin Howard. He said his daughter, Micah, had been killed in a hit-and-run. Local police were dragging their feet. He thought the driver might get away with it. The driver was white. Micah was Native, a citizen of the Blackfeet Nation. Lots of Native people are killed in hit-and-runs. And the drivers are rarely brought to justice. And Sierra thought she might be able to document why

by diving into Micah's case, because Micah's parents had recordings of nearly all their interactions with law enforcement. Micah's parents did some other things, too. They were very strategic and did some extraordinary things other families had not tried to make sure Micah's case was one that the authorities could not ignore. That story and how it unfolded and what it's like to be a couple making that happen, that's going to be our whole show today. From WBEZ Chicago, This is American Life. I'm Ira Glass. And with that...

I hand it over to Sierra. Micah's family lives on the Flathead Indian Reservation. It's in a valley surrounded by big, toothy mountains. Micah was 22 years old the night she was killed. She'd been out with her younger brother. They'd gone to a bar to buy cigarettes. On their way home, Micah couldn't find her phone and thought she'd left it at the bar. She told her brother to let her out of the car. She'd go back to the bar to get it, and then she'd walk home.

Hours later, around 4 a.m., a tribal police officer found her body on the side of the road, Highway 93. The officer, a friend of Kevin's, drove to his house and woke him up.

You know, they told us my kid was deceased. And then right away I was like, well, did you guys get him? And they were like, yeah, it was some tweaker from Butte. And in my mind, I was like, just like happy that they apprehend, you know. So and I just, you know, I gave the cops a hug and I was like, thank you guys or whatever. You know, I'm glad that you guys were there.

Later that day, Kevin and his wife, Carissa Heavy Runner, Micah's mother, took a cross and a teddy bear to the roadside where she'd been found. When they got there, investigators from Montana Highway Patrol were flying a drone, photographing the scene. One of them was named Wayne Bieber. He asked Kevin and Carissa if they had Micah's phone. It had actually been in her brother's car that night, slipped between her seat and the console. Bieber said he needed it.

Carissa couldn't understand why. He was adamant about following us home to get it, and, you know, I repeated, she did not have her phone on her. It was in her brother's car. Why do you need it? What's it going to, you know, show or whatever? And then he said, we need to look at all aspects. I was torn. I fought with myself, and I thought I was helping. And so, yeah.

I gave him the phone up here at our house. When you're handing it to him, I was like, oh, my kid's just freaking just pissed off right now. Like she would not like this at all. And I like said that out loud. Shouldn't have done it, but in a joking manner, I guess.

But I really did feel that way. Like, Micah was like, no, no, don't give it to them. Yeah, well, you tell me more about that. Like, if you knew Micah, probably the most stubborn person I know. Like, she would just fight tooth and nail over the dumbest thing to the bitter end. Micah was constantly challenging her parents, but not in a get-in-trouble kind of way. They were close.

Back when she was a teenager, when she realized marijuana eased her anxiety, instead of lying to them, she crafted a PowerPoint presentation about its medical benefits. She wrote poetry. She was really into philosophy, especially the Tao. Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself was the title of the book she was reading when she died.

Also, she was loud. You could hear her, like, probably even in the garage, just laughing in her laugh. It was just so loud. Like, her sound just echoed. Or if she was mad, just like, ha, like, you know, just had to let that energy out and just things like that she would do. Run into our room, fart, run away, just laughing all the way. She was like that.

A week after Micah's death, Kevin got a text from a friend. The driver who killed Micah wasn't in jail, like he'd been told. Her name was Sunny White. She was 28 years old. Police were looking for her. Not because she'd killed Micah, but because she'd allegedly just kidnapped her two kids. There was a police alert out for her. And it had, like, the names of the kids and all that. She had a four-year-old daughter named Arianne.

and I believe a two-year-old son named Nation. Arian and Nation. Carissa also got a text from a friend around the same time. She said that a tribal police officer pulled over a woman, a non-native, and she had said, I came here to kill Indian.

I remember I was a speechless after that. It's just like, you know, like thinking, could it have been a hate crime? You know, could she have driven by, turned around, came back and hit her and thought, oh, I'm not going to get caught. Like we were always warned as kids, like, yeah, watch out, like Nazis and stuff, they'll intentionally just, that's how they get away with killing Indians. They just run them over on the side of the road and

So to me it was like, holy shit, this is real. This is what happened, you know, she was murdered. Carissa and Kevin had so many questions. First, why wasn't Sunny White in jail? Hours after she hit and killed Micah, Sunny had been arrested for child endangerment, not vehicular homicide. They learned she spent seven days in jail and then was released. The charges dropped.

Also, what happened to that investigator from the Montana Highway Patrol, Wayne Bieber, who took Micah's phone? He'd promised to call, but he never did. Carissa and Kevin started blowing up his phone. They called every day for a week. Nothing. Then a friend dialed him from her phone, a number he didn't recognize, and he picked up. Can I ask who was calling again one more time? Sorry about that. Carissa Heavy Runner, the mother of Micah Westwolf.

You gave me your number when we were putting a cross on the side of the road and there was you and another trooper there? Yep. So I haven't gotten, I've been, to be honest with you, I've been running around with my head cut off the last couple weeks trying to get caught up on a bunch of other stuff. Have you talked to anybody else as far as things go? No, because I don't know who else to talk to.

Bieber tells Carissa he's applied for some warrants and then keeps talking about how busy he is. How come she's not in jail still?

So it's one of those things. She was put in jail. We still have to finish up with the rest of our investigation. And that includes waiting for toxicology stuff to come back along with trying to get everything in line that may be associated with evidence for that. Okay.

