WATFORD CITY, N.D. — I stand on my back deck and look up at the night sky. The air is still and cool, and the stars are twinkling among the shine of the Northern Lights. It’s a welcome sight, a sort of calm before the restless night of sleep I would experience when I lay down that night beside my exhausted husband.

Just two days before, white and gray smoke billowed and bubbled and raged ominously from that same horizon to the northeast of our house, the high winds pushing a

massive wildfire away

and in our favor and saving us from having to worry about evacuation or trenching around our home.

Our phones buzzed, warning us that everything between mile marker 138 and 148 on Highway 22, and one mile west and east on each side needed to be evacuated.

Our ranch is three miles west of mile marker 135.

Residents from Mandaree, the little town just seven or so miles northeast of us as the crow flies, were told to leave as rural firefighters and Black Hawk helicopters worked to save it. I could see them from my back deck, black specks moving across the sky, the thick gray plumes of smoke making those helicopters look like children’s toys. It seemed like an impossible task as the wind kicked up 70 mph gusts, snapping powerlines and wreaking havoc across the prairie.

Just an hour or so earlier that day, my friend 10 miles to the north of us looked out her kitchen window and saw smoke burning the corrals and old outbuildings of an abandoned homestead directly to the east of her. She called 911 in a panic.

All the rural firefighters she knew, including her husband, including mine, including dozens and dozens of other friends and community members, were fighting fires five or so miles to the north of her by our church on the other side of the Blue Buttes. She hung up with dispatch and called all the neighbors she could think of who could possibly be in its path and then loaded her kids in the car and sat helplessly watching the grass and trees catch fire.

The night before, around 2 a.m., all volunteer first responders who were available in our community were called to the scene of a fire that had erupted near the town of Arnegard. During the night, the winds had picked up to 50-60 mph, and it would take three days to get that fire contained while more and more resources were deployed and more fires sparked and spread.

That one fire was more than enough to handle, but in the next 24 hours, I heard my husband on the other end of the phone line say in his steady, stern voice: “All of western North Dakota is on fire.”

The Elkhorn fire, the Bear Den fire, the Charleson fire, the Arnegard fire, the Ray fire, the big ones … they all have names to us now, but in the heat of raging wind and black walls of smoke, to my husband and those on the front lines, it felt like everywhere they turned, there were more flames.

I looked to the north of the house, the east, the south, nearly every horizon was billowing smoke.

“It feels like we’re surrounded here, Chad,” I told him, hoping he had more information than I did that would reassure me that our place wasn’t in danger.

“Well, you are. You are surrounded,” he replied with a reality that many many more were facing, even more dangerously than us in that very moment.

I learned that sitting in our house with a direct line to social media reports from neighbors and emergency management offices, I might have had more information on the scope of the fires than the men and women focused on moving inch by inch in the black of the night and relentless howl of the wind, fighting for homes and land and the livelihoods that depend on it.

“I have never seen anything like this in my life,” my husband said as he drove his truck from one fire location to the next, trying to fill me in as best as he could when he could. “We can’t see anything out here, it’s like a black wall of smoke and dust. It’s absolutely out of control.”

I stood in the house, helpless and anxious. We had company from Bismarck. They had come to fill an Elk tag, but our fun weekend turned on a dime and we were left to distract one another, to feed one another, and to analyze and speculate and wait for the clock to hit 10 p.m. when the weather report promised a calmer wind.

My dad took to the hills to watch for any signs of new flames close to us. I watched my phone for any more updates. I called and texted neighbors. I worried about them. And then I worried about us. And then I worried about my husband and everyone out there in an unprecedented situation, doing the best they could against Mother Nature, who turns from companion to rival at the suck of a breath.

The winds did die down around 10 p.m., and it was close to 1 in the morning when my husband called and said he was headed home for now. My dad came off the hilltop. We all looked at my soot-covered, exhausted husband and waited for what he wanted to tell us.

