For Melissa Hortman’s last day at work, they draped her coffin with pink flowers and filled the cold marble under the Minnesota Capitol dome with the green and growing things that she loved.
Outside the building where she’d spent two decades and untold hours working on her state’s behalf, the line to say goodbye stretched out the door, across the lawn and up nearby streets until it almost encircled the building.
Former President Joe Biden came to pay his respects, genuflecting in prayer and stopping to pat both service dogs that were standing vigil, tails wagging. There was the governor and his wife, walking hand in hand. But this is the People’s House too, and it was a day for the people of Minnesota to grieve two people and one dog who had their lives stolen by political violence.
Hour after hour, mourners filed into the rotunda where Hortman, speaker emerita of the House, lay in state alongside her husband, Mark Hortman, and their golden retriever. Visitors stared numbly at the flowers, the soaring underside of the dome, the framed photos of the Hortmans’ smiling faces. Some carried bouquets to add to the piles of flowers that were starting to wilt on the memorials outside the House chambers.
Yellow blooms spilled across Mark Hortman’s coffin. Tucked between the Hortmans’ coffins was the urn for Gilbert, their dog. All were victims of the political violence that terrorized the state two weeks ago, and so in a way were the thousands who streamed in to pay their respects.
High overhead, the electrolier – the century-old chandelier lighted only on special occasions or when the Legislature is in session – glowed for them. Minnesota’s greatest honor for Minnesota’s great loss.

It was a memorial put together by legislators and legislative staff, some of the people who knew Melissa Hortman best. They worked through their own crushing grief to make sure all Minnesota had a chance to honor her.
“Speaker Hortman was strategic, funny, kind, and driven to make Minnesota a better place,” wrote Sean Rahn, her chief of staff, trying to put into words the loss of someone he’d been in daily contact with for the past eight years.