I will try and get back to you as soon as I can. But to be honest with you, every time I try and seem to do something lately, it ends up going to poop. And I end up not going in the direction that I wanted to go for the day to try and get some stuff done. Okay. How confident did you feel in the investigation at that point? Not confident at all. He told us on the phone.

Oh, everything I touch turns to poo. Everything I touch turns to poo. I'm just thinking, like, that's not what you want to hear. Like, it'd be funny if it was, I guess... This is who's investigating our daughter's case. This is who we're supposed to, you know, rely on to give us information and who we're supposed to trust. Like, this guy is inept. I asked Montana Highway Patrol several times for an interview with Wayne Bieber, but they declined. ♪

Sierra Crane Murdoch. Coming up, Kevin and Carissa realize that if they want anything to happen in the case, they'll need to take matters into their own hands, which they do. Stay with us. This message comes from Charles Schwab. When it comes to managing your wealth, Schwab gives you more choices, like full-service wealth management and advice when you need it. You can also invest on your own and trade on Thinkorswim. Visit Schwab.com to learn more.

This message comes from Travel Nevada. Sand dunes, old saloons, high noons, pioneer trails and cowboy tails, snooze emails. Get a little out there. Plan your trip at www.travelnevada.com. This is American Life. Sarah Crane Murdoch picks up the story of Michael Westwolf and her parents. The distrust Native families have of law enforcement is centuries old.

Starting in the 1860s, the U.S. troops that had been stationed on reservations were replaced with police forces. These police took Native children from their families to send to boarding schools, arrested holy men for practicing religious ceremonies, and quelled rebellions. It was the role of law enforcement on reservations to control Native people before it was to keep them safe. Police were there to protect white settlers who lived on and around reservations.

Meanwhile, a lot of crimes affecting tribal citizens were never investigated or prosecuted. In the 1960s, the federal government turned over its jurisdiction on the Flathead Reservation to the state of Montana. But Montana has been reluctant to spend money on policing the reservation. And tribal members' distrust of law enforcement has only grown. Carissa and Kevin were convinced Bieber wasn't investigating Micah's case. So they tried investigating on their own.

They started working with a tribal advocate who helps families of murder victims. Her name is Erica Shelby. She knocked on every door within a few miles of where Micah was killed, looking for surveillance footage and witnesses.

One business had a direct view. She connected Carissa and Kevin with a lawyer to make sure the business preserved the footage. Three weeks after Micah's death, Bieber finally visited Kevin and Carissa at their house. They remember him standing awkwardly in the kitchen. Carissa's seated at the kitchen island. Kevin is in a recliner behind her.

Erica is there, too, taking notes. The meeting feels tense, restrained. They can't get an answer to their main question. Why wasn't Sunny White behind bars? I mean, to be honest, it's just strange that if she was in fact charged, why is she not in jail? We have to look at everything as the totality. So Montana law, if you are intoxicated, you are not allowed to be on the roadway.

You cannot even be on the shoulder. You have to be walking off into the ditch or using a designated walk path. A walk path. He's not talking about Sonny White's intoxication. He's talking about Micah's. This is the first time anyone in law enforcement has mentioned to Kevin and Carissa that Micah might have been drunk. It's also the first time anyone has told them that being drunk and walking on the side of the road is a crime in Montana.

And it's the first time anyone has suggested that if you get hit, your drunkenness could mean your death was your own fault. Then their tribal advocate, Erica, asks, The totality of the circumstances. Bieber will repeat this phrase 11 times in the recording.

It's pretty vague what he means, and you hear Kevin trying to get Bieber to clarify, to pick apart his logic. Well, I mean, if the other person was in violation of the law as well, wouldn't Mike be charged with intoxicated on a roadway and then the other person be charged with vehicular homicide because she was intoxicated driving, operating a vehicle? Yeah.

That is why I'm saying review. So Micah's toxicology, though, came back where she was impaired? So these are things that take time in order to process. Well, right. I guess my concern would be, like, that's kind of your justification for her not being currently in jail would be Micah's.

Kevin asks him if he's gathering any of the surveillance footage from the night Micah was killed, the footage they'd been working to preserve. Maybe this could tell them something, like if Sunny swerved, or if she stopped when she hit Micah, or sped up.

What would be that you're trying to look for? Anything and everything to get like the total grasp of the situation. Like, for instance, if it is a white supremacist, maybe it was an intentional hit and run. So now all of a sudden it's deliberate homicide and we're not investigating it as such. What is it that you're... I mean, it's about... Her children's names, Aryan and Nation. I can't tell you how to name your child.

Yeah, but if you name your kids Aaron and Nation, chances are you're an affiliate. Look at it as that. And I shouldn't look at it as that. Well, then you shouldn't look at it as Micah was drunk on the side of the road, so we don't, we treat it. To me... I can tell you got pent-up aggression. Whoa, no, no, no, no. Carissa is quiet. She's now suspicious of Bieber. He has Micah's phone with him, and he asks her for the code to open and search it. She refuses.

I have to take this. Why do you have to take it? I have to seal this up now because this goes into, I have to go apply for a warrant. So can we hold on to it until you get the warrant? He says no. Kevin told me Bieber held up the phone in an evidence bag, sealed it shut. So I guess I'm confused as to, that's our property. That's my property. That wasn't on the scene. And now it has to get a warrant.

to collect any information that may be valuable to the investigation. I can tell you 100% after that we knew that...

We spooked him, you know, and so you could tell he was clearly mad after that. You could tell he was flustered. I wish we would have recorded him trying to leave our driveway. He went around the light pole thing once because he didn't know which way he was going. And he had trouble trying to back up over. And it's like his tires were just spinning and we're just standing at the window like laughing. And I was like, does that really just happen?

