The life of the Minnesota man now at the center of a high-profile investigation took a dramatic and unexpected turn over the past few years — from delivering sermons
Once known for his religious devotion and community involvement, the suspect’s recent history paints a picture of a man whose path veered sharply from its earlier course, eventually leading to the violent incidents now under scrutiny by law enforcement.
Investigators are piecing together the suspect’s background in an effort to understand what may have led to the alleged crimes. Those who knew him say the transformation from spiritual figure to criminal suspect has been both jarring and baffling.
“This is not the man I used to know,” said one former acquaintance. “He was soft-spoken, dedicated to his faith. No one could have imagined this.”
His journey began overseas, where he was reportedly involved in religious missions and preaching engagements in the Democratic Republic of Congo. But upon returning to the United States, those who encountered him noticed changes in his demeanor and career path.
He took up work at local funeral homes in Minnesota — jobs that, while not unusual, seemed like a stark shift from his prior missionary focus.
Now, with the suspect facing serious charges and a sprawling investigation underway, questions swirl about how someone once rooted in faith and service came to be linked with acts of violence.
Authorities continue to probe the timeline of his activities, hoping to uncover clues that explain the transformation of a man whose life, until recently, appeared to follow a very different path.
From Corporate Ladder to Congo Missions: The Unraveling Path of Minnesota Suspect Vance Boelter
For much of his life, Vance Boelter appeared to be living a typical American dream. A father of five with a career in food service management, he steadily climbed the ranks at companies like Gerber and 7-Eleven. Alongside his wife and their German shepherds, he moved into progressively larger homes in suburban Wisconsin and Minnesota, creating what many saw as a stable, middle-class life.
But beginning in 2021, Boelter’s life took an unexpected—and ultimately tragic—turn. There, he preached impassioned sermons in churches and attempted to launch farming and fishing ventures, while back in Minnesota he supported himself with part-time work at funeral homes, including collecting bodies from crime scenes.
This erratic shift in Boelter’s life culminated, authorities say, in a violent rampage that shocked Minnesota. According to a federal indictment, Boelter impersonated a police officer and attacked four homes of Democratic state officials in the early hours of a Saturday morning. Investigators later found handwritten lists in Boelter’s home and car containing the names and addresses of various Minnesota public officials, most of them Democrats.
From Corporate Success to Financial Strain
Until just a few years ago, Boelter’s resume painted the picture of a grounded professional. His LinkedIn profile outlines decades of mid-level management positions in the food industry across the Midwest. He earned a doctorate in leadership from Cardinal Stritch University in Wisconsin and even received recognition in 2012 for his work in workforce development in Minnesota.
As he advanced in his career, Boelter and his wife Jenny bought homes across Wisconsin and Minnesota, including a sprawling 11-acre property in rural Green Isle, purchased in 2023. That home—complete with a $400,000 price tag and three Shiloh shepherds—became increasingly difficult to maintain as Boelter’s finances began to unravel.
One former roommate at a modest rental property in Minneapolis, where Boelter sometimes stayed while working shifts at local funeral homes, said his financial struggles were becoming apparent. “He couldn’t keep up with the house, the dogs, the kids, the bills,” the roommate said. “He was clearly under pressure.”
According to those close to him, Boelter also poured money into what many described as unrealistic ventures. He tried to launch an armed security firm in Minnesota and a farming business in the Congo—neither of which gained traction.
“I told him, ‘This doesn’t make sense. You’re burning through your savings,’” said a longtime acquaintance who asked to remain anonymous for safety reasons. “It just seemed reckless.”
A Mission to Leave a Legacy
In Africa, Boelter delivered fiery sermons that seemed to reveal his growing desire for significance and impact. One recorded speech captured him proclaiming, “When I die and go to heaven… I don’t want to just listen to other people tell their stories.
This desire to make a mark extended into his business efforts. Yet, few details exist about what the business actually accomplished.
Despite these lofty goals, those who knew him in Minnesota said Boelter never hinted at political extremism. Public records show he had once registered as a Republican and voted for Donald Trump, but his social media activity remained largely apolitical. Several acquaintances told CNN they had never heard him express extremist views or threats against political figures.
Faith, Failed Ventures, and an African Mission: The Complex Life of Vance Boelter
Christianity played a central role in the life of Vance Boelter, the Minnesota man now accused of a deadly political rampage. In a sermon, Boelter once described having a religious awakening at age 17, when he said he was “born again.” He was ordained as a reverend in 1993, according to an archived page from a Christian ministry he founded, Revoformation Ministries. Friends said he told them stories of traveling to the Middle East early in his life to distribute gospel literature.
