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Documentary chronicles the horrifying story of murdered and missing indigenous women

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Amanda Erickson, director of “She Cried That Day.”
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Christine Means campaign to seek justice for her dead sister is at the core of “She Cried That Day.”
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Dustinn Craig, director of photography, and Amanda Erickson, director and executive producer,
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Debbie Begay, above, continues to mourn her daughter, Dione Thomas, who died after being found bloody and injured in a Gallup motel room in 2015.
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If You Go

If you go

WHAT: Fundraiser for “She Cried That Day,” documentary that explores crisis of missing and murdered indigenous women and relatives. Special guest, actor Wes Studi.

Food tasting by

Pioche Food Group.

WHEN: 6-8 p.m. Thursday

WHERE: Harwood

Art Center,

1114 Seventh NW

ADMISSION: Suggested contributions starting at $50.

RESERVATIONS: RSVP to amanda@seesclearly productions.com.

WHAT ELSE: 100 Women Who Care Santa Fe will host a fundraiser for the film, 5-8 p.m. Aug. 15, Neptune Event Center, 728 Canyon Road. Ticketed event featuring panel discussion and musical performance. Go to seesclearly productions.com for updates.

Filmmaker and TV producer Amanda Erickson wanted to tell the shocking story of murdered and missing Indigenous women in a way that made an impact, that might actually make people in authority deal more effectively with this most awful of realities.

According to data cited by Erickson, murder is the third-leading cause of death among Indigenous women. Indigenous women confront murder rates that are 10 times the national average.

But often these cases fall off the radar. Erickson noted that of 5,712 murdered and missing Indigenous women (MMIW) cases reported in 2016, only 116 were logged by the Department of Justice.

Erickson, who is of Apache heritage on her father’s side, made “She Cried That Day,” a documentary film that delves into not only the stories of women who are victims, but also accounts of courageous women committed to getting justice for their daughters, sisters, cousins, friends, strangers.

“My hope is that the film reminds people there is so much work to be done,” Erickson said Monday during an interview in a Nob Hill coffee shop. “We need to ask questions, to hold people accountable — not just those who have committed crimes but also district attorneys and different government agencies.”

Erickson focused her film in New Mexico because Albuquerque and Gallup are among the top 10 cities with MMIW cases, but also because Indigenous women in the state are dedicated to battling the situation.

“There’s a kind of energy I felt here from Native women that just kind of took my heart,” she said.

But she found the soul of her film’s narrative in 2019 when she heard Christine Means tell the story of her sister to the first meeting of the New Mexico Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women and Relatives Task Force. Means’ sister, Dione Thomas, died after she was found bloody and unconscious in a Gallup motel room.

“As soon as I heard (Means) speak, I was blown away,” Erickson said. “She spoke in a way you were instantly drawn to her. She spoke with conviction, she was emotional, powerful. There was a lot of anger there, too.”

Open and vulnerable“She Cried That Day” is not complete. Erickson said it is in post-production, the final cut stage.

The film’s budget is $345,968 and $143,103 has yet to be raised. A fundraiser is set for 6-8 p.m. Thursday at the Harwood Art Center, 1114 Seventh NW.

Fundraiser hosts are LaDonna Harris, Comanche social activist and president of Americans for Indian Opportunity; Laura Harris, AIO executive director; and Brian Colón, former New Mexico state auditor and former chairman of the state Democratic Party.

American Indian actor and film producer Wes Studi is expected to attend the fundraiser as a special guest.

Erickson said a trailer of the documentary will be shown at Thursday’s event. Her goal is to have the film completed by September.

She intends to show a 90-minute version at film festivals and shorter versions, less than an hour, on public television. She would also like to show it at universities and high schools.

Dione Thomas died in 2015. The cause of her death remains unresolved. No one had been charged in the case.

Erickson said trying to get answers in cases such as Thomas’ is frustrating.

“There is momentum for a second, then stalling and then starting again from scratch,” she said. “(People are told) you need to start with this jurisdiction, this department. (It gets to) who do I even ask questions to. It weighs on you — just trying to get answers.”

Erickson said there is a film clip of Thomas in the movie.

“She is at a family party celebrating Christine’s college graduation,” Erickson said. “She gives a speech. She talked about how proud she was of Christine. She’s just funny and bright.”

She said Thomas’ family was completely open and completely vulnerable during the making of the documentary.

“One of the first filmings with the family was in Gallup while they were going through family pictures and laughing,” Erickson said. But the scene turns somber and leads to the dialogue that gives the documentary its title.

“We lost her. We did,” Debbie Begay, Thomas’ mother, says in the documentary. “Before we ever really lost her, we lost her.”

Begay then talks about the last time she saw Thomas.

“Dione never cried,” she said. “But she cried that day.”

Transformative

Erickson, 43, was born in Phoenix, but she grew up in Massachusetts, a long way from her father and her Apache heritage.

“People would say, ‘What are you?’” she said. “I would say, ‘I’m Apache, I’m Native.’ But I didn’t know what that meant.”

She worked as a production assistant on many and varied daytime TV talk programs and later did production for the Travel Channel, National Geographic and other similar channels. When she was about 35, she found herself in the same part of the country as her father and reconnected with him.

“He took me to a ceremony on San Carlos (Apache reservation in Arizona),” she said. “I could hear people singing even before we got there. Coming over the hill, I remember seeing the largest bonfire I had ever seen. He said, ‘You are home. You are related to everyone here.’”

She said the experience was transformative.

“I left a different person,” she said. “I felt a need to contribute to my (Native) community. All I had ever been was a TV producer.”

So, she made a documentary called “She Cried That Day.”

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