When the Montana Highway Patrol applied for the warrant to search Micah's phone, it listed intoxication while walking on a road as the crime they were investigating, not the crime that killed Micah. Carissa and Kevin have been together for 18 years. Carissa is Native, Blackfeet, and Diné. Kevin is white, but he grew up on the Flathead Reservation. A lot of his family is Salish Kootenai, including his son.

They met as single parents when Kevin's son was three years old and Micah was six. They became a tight family unit. Kevin built them a house at the foot of the mountains. Their albums are full of photos of them camping and hunting together. They told me Micah was a good shot, but she always intentionally missed. How has losing Micah impacted your marriage? It's been hard. I find myself where...

Kevin is wanting to, you know, get me outside, go take a ride up the mountain. And then I'm being reluctant because I'm already thinking in the back of my mind, this is going to make me sad. I'm going to cry. I don't want to do that, you know. And I feel bad about that because I know he's just trying to get me outside and do the things that we love and Micah loved. There's a saying about the highway Micah died on. Pray for me, I drive 93.

Carissa and Kevin could name three other Native people who'd been killed in the last five years while walking this same stretch of highway. In none of those cases had the driver been prosecuted or even arrested. They wanted to know why. So a few weeks after their meeting with Bieber, they invited the mothers of the victims over to their house for dinner. They all sat in the living room. It was a little awkward.

Bonnie Asensio's daughter Marina was killed in 2022. I wasn't sure what to say or what to do. It was a little bit solemn, kind of. And then when I started talking about Bieber calling me, they were just like, oh my gosh. They learned they'd all had the same investigator, Wayne Bieber.

And the same county prosecutor, James Lepotka, who Carissa and Kevin hadn't heard from yet. I remember, like, I was like, what the fuck, serious? You know, we all looked at each other, us, all our friends, and like, oh my gosh, we cannot let them get away with this. Same lead prosecutor, same lead investigator.

Marina was Bonnie's second child to die on the road. Her first, Ruby, had been riding with a friend when he crashed their car and killed her. He was intoxicated. He survived. Bonnie says the friend told Bieber that Ruby had been driving. But Bonnie's family didn't believe him. They did their own investigation, found witnesses, including a farmer who said he'd seen the friend in the driver's seat.

He went to prison. But if Bonnie and her family hadn't investigated, he might not have been charged. Two years later, when Marina died, no one was charged. Even though the Montana Highway Patrol knew who the driver was, and the family says, told them that she was over the legal limit for THC. Bonnie met with the county prosecutor, James LaPaka. They told us specifically at that meeting that they could not win a case against

It felt to Bonnie like LaPaka had written her daughter off. She obsessed over the particulars of her daughter's case.

She wanted to rent a billboard on the highway and brainstormed messages like, "How hard is it to gather evidence?" and "Whose reservation is this?" and "Who is protecting who?" But she didn't have money for a billboard. She checked herself into the mental health department at a hospital. I talked to another mother, Trisha Finley. Her son, Aiden, was killed in a hit-and-run in 2018.

She says it was almost six years before anyone in law enforcement shared anything with her about her son's case. The county attorney, Lopaka, invited her to his office. A witness to Aiden's death had come forward and named the driver. But there was a problem. Bieber had taken four months to locate the driver and get his confession. During that time, the statute of limitations had passed. So they couldn't find him from November till April? That's what it looks like.

Honestly, if all of this police work would have been wrapped up in November, we could charge him. Why wasn't it? Because we didn't get him. Because they couldn't find him? That's what it looks like. Because I'd have had until the first week in December. But they knew where he lived. I mean, it's not that hard to find somebody. My guess is they weren't in a really big hurry to...

to do anything in November and probably didn't understand that there was a statute of limitations window closing. I bet they weren't paying attention to that at all. Isn't that their job though? Yeah, yeah it is. So because of that, there's, like they're gonna get away with it? I hope not, but that's a possibility.

The driver did get away with it. LaPaka couldn't find a way to charge the case. I reached out to Montana Highway Patrol about Bonnie and Trish's cases, but they declined to answer my questions. There were two harms when Micah was killed. The first when she was hit, the second when she was left on the side of the road to die alone. Nationally, Native pedestrians are six times likelier to be killed in a hit-and-run than white pedestrians. I tried to figure out why.

I learned that when states were building their highway systems in the 1920s and 30s, they put them through reservations instead of around them. Because if they ran through reservations, the federal government had to pick up the tab. Fewer Native people own cars, so they're more likely to be walking along these roads. They're dying where there are no sidewalks, no street lamps.

In Montana, native pedestrians make up more than half of hit-and-run fatalities, even though they're just 8% of the population. And what happens to the drivers? I scoured Montana newspapers and court records trying to figure out which cases got prosecuted. I calculated that between 2011 and 2022, in cases where the victim was native, it was much less likely for the drivers to be found.

And when they were found, their sentences were much lighter. During that period, the drivers who killed Native pedestrians in Montana, if you added up all their sentences, it was a total of 51 years. Those who killed non-Native pedestrians, 265 years. Carissa and Kevin feared their case could end the same way that Trisha's and Bonnie's did, with no one charged, even though law enforcement had found the drivers.

They had a new goal: get Sunny White arrested. Their strategy was public pressure. They would bring attention to Micah's case and also to Bonnie and Trisha's kids' cases, since police had stopped investigating. That night they met with the mothers at their house. They came up with this idea. They'd do a four-day walk along Highway 93. They ended the walk on the steps of the Lake County Courthouse.

The march was all over local and national media. Kevin's a mailman and remembers how excited people on the reservation were when he delivered the state's biggest newspaper with Micah's face on the front page. Carissa created a Facebook group called Micah Matters and quickly collected over a thousand followers. She started getting invitations to speak at big events.

