Allison Lussier’s death was suspicious. Her family says Minneapolis police didn’t fully investigate.

The locks needed to be changed — again. He was outside.

Allison Lussier’s on-again, off-again boyfriend had returned to the North Loop apartment complex where she lived in Minneapolis. He appeared to be watching the property.

“He’s really gotten scarier,” Lussier texted her sister, Nicole. She relayed how the man had become more erratic, talking to himself and debating aloud whether to hurt her. Days earlier, she’d run to a neighbor for help, wearing only underwear, after he choked her so hard that red lines belted her neck.

Leaving the apartment that night was no longer an option. Nicole made her sister promise to stay in touch.

“If I don’t, then know he got me,” Lussier, 47, wrote last February, according to messages obtained by the Minnesota Star Tribune.

Five days later, a caretaker discovered her decomposing body.

A year after Lussier’s death, family and friends are still fighting for answers, haunted by the notion that she succumbed to a domestic killing — and that authorities didn’t do enough to prevent it.

Police say the case remains unsolved because her manner of death could not be determined. In recent months, it has emerged as a political litmus test in City Hall as council members pushed for transparency from the police department.

“There is only one person who wanted her dead,” said Theresa Durst, the former apartment caretaker who found Lussier and immediately identified Charles H. Foss to police as a suspect. “They didn’t hear my words.”

Foss was never charged. His attorney says he is innocent.

In a joint interview, Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara and Deputy Chief of Investigations Emily Olson defended the department’s handling of the case, saying that evidence collected from the scene pointed to drug use rather than overt signs of violence.

“We cannot prove that this is a murder,” Olson said. “The fact that he had a history of domestic abuse does not create probable cause.”

O’Hara acknowledged, however, that dissatisfaction persists among Lussier’s loved ones and said he welcomed an independent audit of the agency’s actions. He requested the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (BCA) undertake a review of Lussier’s case. A decision has not been made.

Lussier had not been seen or heard from in days.

The scrap of paper informing tenants of an upcoming inspection still poked out from under her door. Durst left a voicemail reminder, worried that Lussier would not pass that routine check without preparation, but she never received a call back.

On the afternoon of Feb. 22, 2024, Durst entered Lussier’s unlocked apartment and found her lifeless body on the bed. She’d clearly been there awhile.

Minneapolis police officers responded to the Cameron Historic Flats at 756 N. 4th St., where they saw needles strewn throughout the third-floor unit and around her covered body. She was bleeding from her eyes, nose and mouth.

Given the state of her remains, “it was hard to tell if the blood was the result of trauma,” a supervisor wrote in his report.

Her cellphone was nowhere to be found. Durst suspected Foss had it.

An autopsy by the Hennepin County Medical Examiner’s Office concluded that Lussier died of a subdural hematoma, a blood buildup between the brain and the skull, which can be caused by violence or other means. Toxicology results also listed “recent fentanyl and methamphetamine use” as a contributing factor.

The manner of death was ruled “undetermined,” meaning they could not say how she sustained the injury.

Lussier’s relatives believe the hematoma developed as the result of physical abuse that police overlooked because of her ongoing struggles with substance use.

“She was an Indigenous addict, plain and simple. They did not take this seriously,” said Jana Williams, Lussier’s aunt. “How many of us Indigenous females are going to go missing or murdered without questioning the circumstances?”

A Star Tribune review of police records indicates that the initial investigation of Lussier’s death was not thorough. The Crime Lab was never called, so limited forensic evidence was obtained from the scene. Surveillance footage from the apartment wasn’t immediately requested, and a homicide investigator was not assigned to the case until five days later.

Two witnesses independently told police they heard Foss confess to “beating his girlfriend to death” and complaining that the cops were after him in the days before and after Lussier was discovered dead. He gave the names of Lussier and another woman in each instance.

Investigators later recovered Lussier’s phone from one of those witnesses after Foss left it at their house.

Police calls to Foss were not returned. He wasn’t around when officers visited his listed address in St. Paul. Investigators didn’t reenter Lussier’s North Loop apartment for 10 days following her death, despite reports that Foss may have retained a pair of keys, had been seen near the building and might still be staying inside.

A probable cause pickup order was issued for Foss on March 30, but he eluded law enforcement until late July when they arrested him on unrelated burglary and assault charges following a high-speed chase throughout north Minneapolis that ended in an hourslong standoff.

It’s not clear what Foss said, if anything, to investigators about Lussier’s death once in custody. When questioned, he invoked his right to an attorney, according to two sources with knowledge of the investigation.

“Mr. Foss is innocent,” his lawyer, Natalie Paule, wrote in a statement to the Star Tribune. “It is important to remember that Mr. Foss is not charged in this case, meaning there has been not even been a showing of probable cause.”

Foss, 35, remains jailed in Hennepin County in lieu of $500,000 bail on seven unrelated felony counts.

Minneapolis police officials vehemently denied allegations that their officers somehow cut corners or made false assumptions at the scene based on Lussier’s race.

“To suggest that we don’t care about a particular victim, or that we don’t want to put someone who’s doing bad things to people in jail, is a flat-out lie,” O’Hara said.

“The fact that she is Native bears no weight on how we investigated or handled this case,” Olson added.

It is not standard protocol to request the Crime Lab on an overdose or Dead on Arrival (DOA) call, Olson said. Officers are trained to do so in situations where they observed obvious signs of violence, forced entry or a struggle — such as a kicked-in door or scattered shell casings.

“Someone dead and decomposed with needles everywhere is not a sign that a crime occurred,” O’Hara added. He emphasized that Lussier sustained no other known injuries, like a fractured skull.