The next day and the day after that, he was out again, mopping up flare-ups, assessing the damage, fixing the trucks, checking in. Some men have barely left the fire sites, too nervous to look away as the repercussions of a wind shift could put their houses in danger.

As I write this, some big flames are still raging in the badlands at the Elkhorn fire, putting ranches at risk and the National Guard to work. The Bear Den fire is contained but still burning. The wind shifts and dry conditions keep the first responders and ranchers watching the hot spots and continuing to put out flames. The helicopters land and take off and scoop water from Lake Sakakawea. The planes dump.

All across western North Dakota, a person will tell you their own story about these fires for years to come. Two men who lost their lives won’t get the chance. At least four homes were lost. Livestock were lost and killed. Early law enforcement reports indicate

nearly 90,000 acres in Williams County were destroyed,

with more in the surrounding counties.

My husband comes home from the fire hall and steps out on the deck next to me to watch those Northern Lights. His hair and skin smell like smoke and ashes. The light of two helicopters moved across the sky, little beacons of hope among the stars.

DICKINSON — Each year, the North Dakota Council on Abused Women’s Services (CAWS), gathers data from 19 victim advocacy centers across the state, compiling annual fact sheets that provide a snapshot of how many victims of domestic violence (DV) and sexual assault (SA) reach out for help and what kinds of abuse they face.

CAWS annual statistics, published in April, revealed that advocacy centers served 6,131 victims of DV and 1,288 victims of SA in 2023, a 21% increase since 2022 where 6,128 victims served.

Women and girls made up the majority of victims, with 83% of DV cases involving females. Among SA victims, at least 1,042 were women. People with disabilities were also notably impacted, comprising 18% of DV victims and nearly one-third of SA victims.

Seth O’Neill, Executive Director of CAWS North Dakota, emphasized the statistics highlight a troubling reality: “The 7,419 total victims served is a shocking reminder of the prevalence of violence in our communities.” He noted that many incidents go unreported, indicating the true number is likely much higher.

Advocacy centers provided over 20,000 services to SA victims and assisted with 431 emergency protection orders in 2023. However, North Dakota’s advocates are preparing for a significant decline in federal funding over the next two years, even as violence rates rise. Lawmakers are expected to receive budget requests for additional state funding to offset the anticipated loss of federal support.

Liz Schneider, executive director of the McLean Family Resource Center, warned of increased lethality in violent incidents post-COVID, stating, “The level of violence is almost unfathomable.”

With federal funding from the Victims of Crime Act (VOCA) dropping from an average of $5.2 million to $2.4 million, organizations are calling for increased state funding.

Darianne Johnson, executive director of Dickinson’s DV and Rape Crisis Center (DVRCC) discusses how the decrease in federal funding is already being felt in Stark County.

“We are really feeling it here, the decrease in funding is hard to wrap your head around for several reasons —One being yearly increases in victim numbers and then there’s the rising costs of everything from groceries and gas to services,” Johnson said. “It has been increasingly hard to understand especially when it comes time to assess the budget.”

DVRCC spans all of southwestern North Dakota including the counties of Adams, Billings, Bowman, Dunn, Golden Valley, Hettinger, Slope and Stark. Overall, these funding challenges pose a serious risk to the safety and well-being of domestic and sexual violence victims in southwest rural North Dakota, necessitating attention and action from state lawmakers and community leaders.

With only one DV shelter in southwestern North Dakota serving the entire area can significantly impact the community and the effectiveness of support services. Shelters may struggle to offer a comprehensive range of services, such as counseling, legal assistance, and advocacy, due to resource constraints.

North Dakota has seen an rise in domestic violence-related homicides, which account for 30%-40% of the state’s total homicides in recent years, according to CAWS. Many of these incidents occur in rural areas with limited access to support services.

Geographical barriers in remote or rural areas often force individuals to travel long distances, which deters many and further isolates those most in need.

