After almost two weeks of testimony in Palmer the state finished presenting evidence Wednesday alleging that Amy DeWitt, 43, and Greg Imig, 61, started the June 2015 blaze that burned over 7,000 acres and destroyed 55 homes.
DeWitt and Imig are each charged with a dozen counts related to starting the blaze, including second-degree negligent burning and three counts of reckless endangerment.
The reckless endangerment counts reflect the "substantial risk of serious physical injury" to Willow and Houston residents, fire and emergency personnel and residents whose homes were destroyed or damaged, according to charging documents in the case.
Victims of the fire have been testifying throughout the trial, with most taking the stand Tuesday and Wednesday.
Bob Chlupach was inside on the afternoon of June 14 when he got a call that a fire was spotted north of his home, he testified Tuesday.
He decided to drive out and see how the fire was growing. As he made his way back home, he stopped at a hill overlooking Little Willow Creek to get a better vantage point.
There he watched smoke billowing up on both sides of the road. The fire had jumped the highway.
He called his wife, musher Jan Steves, to tell her what was happening. Steves was out of state at the time, dealing with the sudden death of her son just days earlier.
Chlupach said when he told Steves the fire was approaching their home she started screaming.
"She literally had a meltdown, an absolute meltdown," he told the jury. "She was screaming enough that the neighbors adjacent to her son's apartment, they heard her."
Chlupach was able to get all of their 46 dogs out of the fire. He said one died in the dog truck as a result of heatstroke on the 80-degree day.
Marguerite Goodman had been working in her yard the day the fire started when she smelled smoke. She looked up and saw a giant black cloud overhead.
She testified Tuesday she and her two sons frantically packed up what they could. She loaded up her newly hatched chickens and waterfowl into a trailer she attached to a rarely used plow truck that needed a jump to start.
Knowing she couldn't evacuate her hog, she shot the animal as she left, she told the jury. The animal's house was completely burned in the fire.
Musher DeeDee Jonrowe testified about the first moments of the fire and how she scrambled to get home, even sneaking past a trooper barricade in her minivan in order to get to her house at Mile 73 of the Parks Highway.
A veteran of 35 Iditarod Sled Dog Races, Jonrowe said she lost all but one structure on her Willow property and nearly all of her belongings, except for several guns and expired passports she managed to grab in the evacuation.
When she was packing up her dogs she couldn't find her retired lead dog, Python. His charred corpse was later found on the property by another dog, Jonrowe told jurors Wednesday.
During the trial Wednesday, Assistant District Attorney Eric Senta showed jurors a picture of Jaimee and Justin High smiling next to half finished wall. It was the first wall they built following the destruction of their home in a December 2014 fire.
Senta then showed another photo of the house taken just days after the Sockeye fire started. There was nothing left except an ash-covered foundation.
The Highs have spent the last two years rebuilding. They said in an interview that their home is livable but still coming together.
There were just three trees left standing on the property after the fire, Justin High said. He thought they would survive, but they just remain dead and charred, with no signs of regrowth.
"We have to live with it," Jaimee High said Wednesday.
Chlupach, 68, said in an interview after testifying that his home is almost rebuilt, with some things still needing to be finished. Last summer he planted a row of white spruce trees along the edge of his property.
Now standing about 3 feet tall, those will eventually replace the perimeter of black spruce that once shielded his property from outside eyes.
He said living in the woods was one of his lifelong dreams. Now he lives among "charred toothpicks," which keep falling over in heavy winds.
Chlupach said he doesn't wake up depressed about how things have turned out, but he misses being able to walk out his front door and "commune with nature."
"I can live with the scenario," he said. "But it's not a scenario I'd choose."
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