Klobuchar dined with Minnesota lawmaker just hours before she was killed
On Friday night, Sen. Amy Klobuchar was having dinner in her home state at an event with Melissa Hortman, the former speaker of the Minnesota House of Representatives who served as a lawmaker for almost 20 years.
Hours later, she was mourning the loss of a friend whom the Democratic senator had known for decades.
Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz called Klobuchar at 5 a.m. Saturday to deliver the gut-wrenching news, Klobuchar told POLITICO in an interview.
'I wish everyone had known her like we knew her,' Klobuchar said. 'I was there when she was doorknocking in the beginning. … I was in county office and she was seeking the legislative office.'
Hortman, 55, and her husband, Mark, were shot and killed in their Brooklyn Park, Minnesota, home early Saturday, in what authorities are saying was a politically motivated killing. The same suspect is believed to have also shot and wounded state Sen. John Hoffman and his wife. Authorities are continuing to search for the suspect, 57-year-old Vance Boelter.
In the early 2000s, Klobuchar recalled, Hortman was balancing not only serving as an elected official, but also leading a girl scout troop and teaching Sunday school at a local Catholic church. 'That ability to manage with two kids led her to do a really good job managing legislators,' Klobuchar said.
When Hortman was first elected in 2004 to Minnesota's House of Representatives, Klobuchar was five years into her role as County Attorney of Hennepin County — both on the outskirts of Minneapolis.
'She was pretty no nonsense,' the senator said. 'But in a kind way, with a lot of humor.'
Klobuchar mentioned one detail that particularly stood out to her: On her third day as speaker, Hortman turned off the mute button her predecessor used to prevent legislators from speaking — she didn't need it.
'She's like 'I don't need that. I can use the gavel,'' Klobuchar said. 'She was just such a skilled legislator at bringing people together.'
Hortman's killing only adds on to the growing amount of political violence and harsh rhetoric encapsulating American politics. 'There have been more and more people in politics who just throw gas on the fire,' Klobuchar said of the increase in divisive politics.
But these acts shouldn't dissuade people from seeking office, the senator said. 'We need more good people to run,' she said. 'I hope good people still run or our democracy won't stand.'
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Newsweek
40 minutes ago
- Newsweek
Vance Boelter's Friend Reveals More Details About Assassination Suspect
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. A friend of Vance Boelter, a suspect in the assassination of Minnesota Democratic state Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband on Saturday, has revealed his last message to him before the shooting. Boelter, 57, who was identified by police as a suspect in the shooting on Saturday, reportedly rented a room in the same Minneapolis home as David Carlson, and sent his friend a cryptic text message at 6 a.m. on the day of the incident. Boelter's listed address is in Green Isle, Minnesota, an hour's drive away. Newsweek has contacted the Minnesota State Patrol and Minneapolis Police Department for comment via email. Why It Matters Hortman and her husband, Mark, were pronounced dead Saturday morning after a gunman posing as law enforcement arrived at their home in the early hours and shot them both. The shooter, who remains at large, had targeted the home of another Democratic lawmaker, state Senator John Hoffman, shortly before the attack on the Hortmans. Hoffman and his wife Yvette were shot multiple times and have undergone surgery. Minnesota Governor Tim Walz called the shooting "a politically motivated assassination." What To Know Sitting on the porch of the house that he had shared with Boelter, Carlson read aloud a text message that he received from the suspect at 6 a.m. on Saturday. The text message, which Carlson read to reporters, said: "David and Ron, I love you guys. I made some choices, and you guys don't know anything about this, but I'm going to be gone for a while. "May be dead shortly, so I just want to let you know I love you guys both and I wish it hadn't gone this way. "I don't want to say anything more, I don't want to say anything more and implicate you in any way, because you guys don't know anything about this. But I love you guys and I'm sorry for all the trouble he has caused." A poster released by the FBI for Vance Boelter, a suspect in the shooting of Minnesota lawmakers on Saturday. A poster released by the FBI for Vance Boelter, a suspect in the shooting of Minnesota lawmakers on Saturday. FBI Carlson said that he had known Boelter since fourth grade, and that he was a loving person