In June, Minnesota suffered one of the worst political attacks in state history. House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband Mark were murdered in their home. That same night, State Senator John Hoffman and his wife Yvette were shot multiple times in theirs. They survived, but just barely.
The accused is Vance Luther Boelter, a 57-year-old Trump supporter with a record of extremist views. Prosecutors say he posed as a police officer, knocked on the Hoffmans’ door after midnight, and when Hoffman challenged him, forced his way in and opened fire. Both John and Yvette were hit repeatedly. Their daughter was there too. She was pushed aside but spared.
Boelter then drove to the Hortmans’ house. He murdered Melissa and Mark and left their dog gravely wounded. He was arrested after a statewide manhunt. Investigators found lists of other possible targets—Democratic lawmakers and abortion providers.
The spin machine
You might expect an attack like this to unite the country in grief and condemnation. Instead, the first reaction from some on the right was to spin it. Within hours, influential voices were claiming the killer was a Marxist, a leftist, maybe even a Democratic operative. Senator Mike Lee said so publicly. Donald Trump Jr. amplified the same line.
None of it was true. The accused was a Trump-voting conservative who opposed abortion rights. The claims were deliberate deflection—an effort to muddy the waters and shield their side from the stigma of political violence.
The uneven response
Governor Tim Walz called it what it was: targeted political violence. Senator Amy Klobuchar said the same, warning that threats against public officials aren’t abstract—they’re growing, and sometimes they explode.
President Trump said federal agencies were investigating and called the shootings “horrific.” But he didn’t lower flags to half-staff for Hortman. Later, he said he would have if asked, but no request had been made. That excuse rang hollow.
Just this week, pressed by a reporter, Trump pretended not to remember who Hortman was.
Months later, when conservative activist Charlie Kirk was assassinated, Trump lowered flags immediately and issued strong statements. The contrast couldn’t be clearer. Some lives drew official mourning. Others did not.
What gets remembered—and what doesn’t
The Hortman murders should have been a national turning point. Instead, outside Minnesota, the story slipped away. It didn’t dominate headlines, panels, or coverage.
What lingered was misinformation—false claims about a leftist attacker. By the time corrections spread, the moment was already fading from memory.
Contrast that with Kirk’s murder, which became a rallying cry overnight. Blame landed on liberals even before the suspect was identified.
Worse, Kirk’s murder is now being used to justify crackdowns. Trump officials talk about targeting “leftist organizations.” Steven Miller has even called for the Democratic Party to be labeled a terrorist group—despite the fact that the accused killer came from a conservative family in a conservative state and was obsessed, as his family is, with guns.
The imbalance in how political violence is framed has never been more obvious.
Why it matters
Political violence has been part of American life since the beginning—presidents assassinated, lawmakers shot, mobs attacking activists. What’s new is how openly people now excuse it, downplay it, or weaponize it for partisan gain.
When we only condemn violence against “our side,” we invite more of it. When we minimize attacks on officials because they belong to the other party, we send a message: some lives matter less. That is poison for democracy.
Melissa and Mark Hortman were murdered for politics. John and Yvette Hoffman were nearly murdered for the same reason. Forgetting—or rewriting—that truth guarantees more attacks ahead.
Note: My wife and I are traveling this week, so I won’t be able to record my usual voiceover for this article.