Rock band of Minnesota judges and justices performs despite threats surge
ST. CLOUD, Minn. -- For Justice Anne McKeig, the high-stakes endeavor of deciding cases on the Minnesota Supreme Court is increasingly an exercise in stress management and risk tolerance.
"It is an overwhelming responsibility," said McKeig, an amateur musician and the first indigenous woman justice anywhere in the country.
An unprecedented surge of violent threats directed at state and federal judges in Minnesota and across the country has created taxing new dimensions to life as a judge and to upholding rule of law in America.
"I think people are extremely unhappy, and they don't know where to take out their anger, or how to take out their anger in a way that is not involving violence," McKeig told ABC News.
Nearly three quarters of Minnesota judges have reported receiving threats, according to a 2024 report from the Minnesota District Court Judges Association. About as many say they fear for their safety because of the job they do.
"Also, it's the public response to the decisions that we make," McKeig added. "We're in the press more than some of our district court colleagues, but all of our families get impacted by this."
As courts at all levels of the judiciary raise alarm about an influx of vitriolic phone calls, swatting and doxxing incidents involving judges' personal homes, and social media posts threatening bodily harm, Justice McKeig says many arbiters of justice have been searching for new ways to cope.
"I thought, OK, we need to find out a way to have some fun, because this is a pretty serious job," McKeig said.
Her answer is called the Reasonable Doubts, an all-judge rock band that meets twice a month to blow off steam and jam together inside an old law library.
"The job is tough, and you have to have outlets for something to get you out of your own head every once in a while," said retired Judge Dale Harris, who plays guitar.
The group of 9 from across the state plays classics from Johnny Cash to contemporary hits from Elle King, part of a diverse repertoire that has a decidedly law and order vibe.
"Being a judge is not only stressful, but there's a lot of secondary trauma. We sit through trials where you have victims testify who have suffered through some really difficult criminal experiences," said Sarah Hennessy, an associate justice of the state Supreme Court.
"This is therapy for us. This is a way to use something creative to feel better," she said.
The judges -- which hail from rural, suburban, and urban communities and include Republican and Democrat appointees -- have also begun performing in public, taking the stage at community gatherings.
"I think that it shows people a side of judges that they don't expect," McKeig said. "It's like, well, no, actually, we're people."
The band is believed to be the only of its kind in the country -- heightening public exposure of the judges at a time when safety risks have kept many others shying from the spotlight.
Recent cases of political violence in Minnesota, in particular, have unsettled McKeig and her peers. Earlier this year, a gunman killed the top Democrat in the state House and her husband, and wounded a state senator and his wife, both at their homes.
"I tell my kids, you are to never acknowledge that I'm your mom," McKeig said, "and that's a sad statement. If somebody says, is your, mother Anne McKeig, you say no. I don't want them to get hurt."
Federal judges have also experienced a wave of threats, particularly those who have handed down rulings against the Trump administration.
Federal District Court Judge John McConnell of Rhode Island, who recently ordered the Trump administration to pay out SNAP food benefits in full during the shutdown, says he's had six credible death threats against his life.
"I've been on the bench almost 15 years, and I must say it's the one time that actually shook my faith in the judicial system, in the rule of law, in the work we do," McConnell said earlier this year during a rare public forum of active federal judges speaking publicly about security concerns.
Dozens of federal and state judges nationwide have reported cases of unsolicited pizza deliveries to their personal homes as acts of intimidation.
A delivery to Judge McConnell's home was in the name of Daniel Anderl, the son of federal Judge Ester Salas of New Jersey who was murdered in 2020 by a disgruntled lawyer posing as a delivery man outside Salas' home.
"To hear that my beautiful son's name -- everything that Danny stands for is love and light, you know -- and to hear people using it as a weapon, weaponizing his name to inflict fear on Judge McConnell," said an emotional Judge Salas during the forum. "Now Florida judges, state judges that are just doing their jobs, are getting pizzas in my beautiful boy's name."
Members of the Reasonable Doubts say they hope the band can inject a spirit of humanity into divisive public rhetoric around courts and judges and maybe even deepen respect for those tasked with upholding rule of law.
"You can have disagreements, but it doesn't mean that we have to be at war with each other," McKeig said.
"And we take care of each other," added Hennesy.
