In the early hours of 14 June, Minnesota state senator John Hoffman and his family were woken by someone knocking at their door. Moments later, the visitor opened fire, shooting Hoffman nine times. His wife, Yvette, was also shot, after throwing herself on top of their daughter, Hope, to shield her from the bullets. Hope, who is in her 20s, managed to close and lock the door before calling 911.
Police quickly realised they were dealing with an attempted political assassination and raced to check on other legislators. As they approached the home of Representative Melissa Hortman, they spotted a man dressed like a police officer. He forced his way through Hortman’s door and killed her, her husband Mark, and their family dog.
The attacker – later identified as 57-year-old Vance Boelter – was wearing body armour, a realistic latex mask to disguise his face, and carrying identification that allowed him to pass as law enforcement. He fled the scene on foot but his car, modified to resemble a police cruiser, was later found nearby. Inside were notebooks listing potential targets and their addresses, among them Democratic lawmakers and abortion providers.
The shootings underline an escalation in vitriol and threats to safety that legislators from both the Democrat and Republican parties say they’re grappling with. The Observer has interviewed nine state lawmakers from across the country, all of whom reported receiving threats of violence from constituents, which they say is increasingly shaping the landscape of state politics. Major flashpoint issues include legislation on firearms, abortion and immigration, they said.
“It’s gotten to this point in society when legislators and others who are just trying to make a difference are risking their lives to do so,” said Connecticut state senator James Maroney, a Democrat.
Related articles:
Washington state senator Matt Boehnke, a Republican, said his staff have filed “a lot of reports” about threats at his office and town halls. “They talked about guns; they talked about bombs,” he said. “There are threats of ‘I know where you live, so I can come after you, and I can do things to your wife and kids’.”
Colorado state senator Lindsey Daugherty, a Democrat, recalled being targeted by gun-rights groups when she supported firearms bills.
“They put mine and some other legislative faces on their websites with a target on. So it’s certainly scary,” said Daugherty. “They threaten legislators a lot during committee meetings. They have put legislators’ photos on flyers and spread it through neighbourhoods.”
Several female legislators, including Daugherty, said the harassment had become so relentless that they had deleted their X, formerly Twitter, accounts in the past year.
“There is ample research that shows that brown women who are in elected office are more likely to be targeted and receive more threats of personal violence than any other group within elected office,” said Alaska state senator Löki Tobin, a Democrat who has received threats from both the left and the right. “I’m also 5ft 3in, brown, and a woman, so I carry bear mace. I’m aware of my surroundings, and I take my personal protection very seriously.”
While President Donald Trump initially issued a statement condemning the Minnesota shootings, his sentiments shifted over the following days. He lashed out at Minnesota governor Tim Walz, dismissing him as “a mess”, and said that calling him to offer condolences for the attacks would be a “waste of time”.
Several legislators pointed to Trump and the surge of Maga politics as a driving force behind today’s rising political tensions. They argue that its confrontational style and polarising rhetoric have created a climate in which the normalisation of violence and threats against public officials are more likely to thrive. The president has not been immune to such violence himself, surviving two assassination attempts during his campaign rallies last year.
“The president bullies and belittles. And I think when people see that the leader of the country is acting in that way, they feel empowered to act in that way,” said Maroney.
The Democratic legislators interviewed highlighted the 6 January 2021 attack as an accelerant for the threats they now face. The siege of the US Capitol, they said, set a precedent for political violence being treated as legitimate political expression. After Trump described the assault as a “day of love” and praised the rioters as “warriors”, he went further by issuing pardons to individuals convicted or awaiting trial on insurrection-related charges.
At the same time, his allies moved to purge federal prosecutors and FBI agents involved in the investigations – a signal, lawmakers argue, that accountability for political violence was being dismantled from the top.
“Part of the reason why we’re here is because there’s no civil dialogue any more, and the president of the United States has made it clear that if you commit this type of violence on his behalf, he’ll pardon you,” said Representative Greg Scott, a Democrat from Pennsylvania.
