Star Tribune
Quit hugging our state, South Dakota
You can’t blame South Dakota for wanting a little bit of Minnesota.
I mean, who wouldn’t?
We’ve got the Minnesota Twins, way more lakes, the biggest ball of twine – and a governor who doesn’t brag about killing the family dog.
So our neighbor to the west has reached over, real slow and careful like, and slung its arm around Rock County. Our Rock County, the southwest corner of our state, home of Blue Mounds State Park and Luverne.
As reported by Sioux Falls Business, Rock County is now considered part of the Sioux Falls, S.D., Metropolitan Statistical Area.
What it means is the U.S. Office of Management and Budget has determined that based on 2020 census data, Sioux Falls, population 202,000, and Rock County, population 10,000 (or just about), are married.
Well, the government doesn’t actually say “married.” The U.S. Census Bureau says the two have a “high degree of economic and social integration.” At the minimum, that sounds like a serious relationship.
Feeling somewhat attached to all parts of our state, including those in the furthest corners, I felt I had to reach out to Luverne Mayor Pat Baustian. Was Rock County’s relationship with South Dakota stronger than its connection to Minnesota? Does Rock County feel Minnesotan? I felt way more anxious about this than I should have.
It was a reassuring conversation.
“My cable TV channel was selected for the sole reason that I get WCCO news,” he said. “As the mayor of Luverne, you have to be connected to your state. That holds true with a lot of residents. They want to hear the Twin Cities metro. They have family up there, kids up there. I don’t subscribe to the Argus Leader. I subscribe to the Star Tribune. We are a WCCO, Twins, Vikings, Wild family.”
True, I-90 connects Rock County to Sioux Falls, and true, people from Luverne work there and shop there and yes, well, their cell phones might have a 605 area code if they bought them in Sioux Falls, and sure, it’s possible that some Minnesota kids attend school in South Dakota if such a school is closer.
Also true that some he knows from Rock County have moved to South Dakota because they prefer the politics and the lack of an income tax.
But the reverse of at least some of those things is also true. Baustian knows people who have moved to Minnesota from South Dakota because they found lower property taxes or they like the politics better in Minnesota. South Dakotans also work in Rock County. And he sees lots of South Dakota license plates near the new seven-mile bike trail around Luverne that connects to the State Park.
I-90, he said, is truly a two-way street. And that street can work to Rock County’s advantage, as Minnesota doesn’t charge sales tax on groceries, unlike South Dakota.
Baustian is a convincing salesman for Luverne. He says he persuaded an acquaintance to move there after selling his house in Sioux Falls by encouraging him to come and look around, and by talking up the way the community passes multi-million dollar bond referendums with 65-70% support to build new schools and a performing art center.
“That’s because the grandparents of kids that go to that school live in Luverne — they want good things for their grandkids,” he said. “We have a strong belief in a strong education system. So we have a lot of families that come here for that.”
By the time he was done talking, I was shaking my head over why anybody in their right mind would rather live in Sioux Falls than Luverne. Who knows? Give it a decade. Maybe Sioux Falls will fall within the Luverne Metropolitan Statistical Area.
A bit about metropolitan statistical areas for inquiring minds. They’re a way for data crunchers to understand the flow of people and money around highly populated areas. It helps them figure out what areas are likely to grow so they can think about where to put roads, schools and housing developments. Governments can also use income information to figure out where to direct aid.
Rock County isn’t the only Minnesota county that shares a metropolitan statistical area with a neighboring state. Think Fargo-Moorhead. Grand Forks, N.D., and East Grand Forks, Minn. Duluth-Superior. While enmeshed through family, property and trade, these areas still retain their essential Minnesota culture. They’re all still Minnesooootans.
Star Tribune
More than 40 years later and thanks to advances in DNA technology, a man has received a 20-year term for a murder in the Uptown area of Minneapolis.
Thanks to advances in DNA technology, a man has received a 20-year prison term for a murder in the Uptown area of Minneapolis more than 40 years ago.
Matthew Russell Brown, 67, of Ingleside, Ill., was sentenced Wednesday in Hennepin County District Court after pleading guilty to second-degree murder in connection with the stabbing of Robert A. Miller at a home in the 3200 block of S. Girard Avenue in 1984.
With credit for time in jail since his arrest in June 2023, Brown is expected to serve the first 12½ years of his sentence in prison and the balance on supervised release.
The Hennepin County Attorney’s Office said the linchpin in the case was a disposable cup discarded by Brown that contained DNA matching the blood at the scene.
“As we all know, advances in technology have improved DNA analysis,” the Minneapolis Police Department said in a statement released at the time of Brown’s arrest. “Over the past eight years, MPD homicide investigators assigned to the FBI’s Cold Case Task Force have been working diligently with the BCA Forensics Lab to identify DNA found at the scene and narrow down a possible list of suspects. One lead led to another until the MPD homicide investigators were able to identify a suspect in the case.”
At 2:30 a.m. on July 19, 1984, police arrived at Miller’s apartment , where two women in the hall said a man armed with a knife had broken into the building and attacked them.
Officers found Miller dead with “stab wounds to his face, head, chest, back and shoulders,” the complaint read.
Star Tribune
Twin Cities man guilty of murder for fatally stabbing fellow group home resident nearly 2 dozen times
The staffer told a 911 dispatcher that she didn’t hear anything further from the room and said “something isn’t right.”
A police officer arrived and saw a shirtless Adams running from the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses across the street and into the group home. In a Kingdom Hall trash can, police located a “badly bent” and bloody kitchen knife inside a garbage bag. Another bag held a pair of blood-soaked gloves.
Officers located Rahn in his room with stab wounds to his neck and back. Medics declared him dead at the scene.
Adams gave various accounts to police about how and why Rahn was stabbed.
The medical examiner found stab wounds to Rahn’s face, neck, upper body and elsewhere. He also suffered at least 20 stab wounds to one of his hands, which are “consistent with defensive wounds,” the complaint said.
The title track from the coming album by FKA Twigs, “Eusexua,” isn’t exactly euphoric or sexy. Produced by FKA Twigs, Koreless and Earthearter, the track runs on nervous, hopping 16th-notes and distant chords under FKA Twigs’ whispery soprano before a beat fully kicks in. It’s anxious and tentative at first, wondering about a primal, possibly dangerous, possibly life-changing attraction: “Don’t call it love — eusexua.” Later, as the rhythm revs up, she promises, “You feel alone, you’re not alone.” But the propulsion falls away, leaving her “on the edge of something greater than before,” but dangling.
JON PARELES, New York Times
Suki Waterhouse, “Model, Actress, Whatever”
Stardom, by definition, is one of the rarest occupations. It’s also a wildly disproportionate topic for songwriters to take on. The immensely sly, self-conscious and droopy-voiced English model, actress and songwriter Waterhouse takes up the self-pity of a star in “Model, Actress, Whatever,” the title song of her new EP. It’s a slow-building waltz about what happens after making it big: “All of my dreams came true/The bigger the ocean, the deeper the blue,” she declares. She musters grandiose orchestral production to sum up a feeling of emptiness.
JON PARELES, New York Times