who did not seem like the type to carry out an assassination. "He was a loving caring guy, he loved his family, he loved his friends. He loved God. I don't know why he did what he did. It's not Vance, no one will believe this, no one that grew up with him, he had lots of friends, trust me. I wish I could have been there to stop him." Carlson told KARE 11that Boelter voted for President Donald Trump in the 2024 election, and that he was a "strong supporter." However, Carlson said that Boelter had not talked about politics recently, and that he had not given his friends any indication he had an interest in state-level politics or Minnesota lawmakers. There is no indication he is affiliated with a political party. Minnesota State Patrol said they had found "No Kings" flyers in Boelter's car, which refers to the thousands of demonstrations that took place throughout the United States on Saturday in protest of President Donald Trump's policies—in response, further protests across the state were canceled Multiple groups carried out demonstrations against Trump's administration and a military parade in Washington D.C. on Saturday, which was also the president's 79th birthday. Minnesota Flags at Half-Mast Walz announced that the flags on all state buildings would fly at half-mast to honor Hortman. Walz said on Saturday: "Minnesota's flags will fly at half-staff in honor and remembrance of Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman. She woke up every morning determined to make Minnesota a better place, and she will be greatly missed." What People Are Saying Minnesota Governor Tim Walz wrote in a statement posted to X, formerly Twitter: "Today Minnesota lost a great leader, and I lost a friend. A formidable public servant and a fixture of the state capital, Melissa Hortman woke up every day determined to make our state a better place. "She served the people of Minnesota with grace, compassion, and tirelessness. Minnesota's thoughts are with her loved ones, and my prayers are with Senator John Hoffman and his wife Yvette, who were shot and wounded and are being treated." What Happens Next The FBI announced on Saturday they are offering a reward of up to $50,000 for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Boelter. "Anyone with information about these shootings or Boelter's location should call the Minnesota Department of Public Safety's Bureau of Criminal Apprehension tip line at 877-996-6222 or email The public is asked to call 911 immediately if they see Boelter. Do not approach him."
USA Today
an hour ago
- USA Today
Reunited, a family bands together to care for a lost sister's kids
Chapter 3 | Reunited, a family bands together to care for a lost sister's kids A tragedy means Amy must take in her nieces and nephews. She and her sisters fight to give them a better childhood than they had. The last time Kay K called the older sister who raised her, she asked for help. 'I hated she had been through so much,' Marlena, 44, said. 'She would go from foster homes to the street to self medicating and being mentally unstable.' The 31-year-old was pregnant with her tenth child and wanted to straighten out her life. But she disappeared after that call. A few months later, her remains were found rolled in a rug on an overgrown Mississippi hillside. 'I know I can't save the world,' Marlena said. 'But I tried to save her.' Kay K's four sisters had hoped taking in eight of her kids would be temporary. That she'd stabilize enough to care for her children and be an aunt to theirs. But now, it was up to them to raise the nieces and nephews, ages 1 to 13, alongside their own daughters and sons. To protect the privacy of sensitive health and social information of minors too young to consent to having it appear online, USA TODAY used first names for adults and middle names for kids. USA TODAY does not name survivors of sexual assault. An estimated 2.4 million American kids are being raised by relatives, not their parents. Most 'kinship families,' or "grandfamilies," are formed suddenly, without planning. Grandmas, aunts, brothers and cousins take in young relatives amid crisis. When parents die from car wrecks or overdoses. When mom is jailed or loses the job that pays for rent. Sometimes, government child welfare agencies take kids from parents if social workers decide they can't provide basic needs and safety. An update to federal law in 2018 re-emphasized that agencies should provide the same assistance to relatives that is given to strangers who foster or adopt. Kids taken into foster care have better outcomes when raised within their family. Yet not all relatives are offered help to do so. And those who seek aid could instead be deemed unfit to parent. Amy, 37, had never planned to raise eight kids, four of whom are Kay K's. She is determined to keep the family together despite broken government promises and America's blind spot for kin caregivers. She doesn't want her nieces and nephews to lose family bonds like she did by growing up with strangers in foster care, living hundreds of miles from her sisters. 