Like at the grandstand for the Missoula County Fair. Imagine if this was your child. There's this one video that Carissa shared with the media that blew up. It's of Micah. She's in their laundry room with a ukulele, singing a parody she wrote of Vance Joy's Riptide. I'm scared of wrestling.

She's singing, I was scared of rez dogs in the wild. I was scared of drunk drivers and catching head lice. It's clever, funny. She never wanted to make the video, but when she played the song for Kevin, he begged her to let him film it.

Was there an aspect of Micah's case that felt to you like, oh, this has the potential to become big? Oh, yes. I believe it was because of the woman that hit her and her children's names. And the contrast of them with Micah. Like, Sunny, who appears to be like a, you know, like, hateful person or whatever. And then Micah, who's this, like...

you know, hippie child or whatever that like loves everybody and all that. Yeah. Did it ever feel to you? You're like, oh, this is sort of like the perfect victim and perfect villain narrative. Right. Yeah. Americans are dumb like that. They just, they need to, you know, like the big villain and the kind, sweethearted victim or whatever. So it's like, it's, you're twisted, you know, it's like one hand that's really sad and

You think of like all the other people that no one cares about. It's like because Micah is this young, beautiful, talented woman, people care about her. This perfect, dumb American narrative of victim and villain, innocent and guilty. Kevin and Carissa realized that Micah's could be the case that got people to care about all these hit and runs. And they decided Carissa would be the public face of their movement.

She comes from a politically active family. Her dad was a state legislator and a tribal councilman. Kevin told me he felt a little cynical about all the public events Carissa was having to do. He didn't know of any white families who had to make a spectacle of their kids' cases to get justice. But he wanted to support Carissa and went to her events. We're definitely yin and yang, like,

If it was just me, like I'm going to be, no one's going to like me. No one's going to talk to me. I'm going to piss everyone off and, and it's, I'm not going to get anything accomplished by myself. Whereas Krista is the complete opposite. Everyone is going to want to talk to her. Everyone likes her, you know? So it's, I think it's, it's nice to sneak in a couple like, you know, right hooks or whatever that maybe knocks some sense into some people that

without them even realizing it. And then she's going to be able to make it so everyone isn't just seeing this angry, like Debbie Downer type dude that hates everything. Yeah, I'm really struck by that. It's like... It makes for a very difficult relationship though, because you never really agree on anything. So it's like, she accepts that I'm wrong and I accept that she's wrong in our own minds. You know what I mean? And we're starting to learn that

Neither one of us are really wrong. What's going through your head, Chrissy? I just, oh no. I appreciate my husband so much for his truth and his fearlessness that he's just going to come out and say whatever. That's how we're a good team is that we are able to cover all sides of it. Coming up, Sarah talks to the county prosecutor about what the hell with not charging and arresting Sonny White. That's in a minute from Chicago Public Radio when our program continues.

This message comes from NPR sponsor Home Instead, the largest in-home senior care network. Home Instead knows that while you might need help with some things, there are others you want to handle on your own, like Monday Morning Sudoku. That's why Home Instead provides adaptable care plans from qualified, compassionate caregivers that know how to lend a hand when you need it most, giving you the peace of mind you and your family deserve. Learn more at homeinstead.com. Home Instead, for a better what's next.

This message comes from Progressive Insurance and the Name Your Price tool. It helps you find car insurance options in your budget. Try it today at Progressive.com. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and Affiliates. Price and coverage match limited by state law. Not available in all states.

This message comes from NPR sponsor Home Instead, the largest in-home senior care network. Home Instead knows that while you might need help with some things, there are others you want to handle on your own, like Monday Morning Sudoku. That's why Home Instead provides adaptable care plans from qualified, compassionate caregivers that know how to lend a hand when you need it most, giving you the peace of mind you and your family deserve. Learn more at HomeInstead.com. Home Instead, for a better what's next.

This is American Life from Ira Glass. Today's show, how to tell a dumb American story. Sarah Crane Murdoch picks up where she left off.

The prosecutor for Lake County is James Lepotka. His jurisdiction is basically the entire Flathead Reservation. He's from Wisconsin, but has worked for Lake County for most of his career. He's white, in his early 40s, smiley. He looks like a Boy Scout. Micah's case had drawn more media attention than any other case he'd worked on because of Chris's organizing. Trying to dig this out.

It was annoying, but the attention also got him more resources from the FBI and the state.

He met with Carissa and Kevin briefly a couple of times in the months after Micah died. I tried to assure them, like, I'm not a white supremacist covering up a homicide for my white supremacist friend. Like, that's not what this is about. And I think I got some of that through to them, but I think that they were also, you know, a little righteously upset that we weren't moving faster.

He acknowledged that Montana Highway Patrol had made mistakes that slowed down the investigation. He had to let Sunny White out of jail because investigators hadn't collected enough evidence to charge her. He also needed Sunny's blood test results to prove she had been intoxicated. But orders at the Montana crime lab were backed up. He told me he never found anything that proved Sunny hit Micah because she was native.

He couldn't verify the rumor that Sunny had come to the reservation to kill an Indian. So he couldn't charge her with a hate crime. I got the sense that he wanted to do a good job for Micah's family.

The first time we met, I was struck by his genuine warmth whenever he talked about Micah. She was a delightful kid. Really? You can tell that just by looking through her phone. What were some of the feelings? Like, do you remember anything in particular that really endeared you to her? She did a lot of videos and a lot of pictures of her, a lot of selfies. They were a rather innocent kind of like little kid. It made me like Micah a lot more.

It was sweet, but also it made me wonder. If he didn't have those photos of Micah, would he like her? Would he have felt as motivated to work on her case? He didn't talk this way about Bonnie and Trisha's kids, Maureen and Aiden. He called what happened to them tragic. But he also said he didn't think a jury would have much sympathy for them. He said they made choices that put themselves at risk.