Initial communications from the medical examiner indicated that there were “fatal amounts” of drugs in Lussier’s system, O’Hara said, and that the subdural hematoma was not the cause of death. He and Olson said that determination changed following calls from the family. Only then was an investigator assigned to the case.

But the medical examiner disputed that account, saying their staff notified MPD of “concerns regarding Ms. Lussier’s autopsy findings” the very next morning, shortly after it was performed. Toxicology results did not come back for nearly four weeks.

“The Medical Examiner refutes any claims that the cause of death, contributing conditions, or manner of death as certified in this case were driven by, or changed as a result of, pressure from Ms. Lussier’s family,” the office wrote in a statement to the Star Tribune.

Police did not publicly classify Lussier’s death as “suspicious” until March 1, more than a week after her body was found.

Throughout the spring, Sgt. Michael Heyer ran down several leads and examined what video footage could still be obtained. None clearly depicted anyone resembling Foss entering or exiting the apartment building, records show.

Heyer submitted a final report on June 4 and forwarded the case to the Hennepin County Attorney’s Office for potential charges, noting that Lussier’s family remained “adamant that Charles Foss is responsible for the death of Allison.”

No other person of interest is named in police records reviewed by the Star Tribune.

The MPD case file “did not contain sufficient information to support charges and required additional investigation by our staff," a spokesman for County Attorney Mary Moriarty’s office wrote in a public statement earlier this month.

Moriarty’s office declined to elaborate on what it viewed as deficient about the case file. Prosecutors vowed to use “every available resource” to seek justice on behalf of Lussier and her family.

MPD officials countered that they were never asked for additional evidence by prosecutors.

“I feel like we’re in the middle of this cat-and-mouse game with MPD and Moriarty’s office — and I don’t like that,” Williams said.

Police and court records show that Lussier complained to officers at least six times in the 18 months before her death that she was often the target of violent domestic assaults by Foss.

The first of the reported attacks occurred in July 2022 at her apartment, where he became angry about a phone call that Lussier received, then grabbed her by the hair, tied her up in the bathroom with a chain and kicked her in the chest.

Later that fall, she reported to police that Foss made her strip before he beat her, threatened to disfigure her face with a razor blade, then kill her and throw her body in the river.

She filed an order for protection against him, explaining that she sustained a black eye and various bruises from head to toe. However, Lussier went back to the court about a week later and had the petition dismissed. The court record does not reveal why she changed her mind.

Those closest to Lussier saw the difference in her demeanor when Foss was around. By herself, she wore makeup, cracked jokes and loved making new friends. With him, she often appeared unkempt and retreated inward, afraid to engage with others.

“I knew it was going to happen unless she got away from him,” her sister, Nicole, said of Lussier’s eventual death. “He doesn’t even know what kind of monster he is.”

Court records reveal that two other women secured restraining orders against Foss for prior abuse dating back to 2013, including vicious assaults while they were pregnant. Each cited numerous incidents of physical and emotional torment, such as attempts to force a miscarriage. One former partner described being thrown to the ground and repeatedly kicked in the stomach while seven months pregnant with Foss' son. Another time, Foss burned a woman in the face with a cigarette.

Foss’ domestic abuse history rarely resulted in criminal charges. He has two felony convictions in Minnesota, one for second-degree assault and another for terroristic threats.

On Feb. 13, 2024, just four days before Lussier lost contact with relatives, Foss barged into her apartment and began accusing her of sleeping with other men. He hit her face and began choking her from behind, stating: “You aren’t leaving me.”

Foss fled before police arrived.

Lussier ran to Durst’s unit one floor below, frantically banging on the door.

That encounter started a 72-hour timer under state law, where authorities can arrest a suspect without a warrant if there’s probable cause indicating a nonfelony domestic assault was committed in the last three days.

It expired after midnight on Feb. 17. When Lussier arrived home to find Foss waiting inside, she called 911 — approximately 36 minutes too late. Officers allowed him to leave, citing the statute.

“It’s so archaic; why is that even in place?” asked Williams, who has become an advocate for her late niece. Earlier this fall, she met with State Sen. Mary Kunesh, DFL-New Brighton, to lobby that it be changed.

In his first public comments about the case last week, O’Hara insisted that his officers handled those prior domestic cases “in accordance with established policy and the law.”

For months, friends and relatives have maintained a steady drumbeat of pressure on city officials, demanding they bring in the BCA.

Dozens of supporters packed the Community Commission on Police Oversight meeting earlier this month to share personal testimony and encourage the body to recommend an independent review of her case. A City Council committee approved that formal audit request in a 12-0 vote, prompting a round of applause in the chambers. Williams wiped her eyes.

The measure offered a glimmer of hope for the grieving family. Though they may never see justice for Lussier, many hold out for change.

“We’ve got to find our voices,” Williams reflected from Lussier’s one-year anniversary memorial gathering at the American Indian Center last week. “Who takes on City Hall or Minneapolis PD and wins? Not in our world.”

That night, loved ones traded stories over a hearty meal and played a photo slideshow of Lussier through the years, during happier times: As a young mother, grasping her toddler son; a proud day when he later achieved his diploma; Lussier striking a pose on the dance floor and enjoying drinks with girlfriends.

Relatives placed a wooden bowl laden with wild rice and blueberries beside a sheet cake, her radiant smile beaming up from the frosting, as a ceremonial offering to her spirit.

Anyone who is in an abusive relationship or knows someone who is can contact the Day One Hotline by calling 866-223-1111 or texting 612-399-9995.