After one of the darkest days in state history, Minnesotans wonder: Is this who we are now?

Inside the Church of St. Timothy in Blaine, where decades ago Minnesota House DFL Leader Melissa Hortman was baptized and received First Communion, parishioners gathered Sunday under stained glass and a crucifix, bowed their heads and recited a plea for peace.

Twenty-four hours after news of the murders of Hortman and her husband shocked Minnesota and the nation, some in the Catholic congregation still felt unsafe. As the congregation mourned, the killer still remained at large, the subject of an enormous manhunt until he was taken into custody late Sunday. Father Joe Whalen told parishioners that even amid the sorrow, they must avoid the divisiveness that can provide a canvas for violence.

“Remember you have the opportunity to create bridges, not destroy them,” Whalen said. “Remember that your words have impact. Remember those words can create within the heart of another person the opportunity to grow in the love of God and in compassionate understanding, or to set the stage for more misunderstanding and violence.”

Across Minnesota, the shock of Saturday’s killings of Hortman and her husband, and the attempted assassinations of state Sen. John Hoffman and his wife, gave way to grief by Sunday.

American flags at the State Capitol and statewide were at half-staff. Father’s Day celebrations were tinged with talk of politics, fear and morality.

Many turned inward and wondered: Is this really who we — as Minnesotans, as Americans, as citizens of one of the world’s oldest democracies — have become?

“The tenor of our country has changed in the last decade and has really made violence more likely to happen,” said Erika Young, an Edina attorney who attended Saturday’s “No Kings” rally in St. Paul. “There’s a demeanor in our country that makes rage encouraged.”

When Bill Doherty saw the news Saturday, the first words that came to mind were: “It’s come to this.”

Doherty, co-founder of Braver Angels, a nationwide nonprofit that works to bridge America’s partisan divide, wasn’t shocked that political violence came to Minnesota, especially after last year’s assassination attempt against President Donald Trump and 2022’s attack at the home of then-U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi.

“Is this going to become our new normal?” Doherty asked. “Every election, even the election of Supreme Court justices in Wisconsin, is viewed as life or death, the end of our democracy. Why would somebody not be moved to violent action and feel they’ll be a hero — and to some, sadly, yes, be a hero?

“Increasingly inflammatory rhetoric sets the stage for some people to take it to the next step.”

Minnesota’s reputation for good government, civil discourse and polite disagreement has long been overstated. Yet as the initial shock of the deaths transformed into somber reflection, some held hope that the killings would help to break, or maybe just cool, our partisan fever.

Minnesota Secretary of State Steve Simon, a law school classmate and colleague of Hortman, said casting blame on a political party after this type of event is not helpful.

“Try where we can to take the temperature down,” he said. “Talk about ideas and outcomes more and about people less. And police our own.

“It’s very easy for someone on one side of the political spectrum to call out unnecessarily inflammatory language on the other side. It’s a heck of a lot harder to call it out when it’s on your own side. If we can police the people on our own political orbit, that can make a difference.”

Jake Loesch, executive director of the Citizens League, a nonpartisan civic engagement organization, agreed.

“This us-vs.-them war mentality, that’s where a lot of my deepest concern is,” he said. “With increasingly aggressive rhetoric, these things are going to continue to happen. This should be a wake-up call for us that we’ve let this thing go too far.”

In the quiet bedroom communities of Champlin and northern Brooklyn Park where the shootings took place, residents remained rattled Sunday, Champlin Mayor Ryan Sabas said.

At a local restaurant Saturday night, Sabas said, the attacks were the talk of every table. Anxiety reigned, as Champlin shut down a carnival and canceled Saturday’s Father Hennepin Festival. The community was on “pins and needles” about Hoffman and his wife, Sabas said.

“It’s been said since the assassination attempt on our president that we need to tone down the rhetoric,” he said. “I don’t think it’s actually happening.

“Now, (for) folks in every suburban city across America, this has opened their eyes to, wow, this can happen in any town. We need to pause and focus on what matters.”

For much of Saturday, residents of a Brooklyn Park neighborhood midway between Hortman’s and Hoffman’s homes remained locked down. After the shelter-in-place order was lifted, Eric Johnson headed to a neighbor’s for a graduation party. It felt therapeutic.

Johnson’s sister is state Sen. Ann Johnson Stewart. He worried about her safety, and the country’s, too.

“It’s not who 99.99% of us are,” Johnson said. “It’s unfortunate the rhetoric has gotten to the point where hyperbole is no longer seen as hyperbole. When that happens, the conversations stop.

“Is it going to take a tragedy to bring us together?”

Out for a long walk Sunday near downtown White Bear Lake, Karol Durdle had a similar question. “How do we come back from the precipice as a country?” she wondered, her voice breaking.

Rob Ketterling, lead pastor at River Valley Church, a conservative Assemblies of God congregation in the Twin Cities suburbs and one of Minnesota’s largest churches, was keeping a close eye on the news while on vacation in Florida.

He said he hates how blame is often assigned to a political party or religion in the immediate aftermath of violence.

“The remedy is never violence — never, no matter how heated someone gets,“ Ketterling said. ”We have to remind everyone of that.

“No matter who this guy’s affiliations are with, I’m going to highly doubt there’s any teachings of violence by whatever religious or political group he’s part of.”

For some, Minnesota’s rage and grief led to another feeling: a commitment to do better.

Phil Brooks was headed to a Father’s Day brunch with his adult children Sunday at Taste of Scandinavia.

Saturday’s darkness remained on the Vadnais Heights resident’s mind. But so did the joy of a family day. Today’s raw emotions, he said, can bring tomorrow’s opportunity.

“What is the story of how we behaved and resolved this and found our common humanity?” he said. “If people think about that a little bit, it can get better.”