Star Tribune
Camp Nenookaasi residents, city of Minneapolis clash in court over homeless encampment closures
For the second time this year, a U.S. District Court Judge is weighing a request from residents of Minneapolis’ largest homeless encampment to block the city of Minneapolis from shutting down the camp.
Thursday, during a more than three-hour hearing, Judge Eric Tostrud questioned attorneys representing residents of Camp Nenookaasi as he sought to understand how he could tailor an injunction against the city — should he decide to issue one.
Among his questions: whether camp residents were seeking eviction protections no matter where the camp moves, whether residents acknowledged they were trespassing, and how they would respond to neighboring homeowners who have described finding human waste on their properties and hearing gunshots near the camp.
Tostrud, who said he would take more time to consider the arguments before issuing a ruling, heard arguments on behalf of encampment residents who say repeated closures have disrupted their lives — and of neighbors who say the encampments are significantly affecting public health and safety.
Encampment residents’ lawyer Kira Kelley attempted to demonstrate that her clients faced actual harm by being put on the move four times in three months. The Nenookaasi encampment, now in its fifth location, has bounced around the Phillips and Ventura Village neighborhoods following multiple closures mandated by city order, and a recent fire.
Kelley disputed that all crime and sanitation problems in an area rife with homelessness can be blamed on Nenookaasi residents. She said camp organizers have purposely utilized out-of-the-way public property and argued that preventing camping anywhere in Minneapolis when there is not enough emergency shelter space is akin to “banishment.”
Camp residents are seeking a temporary restraining order that would allow the approximately 50 people still living at Nenookaasi to relocate someplace where they will not be threatened with eviction, so they can work with housing case managers to find suitable homes.
But Assistant Minneapolis City Attorney Sharda Enslin argued that the request was moot because the camp residents’ latest injunction request was filed when Nenookaasi was located at a previous site that no longer exists, after burning to the ground. She argued that the residents are attempting to get the court to create a way for them to trespass onto city property.
Tostrudpreviously denied a request for a temporary restraining order in January, when residents sued to halt the city’s plan to close the encampment, arguing that such a move would violate residents’ constitutional rights. In his earlier ruling, Tostrud said it’s the job of local policymakers — not judges — to determine if and when encampments should be closed.
Closure considerations
In declarations to the court, current and former camp residents described living on the streets for years before finding a measure of stability at Nenookaasi, which allowed them to eventually find housing and drug treatment. Lyle Thunder Hawk, 59, said he lost his ID, social security card and phone in a city sweep of the encampment, but that moving with the camp to the next location gave him a chance to locate an apartment.
Roberta Strong, a 31-year-old Bois Forte Band member with a traumatic brain injury from domestic abuse, said that with every eviction, she loses track of relatives, clothes, medicine and IDs. Veronica Tiger, a 29-year-old Blackfoot Indian descendant who has been homeless on and off for nine years, credits Nenokaasi for encouraging her to enroll at a drug treatment program in St. Paul.
“Nenookaasi has structure, security, and care, rather than just rules and attempts to control people,” Tiger wrote. “If you break a rule in a shelter, you get kicked out. There are rules everywhere, true, but here unlike a shelter you are met with understanding and being allowed to make a mistake as long as you’re growing, you get the time to improve and see why what you’re doing is unacceptable.”
But neighbors have also submitted testimonies in favor of the city, saying human waste keeps appearing in their driveways and yards, and that Nenookaasi’s constant campfires have sent people with asthma to urgent care. In December, a man was killed in a shooting at the camp’s first location, and the city has tied issues including vandalism, overdoses and drug use to the camp in making its case for closures.
Kristen McHenry, director of public affairs at Allina Health, emailed the city saying smoke from the encampment was interfering with testing at Allina’s central lab, located on 10th Avenue between Abbott Northwestern and the Midtown Global Market.
And Ashely Jensen, who manages a small multifamily building next to the fourth iteration of Camp Nenookaasi, said the smoke has given one of the residents a “chronic cough and significant physical discomfort on a near constant, ongoing basis.”
A large fire on Feb. 29 burned the fourth iteration of Camp Nenookaasi, located at 28th Street and 12th Avenue, to the ground. It also melted the side of her building, said Jensen.
The Minneapolis Fire Department has completed its investigation, but deemed the cause to be “undetermined.” In its report, the department noted that the fire began in a yurt at the center of the camp and spread quickly, propelled by “dozens of illegal open fires and propane cooking devices discovered in the fire debris.”
Nenookaasi’s future
The city’s prior victory in court and repeated closures of Camp Nenookaasi have not stopped the camp from reforming, to the frustration of people living in south-central Minneapolis.
Meanwhile, outreach workers have criticized current policies, saying the repeated closures and relocations prolong their efforts to match homeless people with appropriate housing, while also increasing the chance of overdoses.
In January, City Council Members Jason Chavez, Aurin Chowdhury and Aisha Chughtai introduced ordinances to establish regulated outdoor spaces for homeless people, equip encampments with sanitation (such as portable toilets) and mandate regular reporting of encampment removals. Specifics for those proposals are not yet available.
Most of the people living at Camp Nenookaasi are Native Americans who grew up in the surrounding neighborhoods or hail from outstate reservations, and organizers have attested that nearly all are suffering from Fentanyl addiction. The ravages of the opioid epidemic on the Native American community has made it more difficult for those who are chronically homeless to make use of sober shelters and recover from life on the streets.