Highway Patrol concluded that Aiden was lying in the road when he was hit. He'd sent text messages to friends suggesting he was suicidal. And someone reported Marina stumbling intoxicated just before she was killed. Lepaka told me he didn't see any way he could win at trial in either case.

But his explanations left out some key details, like the fact that the driver who killed Marina was intoxicated too, or that in Aiden's evidence file, the coroner said that Aiden's injuries indicated that he'd been standing when he got hit, not lying down. All of this was the sort of reasoning that caused so much agony for Trisha and Bonnie, the feeling that law enforcement assumed their kids were responsible for their own deaths.

Six months after Micah was killed, in October of 2023, Lopaka was finally close to filing charges against Sunny White. He invited Carissa and Kevin into his office to hear about the evidence he had compiled against her. I was kind of excited. I'm like, hey guys, look, we did it. Look, I have all this stuff. This is what we've got. Let me show you the whole thing. And then this is the timeline and what to expect. That's how I felt that meeting was, what that meeting was for.

That's not how Carissa and Kevin felt about the meeting. One of the pieces of evidence he showed them was body cam footage from the day Micah was killed, just hours after Sunny hit her. Her SUV, a Cadillac Escalade, had broken down in a church parking lot. It was missing the passenger side mirror. Police had found the mirror not far from Micah's body.

In the video, the officer talks to Sunny outside her car. Her two young kids are in the back. And she's like totally just like manipulating the shit out of the sheriff or deputy. Like she's crying and, oh my gosh, I don't know what's happening. And that sheriff's like, oh, it's so letting her smoke cigarettes. She's not contained, not handcuffed. I'm thinking like if this was a native woman, she would be stuffed and cuffed like immediately. Yeah.

I saw this video. The deputy does actually cuff Sunny for a few minutes. He tells her she didn't hit a deer. She hit a person, and she starts crying. Asks if she's going to prison forever. Not forever, he says.

But then he takes the cuffs off. Her brother-in-law had shown up to pick up her kids. Sunny starts moving car seats and bags into his truck. I'm like, LaPaka, what the hell? Like, this is a potential crime scene, and he's letting her move items from the vehicle. I was quiet that whole thing. I didn't say one thing because I was mad. Like, is everyone this dumb? Yeah.

in this world that are in these positions of power and we're like telling them what they need to look for or do, how to do their... I don't know. I mean, chemists look at each other and we're like, oh my God, like, it's crazy, you know? Like, I just can't believe it sometimes. Lipaka thinks that Sunny's phone was probably in one of those bags. Highway Patrol never found it. That slowed down the investigation.

He suspects there were drugs and paraphernalia in those bags, too. Her toxicology came back positive for methamphetamine and fentanyl. I will readily acknowledge that in hindsight, we should have not let her remove evidence from the vehicle while we're doing an investigation. That should not have happened. But he also told me one of the kids was in a diaper and needed clothes, so he could see why the officer let Sonny move some bags.

I kept noticing this dynamic whenever I asked Lepotka about a mistake law enforcement made. He'd readily acknowledge it, but then he also always had an explanation that assumed the officers had good intentions. Like when I asked him about Bieber taking Micah's phone. He said, yeah, his bedside manner sucked, but Bieber's also a good guy, and he needed her phone to quickly rule out suicide. If she had been suicidal, it could cause problems for them at trial.

Montana Highway Patrol finally arrested Sunny White just a few days after LaPaka showed Carissa and Kevin the body cam footage. She was charged with negligent vehicular homicide, leaving the scene, drug possession, and child endangerment. LaPaka called Carissa to tell her the news. I couldn't believe that, you know, it was happening. Yeah, it was, it was...

Like, shocking. Like, if you just think about the fact that it took us seven months to get to square one. Would you have brought charges without the amount of media attention that Kevin and Carissa brought to this case? Yes. It might have taken a little longer, and it might not have been...

as good. I think eventually we would have brought charges. Honestly, the amount of media attention made it easier for me to get help from people. So our case ended up being better because of what they did, but they didn't have to do that to get my attention. Sunny White pleaded not guilty and posted Bond immediately, $100,000. I reached out to her for an interview and didn't hear back.

Now that Sunny had been arrested, Kevin and Carissa had a new goal. They announced it to the media at a press conference outside the Lake County Courthouse. I'm thankful that today finally happened where Sunny White read her charges. I don't want the judge and the county to take the easy way out, do a plea bargain. I would like to see this go to trial.

What did a trial mean to you? Like, what would a trial have given you? I was thinking, like, yeah, plea bargain, that's the easy way out. That's keeping it hush-hush, sweeping it under the rug. That's, you know, cutting the media out and all that. You know what I mean? It's ending it abruptly when we did all this and...

Looking at the bigger goal is it would be trial and everything would be laid out and all that. You know, that's what I visualized. Yeah. If it was to go to trial, LaPaka and Lake County would have had, and the Montana Highway Patrol would have had to present it to the world exactly how they investigated this case. Any halfway decent attorney would have been able to pick apart their so-called investigation and evidence and,

Yeah, that's so interesting. Like, would you say you wanted the state to lose? I mean, absolutely, which is kind of probably sounds ridiculous. So, I mean, you know, Micah is gone. There's nothing that's going to ever bring her back. So I would sacrifice Micah's personal justice for a big picture justice. You know what I mean? Like, that would be a very easy sacrifice for me personally.