Reduced funding could lead to potential implications:

• Increased Vulnerability: Fewer resources for victims, complicating the access for support, increasing their risk.
• Limited Accessibility: Increased wait times for services could delay their access to critical support.
• Service Gaps: Organizations may struggle to meet rising demand leaving victims without help.
• Staffing Challenges: Funding cuts can reduce the ability to hire and retain skilled staff, affecting service quality.
• Impact on Prevention Efforts: Less funding weakens violence prevention programs, worsening the cycle.
• Increased Pressure on State Funding: Reduced federal funds shift the burden to state budgets, risking cuts elsewhere.
• Rising Crime: Less funding and more violence could lead to higher crime rates.
• Local Program Strain: In rural areas, funding cuts leave critical gaps in support where services are already limited.

CAWS urges anyone experiencing domestic or sexual violence to seek help through their 24/7 confidential services. For assistance, individuals can visit the Find Help page on CAWS North Dakota’s

website

.

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence they can reach the National Domestic Violence hotline at:

• 1−800−799−7233
• TTY 1−800−787−3224
• Local Hotline 1-888-225-4506.

LeAnn M. Stasiowski is the Community Pulse reporter for The Dickinson Press, covering education, business and cultural events. She profiles local businesses and entrepreneurs, reports on economic trends and educational developments, and highlights arts, entertainment and dining in the region. From attending school board meetings to reviewing local festivals and restaurants, LeAnn provides comprehensive coverage that celebrates and informs the community.

BISMARCK — Homelessness is not just a Fargo issue in North Dakota.
Bismarck now has its own ban on public camping.

The Bismarck City Commission passed that ban Tuesday, Oct. 8, just a month

after Fargo passed its own rules

for homeless encampments.

Bismarck City Commissioners faced a struggle the Fargo City Commission is very familiar with: balancing public safety and cleanliness with compassion for one of the state’s most vulnerable communities.

Some officials say the issue is growing across the state, with North Dakota’s candidates for governor also weighing in.

“The first step is to provide a tool for the law enforcement, for Bismarck Police Department to be able to respond to situations where we do have calls for complaints effectively,” Bismarck city administrator Jason Tomanek, said.

Bismarck’s prohibition on public camping includes exceptions, much like Fargo’s own ordinance. Homeless people will be able to sleep outside in certain designated areas.

Before removing a campsite, the city must provide 24-hour notice. In Fargo, the city offers 48 hours.

Fargo’s ordinance contains exceptions for people who establish a housing plan with a mobile outreach team staff from the Downtown Engagement Center, and abide by certain rules covering cleanliness and proximity to other camps.

At Tuesday’s Bismarck City Commission meeting, there was a long line for public comment, with some citizens raising concerns about cleanliness and safety.

City commissioner Michael Connelly argued that without a clear set of guidelines, the problem could only get worse.

“Folks are going to go to the communities that don’t have ordinances, and that’s going to be a huge challenge,” he said.

Multiple people who work with Bismarck’s homeless population told the council that area shelters are overcapacity, just as they are in Fargo.

North Dakota’s gubernatorial candidates acknowledge the issue is now statewide, with both calling on boosts to services.

“We just can’t throw out the mentally ill who need help. We just can’t abandon them on the streets,” State Sen. Merrill Piepkorn, the Democratic candidate for governor, said.

“We have to get really, really aggressive, and we have to get creative, because we don’t have enough addiction counselors,” U.S. Rep. Kelly Armstrong, R-N.D., said.

One Bismarck commissioner echoed that concern, saying that it might be the time for more than local solutions.

“We need to have the state involved and engaged in trying to solve this problem. This doesn’t solve homelessness, but it’s a step forward to try and keep our cities safe and clean up some of the more egregious problems we have,” Bismarck City Commissioner John Risch said.

Violating the Bismarck ordinance would be class B misdemeanor, and includes a fine up to $1,500.

Bismarck City Attorney Jannelle Combs said that’s primarily a tool for police to be able to enforce the ordinance, and says it’s very unlikely that anyone would face such a fine.

Mike McGurran has been a reporter and anchor at WDAY-TV since 2021.