The White House did not respond to a request for comment.
While the divide between Republicans and Democrats has never been sharper in DC, state politics are often more collaborative. “A lot of the mundane stuff we do never makes the news. In our state, we work together very well,” said Senator Stephen Meeks, a Republican from Arkansas. “All the public sees from the media is the fighting, and they don’t get all the information, then that tends to fan those flames of discontent, which leads into a lot of the issues that we see.”
Hortman, who was the speaker of Minnesota’s House of Representatives from 2019 to January this year, embodied the ethos of reaching across the political divide, her colleagues said. At the National Conference of State Legislatures in Boston this month, Representative Lisa Demuth, a Republican, recalled how Hortman reached out to her immediately after she was elected minority leader in 2022. Hortman proposed they hold weekly meetings to build a working relationship, despite their ideological differences, she said.
“She didn’t have to do that. She could have easily dismissed me as just another member of the minority party,” said Demuth, who succeeded Hortman in the speaker role and also counted her as a friend. “Often we were miles apart on policy, but that never got in the way of seeing the humanity in each other.”
Amid the growing hostility lawmakers face, many noted that the majority of their constituents are primarily focused on more immediate needs, such as the economy and the basic challenges of daily life.
“When I was door-knocking and talking to constituents, most people didn’t care whether you're an ‘R’ or a ‘D’. They want to know if they can send their kids to college, or whether they can buy food. They want to know if they’re going to have a job next year,” said Daugherty. “Those are the types of issues that Americans want solved, not the really partisan politics that’s happening at the federal level. Americans just want to live their lives.”
The murder of Melissa Hortman also changed the balance of power in Minnesota, which was an evenly divided legislature. Since Hortman died, the Republicans now have a one-seat majority in the state. This has raised concerns in other states about experiencing something similar.
‘I carry bear mace. I’m aware of my surroundings and I take my personal protection seriously’
Alaska state senator Löki Tobin
“We are all told by our legal advisors not to release our schedules any more in Pennsylvania, because if they take one of us out, it brings the chamber to a halt,” said Scott. The Democrats have a one-seat majority in Pennsylvania. “We post [on social media] about events after we’ve been there. It has been a significant challenge for me to change the way in which I operate. I need to be accessible to people. They may be able to ask me questions, and not behind a bulletproof glass.”
Scott, who is black, has been subjected to racial abuse as well as threats from his constituents. “I was at a Dunkin’ Donuts with my son recently, and someone came up to me and put their hand in my face and yelled at me in front of my child,” he said.
The threat of political violence in the aftermath of the Minnesota attacks has greatly impacted Scott’s family life. His children cannot host their friends for playdates at their house as Scott does not want to disclose their address to others. The family has held security drills at home, and Scott has had conversations with his children about not disclosing their whereabouts or vacation plans.
Many state legislators say the growing hostility is redefining politics, and is a determining factor in who is willing to run for office. More moderate candidates are increasingly hesitant to step forward, while legislators may also be deterred from supporting bills that could provoke backlash and threats from sections of society, said some of those interviewed.
“A lot of good people who I think would make great legislators are dissuaded from running for office because of all the junk you’ve got to put up with,” said Meeks.
In their absence, Meeks added, the political space is increasingly dominated by firebrands. “It’s being filled by people who may be more extreme, who push that in ways that can be to the detriment of our communities.”
For some legislators, the lurch towards more combative approaches threatens the ideals that drew them into public service. Many said they are unsure how to restore the sense of comity that once guided their work.
“It’s hard to comprehend to me how backwards things have gone, and everyone is worse for it,” said Daugherty, whose first role in politics was campaigning for Barack Obama. “I got involved with Obama because of his message of hope, and I was just so proud at that moment. I wish we could get back to that.”
Photograph by Stephen Maturen/Getty