Kevin kept thinking about this one time, shortly before Micah was killed. He was in the kitchen. I came into the house to eat something, and Micah was in her room, and she comes, like, bolting out, like, Hey, bro, if someone murked me, you'd forgive them, right? And I just remember, like, what are you talking about, weirdo? And she's like, well, you would, right? And I was like, I don't know, would you want me to? She said, well, yeah. And I was like, well, then, yeah, I guess. To me, it was like some dumb thing she would say, and I was like,

Forgiving Sunny was easier than he thought. He wasn't angry at her. He was angry at Montana and Lake County for how they handled this case.

for how they handled Bonnie's and Trisha's cases too. It was the state's fault that a driver could leave a native pedestrian to die on the side of the road and think she'd get away with it. A trial date was set for December 2024. Lepaka invited Carissa and Kevin to his office for another meeting. He had some good news.

The case had become so high profile that the Montana Attorney General's office sent in one of its best trial attorneys, Thorne Geist. And he'd gotten Micah's blood alcohol content excluded from trial. This was a big win for Carissa and Kevin. Micah had been over the legal limit for walking on the road.

But within a couple of minutes, the real point of this meeting became clear. Sonny's attorney came to us a couple of weeks back and wanted to talk about what we think would be a fair resolution to this case. But we wanted to consult with you before we made any formal order. So that's a plea bargain, right? Yeah. A plea bargain. Carissa is caught off guard. She thought she'd made it clear to Lopaka that they wanted a trial.

Lopaka says he is ready to go to trial. But he also wants to offer a plea because anything can happen at a trial. They could lose the whole thing on one jury member. And even if they did win, Sonny would likely file an appeal. It could take years to work its way through the courts. Lopaka is in this dance with the family.

He doesn't have to do what the family says, but he has an incentive to get them on his side. Because if the family doesn't want a plea bargain, the judge could reject it. So Lopaka keeps pressuring them to consider a plea deal. But then he also keeps trying to make it seem like he's not. We are not afraid. I don't want you to think we're just trying to settle this so we can go home. To me, this is an opportunity to make a change. The state prosecutor, Thorn Geist, says he'd like to make a plea offer tomorrow.

He needs them to think about numbers. If Sunny pleads guilty to the first two counts, vehicular homicide and leaving the scene, that gives them up to 40 years in prison. But she wouldn't serve all of the years she's sentenced to. They'd have to offer to suspend some of that time. The question then becomes this. What does justice look like to this family?

To me, the whole point of this trial would be to discourage future freaking homicides. So my concern is like, and I know that Micah would feel the same way, is these other Aryan nations, we've had an influx of these groups moving here recently. They need to see these hard numbers. So there's got to be like, 40 years is like, oh shit, that's my life. My life is essentially done. So what do you think?

Kevin told me his strategy at this point was to offer Sunny an unrealistic deal, so trial would be her only option. LaPaka turns to Carissa.

I'm just thinking, when would you like us to tell you what terms I'm in today? If we could get something from you by Tuesday, that would help us out. And then sooner we'll get a hold of you. Up until this meeting, Kevin and Carissa had presented a united front, even when they disagreed.

But this question of whether to keep pushing for trial or to sign off on a plea deal revealed a fracture between them. They didn't discuss it anymore on the way home. Kevin wanted a trial. Carissa understood. But she also understood that prosecutors were going to offer a plea no matter what. She felt caught between aligning with her husband and showing willingness to work with the state so they didn't cut her out. She didn't want to lose what little control she had.

So when LaPaka called her a few days later to ask for a number, she told him 40 years with 20 suspended. I tried calling Kevin after to see how he felt. He didn't pick up. Instead, I got a call from Carissa. She sounded worried that I'd heard they had a disagreement. A week passed. Sunny still hadn't accepted the plea deal, which was about to expire.

Carissa and Kevin headed to court. They sat in the front row. I sat behind them, waiting for their case to come up. Suddenly, Lopaka approached. He leaned over to whisper in Carissa's ear. Then she leaned over and whispered to Kevin. They followed Lopaka out of the courtroom. When they returned a few minutes later, I couldn't read their faces. Carissa whispered to her dad. I just wanted to be over. Ah.

The judge called up their case. Okay, so now we'll go to DC 23344, State of Montana versus Sunny Catherine White. The courtroom door opened again, and Sunny walked in. I have just been handed a plea agreement. Is that correct? Yes, Judge. That is correct, Your Honor, and I'm sorry for our tardiness. Oh, it's okay. All right, so... I noticed that Sunny had a new tattoo on her forehead, over her right brow. It said Arian in blue cursive.

So, Ms. White, with your rights in mind, are you ready to enter into a plea based on the plea agreement? Yes. As to counts one and two, how do you plead? Guilty or under. Sunny's defense attorney read the facts. She was pleading guilty too. Sunny is to count one. On or about March 31st of 2023, did you negligently cause the death of Micah Westwolf while operating a motor vehicle while under the influence of drugs in Lake County, Montana? Yes. Yes.

and you did not render aid or remain at the scene? Yes. Carissa started crying. She leaned into her dad. Carissa and Kevin didn't get a trial, but Carissa did get something she hadn't expected.

She heard Sunny White admit to killing their daughter. It was a huge, almost instantaneous, like, weight off my shoulders. I just felt it, like, gone. And that's part what brought on the crying. I don't know, something just clicked inside of me where I just felt like, finally, you know, she's admitting guilt. Of course, Kevin did not feel that way.

We just played right into their hand. It was the best case scenario to get the family to be okay with a slap on the wrist. So I felt dirty. Did you sense how Carissa felt? Like I did feel her relief. I think that she was really trying to ignore my vibe, which, and I totally understand, like she deserves all the credit and she's taken on the weight of this situation

way more than I have. Carissa had asked for 40 years with 20 suspended, but the plea offer Sunny agreed to was 30 years with 20 suspended. What this meant was that Sunny would spend a maximum of 10 years in prison, and she could still request parole and get out earlier.