The situation has become more dire in recent years; Fentanyl is 50 times stronger than heroin, which was the more commonly used drug in 2018 when the city’s first major encampment, the Wall of Forgotten Natives, appeared along Highway 55.
The rate of opioid-related deaths among Native Americans is 30 to 1 when compared to white people, according to the Minneapolis Health Department.
The only debate between DFL U.S. Sen. Amy Klobuchar and GOP challenger Royce White started Sunday on the street outside WCCO Radio.
As White approached the building, he loudly called some two dozen flag-waving and cheering Klobuchar supporters a “whole lot of commies.” The 33-year-old provocateur and podcaster also told them to thank Republican former Vice President Dick Cheney — who endorsed Democratic Vice President Kamala Harris — because there was “no chance in hell” that Harris would defeat Republican former President Donald Trump on Nov. 5.
Klobuchar, 64, had arrived moments earlier, smiling and wishing “good morning” to her supporters. Once inside, the two took questions for an hour from moderator Blois Olson. Their tone was generally polite with White often interrupting a Klobuchar response with, “rebuttal,” indicated he wanted to respond.
The senator repeatedly raised White’s claims on X, formerly Twitter, that “The bad guys won in World War II” and that there were “no good guys in that war.” She called that stance offensive to veterans.
U.S. Sen. Amy Klobuchar arrives at WCCO Radio for a debate with Royce White in Minneapolis on Sunday, Oct. 27. (Richard Tsong-Taatarii)
Klobuchar, who is seeking a fourth six-year term, portrayed herself as a pragmatist. She opened by saying that we live in “incredibly divisive times politically” but that she has listened and worked with Republicans to bring down shipping costs, drug prices for seniors and to help veterans and push for more housing and child care.
“Courage in this next few years is not going to be standing by yourself yelling at people,” she said, her opening allusion to White’s rhetoric, which she said is often vulgar.
White, a former NBA player, is a political novice, but a close ally of Steve Bannon, the jailed former chief strategist for Trump and right wing media executive. Last summer, White won the state GOP endorsement to run against Klobuchar.
“Our country’s coming undone at the seams. I think we can change that,” White said in his opening statement. He said he threatens the status quo, decried the “permanent political class” and referred to the two major parties as the “uniparty.”
Other buildings destroyed at Khojir and Parchin likely included buildings where Iran used industrial mixers to create the solid fuel needed for its extensive ballistic missile arsenal, Eveleth said.
In a statement issued immediately after the attack Saturday, the Israeli military said it targeted ”missile manufacturing facilities used to produce the missiles that Iran fired at the state of Israel over the last year.”
Destroying such sites could greatly disrupt Iran’s ability to manufacture new ballistic missiles to replenish its arsenal after the two attacks on Israel. Iran’s paramilitary Revolutionary Guard, which oversees the country’s ballistic missile program, has been silent since Saturday’s attack.
Iran’s overall ballistic missile arsenal, which includes shorter-range missiles unable to reach Israel, was estimated to be ”over 3,000” by Gen. Kenneth McKenzie, then-commander of the U.S. military’s Central Command, in testimony to the U.S. Senate in 2022. In the time since, Iran has fired hundreds of the missiles in a series of attacks.
There have been no videos or photos posted to social media of missile parts or damage in civilian neighborhoods following the recent attack — suggesting that the Israeli strikes were far more accurate that Iran’s ballistic missile barrages targeting Israel in April and October. Israel relied on aircraft-fired missiles during its attack.
However, one factory appeared to have been hit in Shamsabad Industrial City, just south of Tehran near Imam Khomeini International Airport, the country’s main gateway to the outside world. Online videos of the damaged building corresponded to an address for a firm known as TIECO, which advertises itself as building advanced machinery used in Iran’s oil and gas industry.
Some take him up on it and fret when he’s not around.
“It is nice to be missed and be part of the school’s culture,” Arzola said. But mostly, he added, he wants kids to know that police aren’t around just for when the bad stuff happens. He’ll hand out his stickers and bracelets, even a trading card bearing his image. Then, they’ll talk about dogs and family.
School resource officer Al Arzola talks to students in his office at John Adams Middle School in Rochester on Oct. 11. (Leila Navidi/The Minnesota Star Tribune)
Two months ago, Rochester played host to a three-day training session for new SROs from across the state — an event organized by the Minnesota School Safety Center. On the final day, the 26 officers learned about surveillance challenges at the other school where Arzola works: Dakota Middle School.
It is a beautiful building with a scenic view. There is a lot of glass, too. Arzola, handling the role of instructor and tour guide, took the group outside and noted how one could look straight through the entrance to the large groups that gather inside. There were no curbs in front, either.
“There is nothing stopping any vehicle whatsoever from going through my front doors,” Arzola told the officers. “Law enforcement wasn’t talked to before this building was made. It was kind of like, ‘Here it is. You’re the SRO. Do what you do.’”
He showed them his office, too, which is separate from the main office and near those of other school support staff members. That makes sense, said Jenny Larrive, SRO coordinator for the Minnesota School Safety Center, given than SROs spend more time connecting with youth than on actual law enforcement.
