Domestic Violence

"It’s around 10 p.m. when I call a crisis worker for victims of domestic violence in remote Northern California," writes reporter Emily Cureton. "I’m panicking, 150 miles away in Oregon. I’m really afraid someone is going to get hurt tonight."

In rural California, the state says the solutions to domestic violence require a cultural shift, that entire communities must take responsibility for ending violence against women. Now, new programs on the ancestral lands of the Yurok Tribe are trying to do that.

Domestic violence breeds shame and fear, which often keeps the abused from seeking help. Shame and fear also feed family and social dysfunction, and violence can become a normal part of life, a curse that gets passed down from generation to generation.

Tracking domestic violence is difficult; more so in rural areas. But in California’s Del Norte County, these calls come into law enforcement agencies at a rate two-and-a-half times that of anywhere else in the state.

Even though people in California's Del Norte County have been reporting domestic violence at a staggering rate, most abuse is suffered in secrecy. That can make it easy to overlook the fact that Native American communities are disproportionately affected.

For some residents of Del Norte County in Northern California, domestic violence is a daily occurrence. The story of Tara Williams shows just how difficult it can be to find a way out.

Domestic violence is reported at a higher rate in Del Norte County than anywhere else in California. And experts say the number of convictions, arrests, and 911 calls reflects only a fraction of the actual violence and abuse taking place.

While Americans tend to think of sex trafficking as a problem that happens overseas, the United States is a major sex trafficking hub for obvious reasons—it's a rich country. An estimated 100,000 children in the U.S. are forced into the sex trade every year.

Twenty-one journalists from around the nation will receive reporting grants from the new Fund for Journalism on Child Well-Being, the Dennis A. Hunt Fund for Health Journalism and the National Health Journalism Fellowship.

Three-and-a-half-year-old Dylan was tiny, feisty and freckled with tousled blond hair. His mom brought him to the pediatric clinic because he had tried to smother his 2-week-old sister. She didn’t know what to do with him, and frankly neither did we. It was 5 p.m. and the clinic was closing.