To prevent that, Carissa and Kevin could ask the judge for a parole restriction at Sonny's sentencing hearing. Make it so that Sonny'd have to stay in prison the full 10 years. That way they wouldn't have to keep returning to court to make their case every time she applied for parole. Or they could try to get the judge to reject the plea deal and send it back to trial. Yeah, put them in there.

Sonny's sentencing hearing was on a snowy morning this past February. Micah's family and supporters gathered in front of the Lake County Courthouse to put up a red teepee. This was almost two years after Micah was killed. Carissa handed out Micah Matters t-shirts. Kevin hadn't shown up yet, and Carissa kept looking around for him.

They'd been fighting. Kevin still didn't want the plea deal. He didn't want to endorse the state's narrative that they were getting justice. But Carissa was exhausted. She wanted it all to be over. She started venting to a friend. We haven't even been talking. I don't know if we're going to survive this, honestly. It's him. He can't handle what I'm doing, I guess. I don't know. It sucks.

And to pull this shit, like, right before this. Selfish. Kevin still hadn't arrived when the sentencing hearing was about to start. By Berger-Gidden, it's 8:53. But thank you for being here. Hope Kevin's not too late. The room was packed, most of them here for Micah. Micah's young cousins were curled up on their puffy jackets on the floor. Finally, Kevin arrived. Dirty boots, jeans, hoodie.

A screen to the judge's right rotated through portraits of Micah and candid family photos. One by one, the judge called her relatives up to speak. They told stories about Micah. Her great-aunt Iris named eight of her own relatives who have been killed on roads in Montana. I got the sense of how relentless grief can be when new cases are opening before old ones even close.

Finally, it was Kevin's turn. Judge, this state calls Kevin Howard. He slumped onto the stand, hung his ball cap on his knee. What would you like to say to the court here today? So, as you've all heard, Micah was, you know, quite a special person.

As a parent, typically we teach our children. I think in my case, I learned a lot more from her than I taught her. He told the story again of Micah in the kitchen when she asked if he'd ever forgive a person who murdered her. I have no choice but to honor her wishes and forgive Mrs. White for her heinous act. But, you know, growing up on this res, I've lost other family members in similar ways as

that didn't receive justice. And so for that, I cannot forgive. And until there's a change that's made, I hold Lake County responsible. I hold this court responsible. He brought up what Montana Highway Patrol did to Bonnie after her daughter Marina was killed. The same lead investigator of the Highway Patrol, Wayne Beaver, stonewalled Mina's mom and basically intimidated her

to just back down and let things go. So we are not receiving justice today. Even though we're all here thinking we are, you guys are pacifying us in an effort to continue about your discriminatory practices. She will be granted parole. She's a white lady with two young children.

Why wouldn't she? That's the way the system works. All right. Well, you don't, I know everything that you're saying is completely valid. I totally understand where you're coming from, but you don't actually, you don't know what this court is going to sentence her to yet. Thank you, Your Honor. And I hope that it's not the plea deal. I hope that we go to trial and we see exactly how this investigation took place, how we as a family were forced to investigate our own daughter's death,

What kind of nonsense is that? You guys need to do better. I mean, how many families do you know personally, James, that have not received justice? He means James LaPaka, the county prosecutor. Sorry, he can't answer you. I'm done. Yeah, thank you, Your Honor. And you don't agree with the plea agreement? Absolutely not. You would have wanted this to go to trial? Absolutely. And not to, just to expose...

The treatment that you went through. The inadequate investigation. And it seems like you that you went through the treatment that you were subjected to, you know, is horrible. And I'm so sorry for that. Yeah, nothing is being done.

And, you know, I think that it's powerful for you to come here today, though, to talk about this. And we need to hear from folks like you who have been treated badly. And so thank you for coming and saying all of that. All right. Thank you. You can make the change, Your Honor. You can start the change. All right. Well, thank you very much. Anything else you'd like to add? No. Okay. You may step down.

This is the first time the judge has heard that Micah's family doesn't like the plea deal. I wondered if the judge might actually reject the plea and send the whole case back to trial. But then Carissa took the stand. Hello, everyone. Thank you for being here. She pulled out a crumpled sheet from a yellow legal pad. I had to speak up as hard as it was when all I wanted to do was stay in bed forever.

and do nothing and just cry, but I couldn't because that's not who I am and that is not the people that I come from and that's not the values that I instilled in my daughter. And I had to do what I had to do as hard as it was, so hard.

And this is what all these other families are up against, when you should just be able to grieve and trust the system, trust the law enforcement to have open communication with you and to trust that they're doing their job. And I didn't have that trust. And it's breaking our family.

It's causing strain between me and my husband. And most families, parents that lose a child, they don't survive the loss of a child. I don't know if me and my husband will survive this. At the end of her statement, they queued up the ukulele video. And right before they hit play, the judge interrupted. What I want to know, though, in addition to everything that you've already testified to, is what you think about the plea agreement.

She asked for a parole restriction, not a trial. Only a few people spoke on Sunny's behalf.

They emphasized what a good mother she was. They said she should get a shorter prison term so that she can return to her kids sooner. Her defense attorney said that Sunny was a victim too. Her husband was abusive. The night Sunny killed Micah, she was escaping a domestic violence incident. He was the white supremacist, the attorney said, not Sunny. She shouldn't be the one who shoulders all the blame. And she shouldn't have to be punished for the ways the justice system failed Micah's family.

Then she passed it off to Sunny, who stood facing the judge. She wore a cream-colored blouse and read from a piece of paper. I want to start by saying I take responsibility for my actions in these matters. She immediately started talking about her own kids, how she was still breastfeeding her youngest, how she was staying sober for them. She didn't try to explain or deny her white supremacy affiliations, nor did she take full responsibility for killing Micah.

