“When the Badge Is a Mask: White Violence, Political Terror, and the Cost of Silence”

On a quiet June morning in Minnesota, the illusion of safety shattered.

State Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, were assassinated in their Brooklyn Park home. Just hours earlier, State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, were shot multiple times in their Champlin residence. Both couples were targeted by a man who wore the uniform of trust—a police vest, a badge, a Taser—and carried the intent of terror.

The gunman, Vance Luther Boelter, 57, was no stranger to public service. A former appointee to the Governor’s Workforce Development Council and a security contractor, Boelter used his knowledge of law enforcement to orchestrate what officials now call a “politically motivated assassination”2.

He stalked his victims like prey. He drove a black SUV outfitted with police lights. He wore a hyper-realistic mask. He knocked on doors claiming to be an officer responding to a shooting. And when those doors opened, he opened fire.

Melissa and Mark Hortman died in their home. The Hoffmans survived after emergency surgery. Their daughter’s quick call to 911 may have saved countless lives.

Authorities found a manifesto in Boelter’s vehicle—a hit list with nearly 70 names, including abortion providers, lawmakers, and activists across multiple states. This wasn’t random. It was ideological. It was white violence, cloaked in authority, fueled by grievance, and executed with chilling precision.

Why Did It Take So Long?

Despite early warnings and a shootout with police, Boelter evaded capture for nearly two days. He fled on foot, ditching his weapon, body armor, and mask behind the Hortman home. The manhunt—described as the largest in Minnesota history—involved local police, the FBI, and federal marshals. He was eventually found near his rural property in Green Isle, Minnesota, after a neighbor spotted him on a trail camera2.

The delay in apprehension raises painful questions: How does a man with a known political agenda, military-style gear, and a fake police cruiser slip through the cracks? What systems failed to flag his radicalization? And why is it so hard to name this for what it is—domestic white terrorism?

A Pattern, Not an Anomaly

This is not an isolated incident. Over the past five years, white supremacist violence has surged. From the 2022 Buffalo supermarket massacre to the 2023 Jacksonville shooting targeting Black shoppers, the pattern is clear: white grievance, often masked as patriotism, is metastasizing into political violence.

According to the Pew Research Center, public support for racial justice movements has declined since the 2020 murder of George Floyd—ironically, also in Minnesota. DEI programs have been rolled back. Extremist rhetoric has gone mainstream. And many Americans now express doubt that Black people will ever achieve equal rights.

This erosion of empathy is not accidental. It is the soil in which white violence grows.

The Cost to Community

Minnesota is grieving. Flowers and flags now mark the Capitol steps. Children are asking why someone dressed like a protector became a predator. And lawmakers are wondering if their names are on the next list.

But this isn’t just about Minnesota. It’s about a nation that refuses to confront the violence it breeds. A nation where white men with guns are too often seen as “troubled” instead of “terrorists.” A nation where the badge can be a mask—and the silence, complicit.

Call to Action: Name It. Confront It. Dismantle It.

  • Name it: This was white domestic terrorism. Say it.
  • Confront it: Demand accountability from law enforcement and elected officials.
  • Dismantle it: Support policies that track and prosecute hate crimes with the same urgency as foreign threats.

We cannot heal what we refuse to name. And we cannot protect our future if we keep rewriting our past.

Melissa and Mark deserved more. The Hoffmans deserve justice. And our communities deserve the truth.

Middle East or East Africa?

The term “Middle East” is a relatively modern construct, coined by Western powers to describe a region that has long been a crossroads of civilizations. Historically, this area was often referred to as part of Africa, particularly the northeastern part of the continent. The name “Middle East” itself is a Eurocentric term that reflects the geopolitical interests of colonial powers rather than the cultural and historical realities of the region.

The people who have historically inhabited this land are diverse, with rich and varied cultures that have evolved over millennia. However, the arrival of European colonial powers in the 19th and 20th centuries brought significant changes. These powers imposed new borders, often disregarding the existing ethnic, cultural, and historical ties of the indigenous populations.

The colonial era saw the displacement of many indigenous peoples and the imposition of foreign rule. European settlers and administrators often claimed the land as their own, disregarding the rights and histories of the original inhabitants. This led to a loss of cultural heritage, as colonial powers sought to impose their own values and systems of governance.

In many cases, the occupiers appropriated the cultural symbols and practices of the indigenous peoples, often without acknowledgment or respect. This cultural theft has had lasting impacts, as the original cultures have been marginalized and their contributions to the region’s history and identity have been overlooked.

Today, the legacy of colonialism continues to shape the Middle East. The borders drawn by colonial powers have led to ongoing conflicts and tensions, as different groups struggle for recognition and autonomy. The cultural heritage of the region’s original inhabitants is still at risk, as modern political and social dynamics continue to marginalize their voices.

In conclusion, the term “Middle East” is a misnomer that reflects a colonial perspective rather than the true history and identity of the region. The people who have historically lived in this land have a rich and diverse cultural heritage that has been overshadowed by the legacy of colonialism. It is important to recognize and honor the contributions of these original inhabitants and to work towards a more inclusive and accurate understanding of the region’s history.