A campaign targeting gillnetters takes class war to the Columbia River.
Ihander lets the dying salmon fall to the deck, two thin strands of mesh still snagged around its gills, a dime-sized dab of blood below its eye.
“Nice fish there,” Ihander says. “Six dollars a pound, 17 pounds, $100 bill.”
The salmon’s tail slaps the deck one last time before it turns into money.