To the family, friends, and loved ones of Micah Westwolf, I give my most sincerest apologies for the horrid pain and suffering that I played a part in causing you all. All right, thank you. Okay, is there any reason why a sentence should not now be imposed?

Okay, so I am going to go along with the plea agreement. Sunny would spend 10 years in prison. But there was still the question of whether or not she could get parole before then. The judge addressed Sunny directly. I do not find your version of events credible. This is simply you continuing to mitigate your responsibility and blaming others for what you did.

So therefore, having been found guilty of count one vehicular homicide while under the influence sentences imposed as follows. The defendant shall be committed to the Montana State Prison for 25 years with 15 of those years suspended.

On the following conditions, the defendant shall be ineligible for parole for a period of 10 years. Ineligible for parole. They had won. Carissa reached for Kevin's hand, leaned into him. They stayed seated as their relatives huddled around to embrace them. You are remanded to the custody of the Lake County Sheriff for transportation to the Montana State Prison. All right, anything further? All right, thank you. We are adjourned for the day.

Sonny was handcuffed and let out the door. Carissa finally stood and gave Lepotka a long hug. People streamed out around them, glassy-eyed. Some supporters from the overflow room rushed Kevin. They said he should run for office. He seemed lighter than I'd ever seen him and surprised by the judge's ruling. In a sense, justice prevailed, you know. It's the best we can hope for. Outside, at the Red Tipi, there was hot chocolate. Anybody got a mug?

Carissa gave another speech, then checked in with all the television reporters. Those that gave testimony, we did what we came here to do today. Thank you so much. Every time they'd won something they didn't expect to win, Carissa told me she felt bittersweet. She pushed so hard to show other families that they deserved justice. And now here she was, getting what other families didn't get.

Throughout the testimony, I kept looking at Bonnie, Marina's mother, wondering what she was thinking. How did it feel for you to hear Sonny White admit to killing Micah? It felt really good. It felt good. I heard her voice shake a little bit. You know, I pictured the girl that hit my daughter. I pictured her being up there. And I told myself that was okay if that didn't happen for me.

I don't have to know why things happen. It just was, I cried of happiness, you know, when I left. There is some things, some justice you can get from other people's winnings. Trisha, Aiden's mom, didn't go to the sentencing. She's the one Lepaka told he couldn't file charges because the statute of limitations had passed. I wanted to go. Carissa asked me to go.

And then my stomach just, it was probably anxiety or, you know, stress. I asked Trisha how she felt about the outcome. Mixed. Mixed emotions, you know. Happy. Mad. And mad because? Because... Why can't it be you? Why can't it be you? That's Trisha's mom, Georgie.

They were sitting next to each other on the couch. Yeah, I'm sorry. No, it's okay. Georgie went to the sentencing hearing instead of Tricia. It gives me hope that Aiden's going to be next, that there will be some justice. I mean, that's cool. I mean, I pretty much don't have hope anymore, but...

I don't want you to not have hope. I don't want Audrey to not have hope. Audrey is her daughter. Trisha's marriage didn't survive Aiden's death. She told me it wasn't just grief. It was the way grief turned her into a different person. An angrier person. A person exhausted from pushing for answers. This is how grief affected all of the other parents I met, which makes what Carissa and Kevin did feel even more extraordinary.

But it cost them two. A week after sentencing, I got a text from Carissa. She and Kevin broke up. When I talked to her, she wasn't sure what was going to happen between them. She said they were working on it. For the anniversary of Micah's death last month, Carissa told Kevin she wanted to spend the day in the mountains. Just them and their son as a family.

Sarah Crane Murdoch. She's writing a new book, and a big part of it is this case. Her first book, if you like this story, you will really like that one. It's called Yellow Bird, Oil, Murder, and a Woman's Search for Justice in Indian Country. It was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. ♪ Blackbird singing in the dead of night ♪ ♪ Take these broken wings and learn to fly ♪ ♪ All your life ♪ ♪ You were only waiting for this moment to arrive ♪

Our program is produced today by Miki Meek. Dana Chivas edited the show. The people who put together today's program include Jen Dye Bonds, Michael Kamate, Emmanuel Jochi, Angela Gervasi, Catherine Raimondo, Stone Nelson, Ryan Rumery, Frances Swanson, Marisa Robertson-Textor, Julie Whitaker, and Diane Wu. Our managing editor is Sara Abdurrahman. Our senior editor is David Kestenbaum. Our executive editor is Emmanuel Berry.

Special thanks today to the Fund for Investigative Journalism, Sarah Two-Teeth, Brian Dupuis, Cheryl Horne, Dave Blanchard, and Becky Blanchard and family. This American Life is delivered to public radio stations by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange. Quick program note, we keep doing these bonus episodes every two weeks for our life partners. The latest one, I do a stand-up set on stage. If you're curious about all this and want to become a life partner, go to thisamericanlife.org slash lifepartners.

Thanks, as always, to our program's co-founder, Mr. Torrey Malatia. Every day, I see him in the hallway here at the office. He always says the same exact thing to me. I'm not a white supremacist covering up a homicide for my white supremacist friend. I believe you, Torrey. I'm Ira Glass. Back next week with more stories of this American life.

Support for this podcast and the following message come from E-Trade from Morgan Stanley. With E-Trade, you can dive into the market with easy-to-use tools, zero-dollar commissions, and a wide range of investments. And now there's even more to love. Get access to industry-leading research and insights from Morgan Stanley to help guide your decisions. Open an account and get up to $1,000 or more with a qualifying deposit.

Get started today at E-Trade.com. Terms and other fees apply. Investing involves risks. Morgan Stanley, Smith Barney, LLC. Member SIPC. E-Trade is a business of Morgan Stanley.