'If we'd had a family member that thought like that, we woulda never had to go to the shelter,' Amy said. 'It's a lonely life.' Kinship caregivers keep family together but don't get help they need A Mississippi couple took in a relative's kids to keep them out of the foster care system. They say parents like them deserve more support. Trying Kay K's sisters reported her to child welfare officials for neglect several times but saw no intervention. Marlena called the state hotline instead, after seeing her infant nephew left playing alone with a cup of water and an uncovered outlet. Kay K's three children went to a foster home in a city an hour away. Their mother had a breakdown and was committed. It was almost a year before Marlena convinced the children's caseworker to grant a family visit in a state office. She was shocked to see they were 'a mess.' The baby's diaper was full, and she was 'raw from front to back.' Makay, 4, had bright white scars on her head, neck and hand from severe burns sustained while in foster care. Soon after, a caseworker called on a Saturday and asked, Can you get the kids today? They arrived with a small duffel bag of clothes. Marlena took the girls. Amy cared for the boy. An official told the family that they could become licensed foster parents if they wanted to receive monthly assistance payments for the kids' care. Today, Mississippi pays between $750 and $5,600 a month to foster parents or group home companies, depending on age and therapeutic needs. The sisters decided they didn't need the cash or the headache of getting licensed. Their own experience with 'the system' as kids had been rough. Anyway, they were too busy with college and family to attend the infrequent, mandatory classes. 'I wasn't there for the money,' Marlena said. 'I was there for the kids.' Still, it would have helped. Marlena, a registered nurse, worked nights at the hospital five days a week. Amy was in nursing school and working part-time jobs. They lived near or below the federal poverty line for families with so many kids. When the kids needed clothes, or the grocery budget was a little tight, relatives, members of their church or a community nonprofit would help. Sometimes, after repeated calls, the kids' caseworker would take Amy to Walmart to buy necessities, like a car seat or diapers for a newborn. Around the same time, Mississippi officials had to change how the state foster care system handled relatives in response to a 2006 settlement that is still under court monitoring. The original lawsuit was filed on behalf of thousands of former foster youth. One of their complaints was that social workers placed kids with relatives without background checks and home-safety reviews. Because relatives weren't put through the licensing process, they had to care for children without the aid given to strangers who foster kids. Sometimes, case workers closed cases after a relative agreed to take in a child, lowering the official number of kids in state care by shifting the responsibility to unsupported families. Researchers call this diversion tactic 'hidden foster care.' Amy and Marlena were caught in an awkward transition as Mississippi began to change state policy. A couple years after taking in their nieces and nephews, Marlena received a letter telling her the kids would be taken unless she attended a training session in two days. They weren't licensed foster parents so they could not have their nieces and nephews. The child welfare agency issued a removal order a few days before Christmas. A judge, however, sided with the sisters. He said they needed to be given reasonable time to complete the training and home inspections. It took months, but they did just that. Now that they were licensed foster parents, the sisters began receiving foster board payments, which turned out to be less than the rates they saw posted. The kids stayed with family. For now. Licensed Many kinship foster parents say being licensed is a hassle and a risk. When the state has custody of kids, caseworkers and birth parents must sign off on decisions about education and health care. Legally, foster parents, including relatives, have the same power as babysitters. Often, each child has a separate caseworker, who is supposed to visit at least once a month. Sometimes other officials do, too. And then foster parents must schedule their lives around calls and case review meetings. Social workers seem to nitpick the kind of child safety locks on cabinets, how old kids must be to sleep in a top bunk and the rating of a fire extinguisher kept in the kitchen. Since 2023, federal rules have given states flexibility on some of these details when licensing relatives, but not all of them use it. As state officials placed more of her sister's kids with Amy, their apartment no longer met licensing standards for the number of children in each room. The paradox was frustrating. 