Boelter often portrayed his religious mission as part of a larger calling. The Revoformation Ministries website described him as the author of a book that aimed to completely shift readers’ perceptions of themselves, others, and God.
A Shocking Turn Toward Violence
That changed on a quiet Saturday morning when police say Boelter disguised himself as a law enforcement officer and carried out a targeted attack on public officials. In addition to killing Rep. Hortman and her husband, and wounding Sen. Hoffman and his wife, Boelter had reportedly scouted the homes of two other officials. His arrest followed a massive manhunt, ending in a rural farm field not far from his Green Isle home.
However, copies are not widely available online, and the book never garnered attention beyond his small religious circle.
Entrepreneurial Pursuits with Little Success
While Boelter continued his primary career in food service, he also explored various entrepreneurial endeavors—particularly in the security industry. Records from Wisconsin show he registered a business called Souljer Security, LLC in 1999. The name combined religious overtones and military imagery, but the business dissolved within a decade and appears never to have gained traction.
According to Minnesota state filings, the company was licensed to operate as a protective agent agency, which meant it could hire armed guards.
Regulatory documents from the Minnesota Private Detective and Protective Agent Services Board list Jenny Boelter as the CEO, with Vance Boelter and other family members registered as employees. Vance had completed two firearm training courses in July 2019 and a conceal carry renewal course the following year.
Despite the licensing, the company never became operational. In a 2023 filing, Jenny Boelter wrote that the business had never served any clients. “Right before we were able to get up and running, the pandemic hit,” she explained. “I spent thousands of dollars preparing, but it just felt like I kept hitting brick walls.”
A longtime acquaintance of Boelter said the idea behind the company—selling high-priced private protection plans for times of “social unrest”—sounded disconnected from practical business realities.
A New Chapter in Africa
Boelter’s life veered further off course in 2021 when he left his corporate job and set his sights on the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). In a self-recorded introduction video later posted to social media, Boelter described being inspired during a trip to Central Africa. He believed he had ideas that could help solve food insecurity and improve local economies.
He recounted presenting his ideas to his then-employer, who declined to support them. So, Boelter said, he spoke with his wife, submitted his two-week notice, and decided to go all in. “We’d just go off on our own to try to do these projects to help out in Africa,” he explained in the video.
The couple launched a new venture called Red Lion Group. Its archived website listed an ambitious array of projects planned for the DRC, including the country’s first modular oil refinery, a glass manufacturing plant, and a logging operation. “Even if profit isn’t there in the end for Red Lion, but if we were able to create good jobs … that is good enough for us,” the site proclaimed.
But the scale and scope of the plans concerned those close to him. One longtime acquaintance said that Boelter often spoke with grand ambition but offered little detail or realism. “It was always too pie-in-the-sky,” he recalled. “Every time I’d ask for a business plan—some explanation of revenue or cost—there was never anything specific. Just vague ideas and big dreams.”
A Pattern of Unfulfilled Vision
The Red Lion Group appeared to follow the same path as his previous business efforts—grand in concept but lacking execution. There is no evidence that any of the promised industrial developments in the DRC materialized.
Combined with the failure of the security businesses back home and mounting financial pressures, Boelter’s vision of leaving behind a meaningful legacy seemed increasingly out of reach.
Despite these professional struggles, his religious convictions never wavered. In his sermons, Boelter spoke passionately about wanting to make a mark on the world. “When I die and go to heaven… I don’t want to just listen to other people tell their stories,” he said in one speech.
That need to create a legacy—whether through ministry, business, or global development—was evident in nearly every project Boelter pursued. But none of them took root, leaving him to juggle part-time work in funeral homes and retreat into more isolated, erratic behavior.
What began as a life grounded in faith and professional achievement gradually spiraled into one of failed ventures, unrealistic ambitions, and, according to authorities, a plan for violence.
Now, as investigators search for answers about the deadly attacks he allegedly carried out, they’re also left to piece together the motivations of a man whose dreams once seemed driven by idealism but ultimately veered into darkness.
Preaching Abroad, Working at Funeral Homes: The Unsettling Final Chapter of Vance Boelter’s Life
Vance Boelter’s later years saw him preaching in the heart of Central Africa while juggling shifts at Minnesota funeral homes — a dual existence that, in hindsight, marked an increasingly strange and turbulent period in his life.
