This week, Minnesota crossed a line no democracy should ever tolerate.
Speaker of the House Melissa Hortman was murdered. Senator John Hoffman was shot.
Two public servants—targeted not for corruption or scandal, but simply for doing the jobs they were elected to do.
This wasn’t just a personal tragedy. It was a five-alarm fire for democracy. And if we don’t treat it that way—if we allow violence to replace dialogue—we risk losing everything that makes civic life possible.
As someone deeply involved in cannabis and hemp advocacy, who works with lawmakers and hires a lobbyist for my own business to ensure small businesses are heard—I felt this in my gut. Because this wasn’t just an attack on two leaders. It was an attack on all of us who dare to speak up, show up, and engage in the public square.
Senator Hoffman Toured My Facility — This Should Never Have Happened
I had the honor of hosting Senator John Hoffman at my hemp business.
He walked through our facility, met my team, and took time to ask real, thoughtful questions about the cannabis industry—not just from a policy perspective, but from the lived experience of those building it from the ground up. He wasn’t there to posture. He was there to learn.
“He has a good heart. He listened. He cared. He showed up.”
So when I heard that he had been shot in his own home, simply for holding public office, my stomach dropped. That’s not discourse. That’s not passion. That’s a direct assault on democracy.
This is the moment we must say, clearly and collectively: this is not normal—and it never will be.
This Violence Didn’t Come Out of Nowhere
This kind of extremism doesn’t happen in isolation. It’s the result of years of rising hostility, tribalism, and demonization of people who simply engage in public life.
I’ve seen it firsthand.
During the debate over HF100, Minnesota’s adult-use cannabis bill, I spoke out—not against legalization, but against the bill itself. I believed it was rushed, poorly constructed, and not ready for prime time.
For taking that stance, I received death threats.
Let me be clear: this post is not about me. This is about showing people—especially those not in this world—what it’s like to be an advocate in Minnesota today. This is what we face simply for engaging in public policy.
“I was threatened, harassed, mocked, and slandered—not because I opposed legalization, but because I believed we deserved a better bill.”
Fake reviews started flooding my business. I was smeared on Reddit, called anti-legalization, and defamed for holding a different opinion.
Someone mailed me a pair of panties.
I received a handwritten, anonymous letter in my mailbox saying I was “going to marry another woman.”
I was targeted, slandered, and ridiculed—not for harming anyone, but for participating in the legislative process.
And just this week, after I posted in the Minnesota Cannabis Networking Facebook group calling it a “sad day for Minnesota,” I received laughing emojis—along with other hurtful, cold-hearted comments.
“It was a moment that made one thing painfully clear: some people have lost their sense of basic humanity.”
This is what happens when we stop seeing people as people—and start seeing them only as enemies with the wrong opinion. We can’t let that mindset fester.
I Hire a Lobbyist — I Shouldn’t Have to Worry It’ll Get Someone Killed
As a business owner in the hemp and cannabis space, I hire a lobbyist for my company. Someone who helps us navigate legislation, meet with lawmakers, and advocate for thoughtful, inclusive policy that protects entrepreneurs and small operators like us.
And I shouldn’t have to worry that doing that—engaging in the political process—could put someone’s life in danger.
“No one should fear violence just for participating in the system we’re told to believe in.”
Whether you’re a lawmaker, lobbyist, advocate, or citizen—you should be able to do your job without looking over your shoulder.
This isn’t just about cannabis. It’s about democracy.
It’s Bigger Than Cannabis—It’s About Every Advocate in This Country
Whether you’re fighting for cannabis reform, LGBTQ+ rights, religious freedom, pro-choice protections, or any cause you care about—you should never have to worry that someone might try to kill you because of your viewpoint.
“No lawmaker, lobbyist, activist, or citizen should fear that engaging in democracy could cost them their life.”
This is a moment of reckoning. We either recommit to protecting civil dialogue and peaceful advocacy—or we continue to let the rot spread.
Look at Mexico. Look at Venezuela.
If you think this can’t happen here, look again.
In Mexico, political candidates are murdered regularly—sometimes before the ballots are even printed. Lobbyists, advocates, and journalists are also targeted and killed, simply for being part of the political process.
In Venezuela, dissent is punished with prison or disappearance. Those who push for reform, transparency, or accountability are treated like enemies of the state.
This is what happens when violence replaces debate. It doesn’t happen all at once. It starts with threats. Then mockery. Then bullets.
We are on that slope. And whether we fall depends entirely on how seriously we take moments like this one.
To Speaker Hortman and Senator Hoffman
To Speaker Melissa Hortman: your leadership helped steer Minnesota through complexity and controversy. You were more than your politics—you were a public servant. You deserved to live out your life in peace. We honor you, and we mourn with your loved ones.
To Senator John Hoffman: keep up the fight. We are praying for your healthy recovery, along with your wife’s. You both have shown so much courage—and there’s no doubt someone is watching over you from above.
To the Advocacy Community: Don’t Go Quiet
To everyone out there doing the work—organizing, writing, showing up at hearings, hiring lobbyists, running businesses, testifying: don’t stop.
I know this moment is scary. I know it might feel safer to step back.
“But if we let fear dictate who gets to participate, we give the loudest, most extreme voices full control.”
We protect democracy not by shrinking, but by standing up—even when it’s hard.
Whether you’re pushing for cannabis reform or fighting for any cause that matters, keep going. Keep showing up. The only way we lose is if we go silent.
To Everyone Else: This Is the Line
This is no longer about red vs. blue. This is about whether we are still a society that allows disagreement without violence.
“You don’t have to agree with someone’s policy to respect their right to live.”
If you laugh at shootings… if you minimize political violence… if you stay silent while leaders are hunted in their own homes—then you’re not “staying neutral.” You’re helping the rot grow.
We can’t afford that anymore.
The Work Continues — And So Must Our Compassion
I’m not going anywhere.
I will continue advocating for the cannabis and hemp industry. I will continue engaging with lawmakers. I will continue fighting for smart, inclusive policy. Because I believe in free speech, in civil discourse, and in the power of peaceful advocacy to create change.
“Let this be the moment we said: not here, not now, not ever again.”
And to every lawmaker, advocate, and lobbyist who has been affected by this tragedy:
Take time to mourn. Take time to reflect.
But also take time to think about what we can do to protect our public servants, our advocates, and each other.
We need to stop adult bullying, stop the personal attacks, stop the threats, and end the violence. Be kind to your neighbors. It’s okay to disagree—but do it with respect.
Because at the end of the day, no matter our politics or profession, we all came into this world the same way: through a mother and a father. We all have families. We all belong to communities. And we all deserve to live—and speak—without fear.