'You requested I take in my niece and nephews,' she said. Being in the child welfare system also means kids could be taken away at any moment. About two years after starting to raise her sister's kids, Amy was told her license was at risk because of cockroaches at her apartment. Amy provided proof that the property manager had sprayed repeatedly at her request. But because of neighbors' uncleanliness, the bugs kept coming back. Still, caseworkers terminated her license and removed the kids – biological and fostered. To Amy, it was the same kind of faulty premise as the first time caseworkers removed her from home as a child. 'You're taking my children because I'm poor,' she said. 'I'm in public housing and there's roaches running around here. That's everywhere you go, pretty much. That's something you really don't have control over.' Luckily, state officials let the kids stay with an aunt. Amy lawyered up and got them back within two weeks. Stability Soon after, Amy bought her first house, moving in with her husband and seven kids. The 1,300-square-foot home had tan brick and four bedrooms. A garage was converted into extra living space. Three chest freezers lined the wall under the dining room window, stocked with food for the large sat on a large lot in a quiet neighborhood outside of town with mature trees and green lawns. An eighth child moved in about a year later. And Kay K's ninth kid stayed there after birth before being taken in by another relative. For years, the kids built family memories at this house. Makay, now 16, remembers the birthday when she came home from the skating rink with her friends to find a tent filling the living room. "We had pillows in there and drinks and all our snacks and all that," she said. For another birthday, she vaguely remembers Kay K, her biological mom, came to the house. She's not sure which birthday it was. She can't picture it. 'I don't really remember a lot about her,' she said. 'Amy is my mom. I really love her. 'She's been taking care of me and providing for me,' she said. 'Her and my dad have been trying to guide me.'Amy wanted to adopt her nieces and nephews. They deserved stability. After years of repeated delays, a state worker finally filed the court paperwork Amy had waited on. It wasn't what she expected. State officials had decided to terminate Kay K's parental rights for one child, but not the rest. At the time, she was alive and caseworkers hoped she might one day be prepared to parent. Amy decided not to waste more time under state supervision. The court agreed to release the kids from foster care, letting them live with Amy as their legal guardian. Caregiving This spring, Amy parked outside the garage-turned-office where she works seasonally as a tax preparer. Before going in, she planned the monthly budget in a notebook propped on her steering wheel. She would have to skip buying a costly lupus medication and risk an episode because the state had recently terminated the family's Medicaid coverage. Two teens who needed therapy might have to wait. It was on Amy's to-do list to visit the local office to sort out the issue. A few minutes after settling at her work desk, Amy received a call from Marlena about their mom. The woman had gone to the county courthouse to pick up routine paperwork. But the visit triggered her paranoid schizophrenia and she began yelling, making threats. She was detained and taken to the local hospital. Marlena said their mom would be sent to an out-of-town psychiatry facility unless she could quickly secure power of attorney. She needed Amy's help, including to make sure their mom's home was locked up while she was away. More: The caregiving crisis is real. USA TODAY wants to hear from you about how to solve it. Amy's phone dinged often. Her husband checking on how she was doing. The teen twins asking for a ride to get their nails done. Her oldest son, living on his own, talking about trouble finding work that paid enough to cover rent. The high school called about one of the boys. A resource officer had misinterpreted an autistic reaction, escalating a communication difference into a chase down the hall. Amy left work early to try to talk school officials out of suspending him. Home Back at home, dinner prep started. Amy dumped a package of cornbread mix into a plastic bowl while Bertram, 15, waited to add milk and stir. Lamar, 13, but just as tall as his cousin-brother, waited near the stove for water to boil so he could pour in three boxes of spaghetti. The teen twins had left early for a hair appointment. They had to look Gucci for their 18th birthday the next day and high school graduation in a few weeks. Ronald walked in from work and gave her a hug before going to shower and change. Makay, 16, and Nicole, 10, leaned on the kitchen island as they watched Nathaniel, 5, ham it up, waving his arms with oven mitts up to his elbows. We didn't have this growing up, Amy said when reflecting on the kids. The closeness. The dependability. Somebody to talk to. To lean on. 