Returning to Minnesota: A Journalist’s Journey Into a State in Crisis
February 1, 2026
I woke up this morning thinking, what am I doing? Am I really flying to Minneapolis today for only the fourth time since I moved away in 2011; once to celebrate Father’s Day with my son at a Twins game, once to take my dying friend Dave to the home opener of the Minnesota Wild, a tradition we enjoyed together for several years in the early 2000’s, and two other times for memorial services for friends. Four visits in 14 years and now I am drawn back to one of my hometowns that is going through massive upheaval, again.
The story is well-covered by traditional media and citizen journalists. So what will I add, if anything? I’ve confided in those closest to me that I might not find one story to report on that hasn’t been covered. And I refuse to just be another boot-on-the-ground repeating the same narrative. Over and over, my tribe has reassured me that I will find something new, something that will add to the narrative of Minneapolis, something that my experience, as a curious journalist, reinvented podcaster, and 17 year resident of Minnesota will uncover.
I have always said, “capture content and decide how to disseminate it later.” So that’s what I’m going to do. Even though I’m traveling alone, and see the story as so huge, I’m not quite sure how to find the narrow opening I’m looking for.
The morning had me walking the dog, smiling and talking to my partner, fielding a few texts from friends asking if I’m there yet, and receiving a vast array of texts and links from my lawyer brother covering everything from criminal defense attorneys he’s researched should I need them (I added their numbers to my contacts), to how to videotape ICE. From my partner, I received a steady stream of story suggestions. And from my son who wished me well and concern for my safety.
An Uber to Logan from a man from Brazil, I was not yet ready to spark my curiosity into action and ask him the obvious questions. A walk through a deserted Terminal E at Logan and two things struck me, each highlighting two distinct and counter calls to action. First, a 5-panel visual display titled “Welcome to America: A place of hope and new beginnings” with faces of immigrants from more than a hundred years ago to today. But 5 minutes later, after passing through the metal detector, a full blown message encouraging immigrants to self-deport, with an incentive of a free flight and $1,000 for EACH member of your family.” Attached were even two QR codes to get you started. I was still but managed to say to a TSA employee, “we’re living in some strange times.”
The long walk to Gate E and Minnesotans were clearly in the house with a fair share wearing sweatshirts with the state proudly displayed across the front. Four men who could have been hunters heading to the Midwest, but in these times, could easily pass for ICE agents. I couldn’t help but feel the weight and heaviness each and every one of these passengers was feeling in anticipation of traveling to Minnesota, which in and of itself is telling, since Minnesotans by nature are not known for expressing their feelings, at least not out loud.
I made it this far, with all of this packed inside me when I made it to the jetway. Now just two passengers away from getting on the plane, I heard a raised voice, the first of what I now feel will be many. It was a man who overheard someone refer to Minnesota as a military zone and chose, in a very non-Minnesotan way, to speak out and educate the person. I videotaped a few seconds, thinking, oh man, I’m starting to capture content and I’m NOT EVEN ON THE PLANE YET. Walking to our seats, I asked what happened. We exchanged names and cell numbers and shared quick bios. When I said I used to be the News Director at two Twin Cities TV stations and who’s headed back to cover the story, another traveler who was paying attention thanked me.
On board and waiting to take off, story ideas continued to stream in from my partner, legal concerns from my lawyer brother, and the reliable “wheels up, love you” between me and my son. And the fellow passenger, texted me that he has good connections in government, neighborhood organizations and social movements and invited me to join Signal, the private messaging app.
And in the time it has taken me to write this entry, “Brian” slid into the empty seat next to me and we started recording a podcast episode at 36,000 feet.
Art installation at Logan Airport celebrating immigrants to Boston and America.
Government flyer at Logan Airport encouraging immigrants to self-deport.