“It’s a combination of fight where you need to fight, and that includes everything — legal action, a bullhorn, peaceful protests and civil disobedience,” Murphy said of his approach. “And then at the same time, we can’t close off the opportunity to find common ground.”

Some of the first maneuvering by top Democrats began this past week, when Pritzker and Gov. Jared Polis of Colorado announced the formation of a group called Governors Safeguarding Democracy. Its unveiling followed several days of behind-the-scenes drama, as several fellow Democratic governors declined to join the group, at least for now.

A draft news release listed six other governors as members of the coalition led by Pritzker and Polis. But four of them — Andy Beshear of Kentucky, Maura Healey of Massachusetts, Michelle Lujan Grisham of New Mexico and Josh Shapiro of Pennsylvania — declined to join, according to people briefed on the discussions. Govs. Tony Evers of Wisconsin and Josh Green of Hawaii were also named on the draft news release, but neither has yet agreed to join the group.

Alex Gough, a spokesperson for Pritzker, said that the group had been working with 20 governors’ offices but that “not all of these governors wish to be named publicly at this time for understandable reasons, including the potential threats states are facing.”

Murphy said he had been approached to join the Pritzker group, as well, but declined, explaining that he was focused on New Jersey until his term ends in early 2026. He said he had also declined to run to lead the Democratic National Committee after holding a series of conversations about entering that race, which is expected to have its first candidates enter by early next week.

The election to lead the party, expected to be held sometime in early 2025, will be an insular contest decided by the 447 members of the DNC. Those who have had conversations with party members and prominent Democrats about running include Ken Martin, the Minnesota Democratic chair; Ben Wikler, the Wisconsin Democratic chair; Michael Blake, a former New York state Assembly member; Mitch Landrieu, a former Biden administration official who also served as mayor of New Orleans; and Stacey Abrams, who twice ran for governor of Georgia.

When Nasrieen Habib launched a hiking group for Muslim women in 2022, she didn’t know if anyone would show up.

Nine women responded to her initial social media post. “And we have never stopped since,” Habib said.

In the two years since, Hiking Hijabie — and an offshoot for families, Hiking Ummah — have grown into a local force, drawing more than 870 participants for outdoors activities including hikes, camping, kayaking and even snow tubing. The mantra is “rain or shine, we are hiking,” Habib said.

The energetic Minneapolis mom of two has launched an umbrella organization, Amanah Recreational Projects, to channel social and outdoors ventures for Muslims, including Hiking Hijabie, Hiking Ummah, EcoJariyah, and Chai and Chat.

She said her goal is to create a safe space for Muslim families and the whole community to spend time outdoors. Habib said adapting to cold weather can be challenging or even overwhelming for many newcomers, especially those from warmer places like Somalia.

“Winter activities are actually pretty fun,” Habib said. “I want to make sure my community feels safe and comfortable in their environment, where they can engage in physical activities and enjoy the outdoors.”

The idea of women hiking by themselves is also unusual in the Somali community, so the group is pushing new boundaries.

Habib, 38, spent her early years in Somalia and Uganda, then grew up in the subtropical temps of Houston, Texas.

While the headlines about the lawsuit discussed the crux of Haynes’ claim, it’s also important to understand the totality of his request from the actual lawsuit, which calls his wrongful conviction “an egregious miscarriage of justice. “

“Claimant Marvin Haynes spent nearly two decades wrongfully incarcerated for a murder and assault he did not commit. He was wrongfully arrested as a teenager of only sixteen years old, later thrust into life-threatening conditions in adult prison, and robbed of the formative years of his youth and young adulthood,” the lawsuit states. “Mr. Haynes was finally exonerated and released at the age of thirty-six. During his wrongful incarceration, Mr. Haynes lost the opportunity to graduate high school alongside his peers, to see his maternal grandparents — with whom he had a close relationship — before they passed away, and to spend valuable years with his mother before a stroke rendered her unable to speak or care for herself. During the years when most teenagers find their independence and define their sense of self, Mr. Haynes was forced to spend his days worrying about his safety and fighting to prove his innocence. And while Mr. Haynes worked hard to achieve his high school diploma during his wrongful incarceration, any thought of further education had to be pushed aside in favor of tireless efforts to gain his freedom.”

There are “wounds,” mentioned in the lawsuit, in Haynes’ family that changed him and those around him. Only Haynes and those close to him will ever understand that dynamic. But the $2 million he’s earned won’t remove those scars.

It is also, unfortunately, no guarantee that he will get what he’s requested.

For those in Haynes’ position, the battle for compensation is often fruitless. In a study of 1,800 exonerees, only 42% were compensated, according to Most Policy Initiative, a Missouri-based think tank.

Haynes has every right to live his life with an embittered demeanor. He could be angry. And I think, if I were in his shoes, I would be. But I also don’t know what it’s like to be Marvin Haynes. I do, however, wonder how he acquired the grace that’s allowed him to begin the journey to reclaim his life.