'I tell them all the time,' Amy said. 'You don't have anybody else. Rely on your brothers and sisters.' Amy was proud of the kids. They still had struggles. They were kids after all. Kids who had been through a lot in their short lives. She tried to pass on what she'd learned in college and therapy about brain development, healthy relationships and healing from trauma. Her kids have more stability than Amy had known. At about Nathaniel's age, a cop and caseworker took her from home into foster care. By Nicole's age, she had spent years apart from her sisters and had lived in many shelters and strangers' homes. She had just reunited with her family at Lamar's age, trying to build bonds with people she barely knew and starting to care for a nephew. Makay is a little younger than Amy was when she moved out of her sister's house to live on her own with her infant son and to attend college. Amy was glad to see her children have kid-sized problems: school gossip, playful digs at each other and requests for more snacks they could sell at school for a profit. 'That's all we ever want, if you have children: Them being able to be successful in life,' Amy said. 'That's my ultimate goal. That's what makes me happy. When they succeed, I succeed in what I was meant to do.' Amy sat in her computer chair and leaned back as she watched her kids spoon spaghetti onto paper plates. They all sat at the folding table or the island, eating together. Caring for Kin, Chapter 3: Rebuilding | Earlier: Chapter 1: Breaking | Chapter 2: Surviving This article was produced as a project for the USC Annenberg Center for Health Journalism's 2025 Child Welfare Impact Reporting Fund. Jayme Fraser is an investigative data reporter at USA TODAY. She can be reached on Signal or WhatsApp at (541) 362-1393 or by emailing jfraser@
2 hours ago
Manhunt continues for Minnesota shooting suspect Vance Boelter
Around 24 hours after police say a gunman killed a Minnesota state lawmaker and her husband, plus wounded another lawmaker and his wife, suspect Vance Boelter remains on the run, authorities have said. The shootings began around 2 a.m. Saturday, when Minnesota State Sen. John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, were both shot multiple times at their home in Champlin, Minnesota, authorities said. Soon after, State Rep. Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, were shot and killed at their home in Brooklyn Park. Police encountered the gunman leaving Hortman's house at around 3:35 a.m., the officers heading there to check on the lawmaker after responding to the earlier shooting at Hoffman's home. The suspect exchanged gunfire with police and was able to escape and flee on foot, authorities said. The FBI is "using every available resource to locate Vance Boelter," FBI Minneapolis Special Agent in Charge Alvin M. Winston Sr. said in a statement. The FBI is offering a $50,000 reward for information leading to Boelter's arrest. The 57-year-old suspect is alleged to have gained access to the victim's homes while posing as a police officer. Police believe that when the shooter opened fire, he was wearing a latex mask that looked realistic, sources said. Boelter -- a husband and father, according to an online biography -- has touted an extensive background in security and military training, according to an ABC News review of his online presence and professional history. Boelter helped lead the private security firm Praetorian Guard Security Services, which is based in the Twin Cities area, according to the company website. Dozens of Minnesota Democrats were on a target list written by the gunman, according to law enforcement sources. Those on the list included Gov. Tim Walz, U.S. Rep. Ilhan Omar, U.S. Sen. Tina Smith and state Attorney General Keith Ellison, according to law enforcement sources familiar with the matter. Police said the list -- which was retrieved from the suspect's vehicle, which looked like a police vehicle and had police lights -- also named Hortman and Hoffman. Both victims are Democrats and Hortman was formerly the Speaker of the Minnesota House of Representatives. The shooter's list of potential targets also included the names of abortion providers and pro-choice activists, several sources told ABC News. Many of the Democratic lawmakers on the list have been outspoken about pro-choice policy positions, two sources said.