Videos posted to Facebook and YouTube show Boelter delivering impassioned sermons at a Pentecostal church in Matadi, a bustling port city along the Congo River. He preached with the aid of a dynamic French translator, recalling his teenage religious awakening and proudly claiming to have ventured into conflict zones — including the West Bank, Gaza, and Southern Lebanon — to spread the message of Christianity.
But Boelter’s sermons also revealed more controversial views. The remarks drew a stark contrast to his message of service and charity, showing a harder edge to his belief system.
An Ambitious Nonprofit That Never Took Off
In 2021, Boelter launched a nonprofit organization called You Give Them Something to Eat. According to state filings, the charity aimed to tackle both American and global hunger by forging partnerships between companies in wealthier nations and those in underdeveloped areas. The stated goal was to “remove long term obstacles that keeps food from people that are in need.”
Despite its lofty mission, the nonprofit failed to gain traction. Public tax records show it generated no revenue, and the organization quietly dissolved just two years later without having made a measurable impact.
Funeral Work Becomes a Lifeline
As Boelter’s ventures struggled to materialize, he turned to a new line of work — in the funeral industry.
In a video recorded for a mortuary science program at Des Moines Area Community College — which school officials confirmed he attended in 2023 and 2024 — Boelter explained his reasons for entering the field. “I started working at funeral homes to help pay the bills,” he said, adding that the night shifts worked well with his Africa-focused projects.
Two funeral homes in the Minneapolis area confirmed Boelter had worked for them starting in 2023. His duties reportedly included removing deceased individuals from homes and crime scenes, a role that exposed him to emotionally intense environments. The work was stable, if grim, and allowed him to maintain his dual existence — still trying to pursue big dreams abroad while managing the realities of life at home.
A Life Split Between Two Worlds
Boelter spent his time shuttling between his family’s rural home in Green Isle, Minnesota — a quiet town about an hour outside Minneapolis — and a more modest life in the city. In Minneapolis, he lived part-time in a run-down bungalow he shared with four other men. The home, located in a working-class neighborhood, was a far cry from his sprawling suburban residence in Green Isle.
When CNN visited the bungalow, the three-bedroom, 1,550-square-foot home showed signs of wear. A gray cat darted around as a reminder of the makeshift family the roommates had formed. One of Boelter’s housemates, speaking on condition of anonymity due to safety concerns, said Boelter had been staying at the house several nights a week for about 18 months.
“He’d come and go,” the roommate said. “He’d do shifts at the funeral homes, sometimes talk about Africa, and then head back out to Green Isle.”
Others described the house and Boelter’s presence in it as “a little eerie, a little dark.” His combination of lofty, world-changing rhetoric and his daily work with death created a jarring juxtaposition. It was a life marked by deep contradictions — a man of faith who preached about salvation but who, according to authorities, would later carry out a deadly rampage against public officials.
In the end, the image of Boelter is that of someone increasingly untethered — someone whose past achievements and spiritual fervor gave way to failed projects, inflammatory views, and a descent into violence that shocked his community and those who thought they knew him.
One of Vance Boelter’s former roommates recalled a moment that still lingers in his mind: Boelter had called him out to the alley behind their rental home and opened the back hatch of his minivan. Inside were two empty body bags, part of his work for the local funeral homes.
“It just felt a little eerie, a little dark,” the roommate said. “It made me wonder — this didn’t fit with the Vance I thought I knew. The college-educated guy, the family man.”
According to the roommate, Boelter didn’t like to engage in political discussions. Though both had supported Donald Trump, any attempt to discuss politics was usually brushed aside. “He’d say something short, then go, ‘You know, I don’t want to get into it. Have a good one. Good night,’” the roommate recalled.
It was inside that same modest Minneapolis rental home that investigators later discovered chilling evidence: notebooks containing handwritten lists with names and home addresses of numerous Minnesota public officials — many of them Democrats. Among them was State Rep. Melissa Hortman. One note referencing her residence read: “Big house off golf course 2 ways in,” according to a federal indictment.
The revelation has left those who knew Boelter stunned and struggling to reconcile the man they remember with the one now accused of cold, calculated violence.
A longtime acquaintance of Boelter said they last spoke just a month ago. The conversation, he said, gave no hint of what was to come.
“I’m completely shocked,” he told CNN. “The Vance I talked to — that wasn’t the guy who would do something like this. Not even close.”