Siletz tribe using massive mobile unit to meet survivors of assault where they feel most comfortable

By SHAYLA ESCUDERO/Lincoln Chronicle

Serena Depoe is already at the end of her workday when she gets the call – another Siletz tribal member has been assaulted.

This call is early; there is still daylight. Oftentimes, the calls come in the middle of the night. As a sexual assault victim’s advocate, it’s her job to accompany tribal survivors. In Siletz, there are no hospitals, so Depoe may need to pick them up and take them there herself.

Almost always the visits will take 8 to 10 hours.

Depoe will sit with them in the waiting room. They could be there for 45 minutes before they are moved to the emergency room where they will wait another hour or two to take vitals and do basic first aid. Then they will go to a quieter wing of the hospital where the survivor will fill out a 17-page medical history form. They will also see a trauma nurse who gives them medication to prevent sexually transmitted infections and pregnancy and collects forensic evidence.

Then, a police officer will come to take a statement.

By this time, the survivor will have to recount their assault two or three times.

“This is why people don’t want to go to the hospital,” Depoe said.

Sexual assault is underreported, especially in tribal communities. One in two Native women and one in four Native men in the United States have experienced some form of sexual violence in their lifetime, according to a National Institute of Justice study.

Although Depoe has always seen sexual assault nurse examiners move with tact and sensitivity, not everyone the survivor interacts with knows how to practice trauma-informed care. She’s seen survivors shut down as they navigate a long, tiresome process.

Native American people are also more likely to experience discrimination in health care and police treatment, according to a 2020 scientific study. Using a series of surveys, researchers found 19 percent of Native Americans living in rural areas faced discrimination compared to 3 percent from their white counterparts. Twenty seven percent reported unfair police treatment compared to 5 percent reported by those who were white.

While the CARE team at the Siletz Community Health Clinic helps tribal members navigate these systems, Depoe still sees the gaps.

Mobile healing unit

At first, the tribal clinic tried to mend the gaps by hiring its own sexual assault nurse examiner – someone to collect forensic evidence and administer medications to survivors so they didn’t have to go to the hospital. The clinic got a federal grant to hire the nurse but had trouble finding someone to fill the position.

At the same time, the clinic was expanding its ability to help sexual assault survivors. Eight staff went through a 40-hour training session. They learned how to better communicate with survivors, do basic first aid and learned to collect evidence from clothing and DNA from survivor’s fingernails.

“We were the in-between, and so that’s that buffer that I think the tribe really needs,” said CARE program manager Rachelle Endres.

Endres and Depoe have offices at the clinic where they mainly address behavioral health issues and connect their clients with culturally specific services. Their space wasn’t set up for the work that they wanted to do more of.

So, they found another way to use the grant – purchasing a 44-foot, $500,000 van the size of an RV equipped to meet survivors anywhere in Lincoln County.

Inside the vehicle there is an examination chair, shower, refrigerators filled with snacks and medications, and a couch with plush animals. Here, Depoe can collect evidence and hand it off to the Lincoln County Sheriff’s Office, which then transfers the evidence to the Oregon State Police crime lab.

“We are filling that gap if they don’t want to go to the hospital, they don’t want to talk to a cop,” Depoe said. “They are having to do those things within probably one of the worst times of their life, and now they are being given another option.”

Survivors don’t have to answer dozens of questions and fill out a form. If they decide they want to press charges the evidence is there.

The mobile unit serves any tribal member, even those not officially enrolled in the Confederated Tribes of Siletz Indians as long as they live in Lincoln County, which includes about 2,300 people. Ideally, Endres would like to get agreements with different businesses and municipalities so the unit can park in different cities for outreach events.

The unit will also provide different services including sexually transmitted infection education, behavioral health services, counseling, and assist treatment for substance use disorder and outreach, Depoe said, so those seeking sexual assault resources can do so discretely.

Last year Depoe worked with six survivors. Over the past three months, she’s had 15. That isn’t because there are more sexual assaults happening, she said, but means there is more trust being established and people are reaching out. She is optimistic that the mobile healing unit will put her team in touch with even more survivors.

Personal recovery

Depoe feels a very personal connection to the images on the mobile healing unit. Both sides depict dancers in jingle dresses and traditional regalia, and a basket weave design borders its top.

Depoe is a survivor of sexual assault and substance use disorder, living in Eugene and feeling disconnected from her culture. Things didn’t start to change for her until she started seeking treatment through the tribe and integrating culture healing practices.

When she danced in her regalia for the first time at powwow, people came up to her and told her she was glowing — and she felt it.

“I wanted dancers on the outside because at that moment it was for the first time that I finally felt like I was getting to start my journey in healing, like I wasn’t a victim anymore,” she said.

Depoe believes that healing comes from the land and gaining back that connection to culture. Both sides of the vehicle have the words “Ghaa-ghlith-naa” which translates to “we heal” in Dee-ni.

“When you are assaulted it’s like a piece of your soul is ripped away,” Depoe said. “When you can get the help that you need and the support that you need, it brings you back to the community.”

• Shayla Escudero is an enterprise reporter for the Lincoln Chronicle covering local governments, education, housing and social services and can be reached at [email protected]