MINNESOTA REMAINS A STATE in mourning over the assassinations of State Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, nearly two weeks ago. Today the couple, and their golden retriever, Gilbert, also killed in the shootings, will lie in state inside the Capitol rotunda from noon to 5 p.m. The public can pay their respects in this building where Melissa served as speaker of the House and worked across the aisle to pass legislation in a divided legislature. Private funeral services are set for Saturday.
In this moment, on this day, I hope politics and differences can be set aside to honor and remember Melissa and Mark as loving parents, neighbors, friends and colleagues. Human beings who were gunned down in their home during the early morning hours of Saturday, June 14, by a man impersonating a police officer.
The tragedy of their deaths and the shootings of Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, also inside their home on the same morning by the same man, have left an indelible mark upon Minnesota, a place where we are known for our “Minnesota Nice.” I think we’ve lost some of that in the current divisiveness within our state and country.
But it is the Hortmans’ adult children, Sophie and Colin, who have circled us back to what really matters. In a statement released days after their parents’ murders, the siblings, among other things, called for this:
“Hope and resilience are the enemy of fear. Our parents lived their lives with immense dedication to their fellow humans. This tragedy must become a moment for us to come together. Hold your loved ones a little closer. Love your neighbors. Treat each other with respect and kindness. The best way to honor our parents’ memory is to do something, whether big or small, to make our community just a little better for someone else.”
Let’s take a closer look at some of their words. First, hope. It’s one of my favorite words because it represents the promise that things will get better. It’s not only a noun, but a verb.
Next, resilience represents strength, bouncing back from something devastating, hard, tragic. It’s possible to be resilient, especially with the support of others. I hope Sophie and Colin Hortman feel the collective support of Minnesotans. We need to lean into and on each other in this moment.
The two are asking us to come together. I’ve seen that happen after this tragedy with politicians jointly expressing their condolences and outrage over the assassinations. I hope that cohesiveness lasts. But I doubt it will. Yet, that doesn’t mean we can’t strive individually and collectively to listen, to compromise, to see each other as individuals with the same basic needs. People who laugh and cry and live and love. Separately and together.
In honor of their parents, Sophie and Colin ask us to love, to treat each other with respect and kindness. It’s really not that hard to practice all three. We are each capable of choosing love over hate. We are capable, too, of respecting others. Choose words that uplift rather than belittle. Choose words that are nice, not mean. Choose words carefully, thoughtfully. And treat others with compassion and care. Simply be kind.
Today, as we mourn the senseless deaths of Melissa and Mark Hortman, I am grateful to their children for reminding all of us how to live our lives. In their grief, Sophie and Colin show us what we can and should be. Loving, kind, respectful. And nice.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
In which I protest, grieve & reflect June 19, 2025
Tags: America, assassination, commentary, government, grief, June 14, Minnesota, mural, news, NO KINGS protest, Northfield, protest, protest signs, reflections, Rep. Melissa Hortman, Sen. John Hoffman, thoughts, United States
I LEANED MY HEAD against Randy’s shoulder, my left hand gripping the rod of a protest sign and a small American flag. I felt such profound sadness in that moment. The moment when a pastor asked for a period of silence in honor of Minnesota State Representative/House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, assassinated in their home during the early morning hours of June 14.
Flag Day. Nationwide NO KINGS protest day. A day of gathering turned tragic here in Minnesota.
I alternated between leaning into my husband and leaning my bowed head against the bottom of my NO MORE KINGS protest poster held high, the sign with the cursive words, “I value freedom,” scrawled on the back side. The wind blew, swept my hair across my face like a veil covering sadness. The heaviness felt palpable here, in Ames Park in Northfield, along the banks of the Cannon River. But so did the energy.
We were a group of hundreds—maybe even a thousand (I’m not good at estimating crowd size)—gathered to publicly express our concerns about leadership in this country, about decisions being made that negatively affect all of us, about the state of and future of our democracy… It was my first protest. Ever. I wanted, needed, to be here. To remain silent seems complicit.
I’d already arrived when a friend texted that Minnesotans had been advised by state law enforcement not to attend NO KINGS protests. That warning linked to the suspect in the shootings of the Hortmans and of State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette. We would later learn that NO KINGS fliers were found in the vehicle of Vance Boelter, now accused in the double murders and attempted murders.
That explained why, on the way to the riverside protest, I overheard a woman telling a couple that her police officer son had advised her not to participate in the rally. She was going home. I was not. Nor were any of the others converging on Ames Park at noon. I wasn’t scared. Vested safety people, trained in conflict resolution and de-escalation, were in place. I felt safe in the masses, which, I suppose, is an unrealistic perspective. But I refuse to be silenced by fear, by the words and actions of those who attempt to suppress voices. And intimidate.
And there were those, including the drivers of a white pickup truck and of motorcycles which repeatedly roared past the rally site, spewing their opposition in noise and in political flags bannering messages I won’t repeat. But they, too, have a right to protest. Peacefully. Just as I do. And I wrote that on the back of a second sign: FREE to PROTEST. But, mostly, passing vehicles honked in strong support.
At this rally of people opposing the current administration and its policies and actions, I felt a unity of purpose and a deep, cohesive concern for the future of our country. I felt uplifted, embraced, empowered. Speakers spoke (although I couldn’t hear most). The pastor led us in prayer. We sang—”The Star Spangled Banner” and “We shall overcome.” We cheered. We chanted. We waved our posters and flags. And a group held an over-sized American flag, which I couldn’t see from my vantage point deep in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
We were mostly an older group. Baby Boomers. Grandparents. Even octogenarians. Perhaps some protested during the Vietnam War. Or served this country. We’ve lived a few years, enough decades to understand that we need to rise up against authoritarianism. Enough to understand what’s at stake. But there were some young people, too, like the dad behind me with his preschool daughter playing in the grass. He clearly cares, if not for himself, but then for his child.
The morning after the NO KINGS protest, I left for Madison, Wisconsin, to spend time with my 5-month-old grandson (and his parents). As I snuggled Everett, I thought, he (and my other two grandchildren) are part of the reason I chose to protest. Their lives stretch before them. I want them to live in a country where they are free. Free. I want them to live under a government based on a three-pronged system of checks and balances, not one ruled by a king or some version of a king or dictator. I want them to live in a kind, caring and compassionate country. Not a selfish, uncaring, divisive nation filled with hatred.
I returned to Minnesota yesterday and am catching up on laundry and writing. And, along with my fellow Minnesotans, I’m collectively grieving the assassination of an elected official and her husband. And I’m thinking, this is what it’s come to in Amercia…
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling