St. Paul's police chief has formally accused Democratic Mayor Kaohly Her of sending sexually suggestive texts to city employees, triggering an independent investigation barely six months into her historic tenure.
Police Chief Axel Henry filed the complaint after what his attorney described as a pattern of misconduct that went well beyond a one-time lapse in judgment. In an April 1 letter to St. Paul City Attorney Irene Kao, Henry's lawyer Chris Madel wrote that the chief acted "after becoming aware that the Mayor's conduct has extended beyond isolated incidents." The letter, obtained by KSTP, alleged that Her had "engaged in illegal conduct towards city employees" and used "one or more mobile phones to communicate inappropriate, and, indeed, unlawful text messages."
Among the messages cited in the complaint: a text reading "Happy Weiner Wednesday!" sent to a city employee, along with a digitally altered image of a baby with a St. Paul police officer's face superimposed on it. Above the image, a caption read: "When she wraps you up in a blanket after you gave her a good weinering." Her, 53, also allegedly sent a prior text expressing that she wished she was having hot dogs "with you all on 6 today," accompanied by two crying-with-laughter emojis.
The identity of the officer whose face was edited onto the image has not been disclosed. Nor has the city identified the specific employee who received the messages.
Madel's letter did not stop at notifying the city attorney. He asked St. Paul to "immediately take all steps necessary to perform a full filesystem extraction" of all of Her's phones, a request aimed at preserving digital evidence before anything could be deleted. He described future litigation as "reasonably foreseeable."
Henry, through his attorney, framed the complaint as an effort to "address the wrongdoing but also create a measure of protection for his team." Madel told the New York Post that the chief had "better things to do than deal with this" and declined further comment.
An unnamed source also alleged that Her engaged in unwanted physical contact toward Henry. No further details about that allegation have been made public, and the source was not identified.
The city has opened an independent investigation. Cally Kjellberg-Nelson, an employment litigation attorney at Resolute Law, is conducting the review. Her's office has not said when the investigation will conclude or whether findings will be shared publicly.
Mayor Her's spokesperson, Matt Wagenius, issued a statement that stopped well short of a denial. He said the city would not comment on an active investigation, then added:
"The mayor has deep respect for city employees and regrets any unintended impact her actions may have had."
In a separate statement attributed to The Minnesota Star Tribune, Wagenius said: "We will honor all applicable laws when making the determination on the report." The St. Paul Police Department told the Daily Mail it would not offer comment.
Read that spokesperson statement again. "Regrets any unintended impact her actions may have had" does not dispute the texts. It does not claim they were fabricated or taken out of context. It concedes that actions occurred and frames the fallout as unintended, a formulation that acknowledges conduct while minimizing responsibility.
That kind of lawyered non-denial has become familiar in political misconduct cases. Democrats have faced a string of embarrassing sexting and misconduct scandals in recent years, and the playbook rarely varies: express vague regret, invoke an active investigation to avoid answering questions, and wait for the news cycle to move on.
Henry's complaint is not the first time Her has faced allegations of inappropriate personal conduct since taking office. Earlier this year, a former family friend named Shirly Yang filed a separate allegation of sexual misconduct against the mayor. Yang also sought a restraining order in Ramsey County District Court.
Yang claimed that Her introduced her to a state representative who became her on-and-off boyfriend and that the lawmaker began asking intrusive questions about their sex life. Yang further alleged that Her initiated unwanted conversations about sexuality and spirituality and engaged in threatening behavior.
Ramsey County District Court Referee Elizabeth Clysdale ruled against Yang's restraining order petition, finding that Her had not threatened Yang and citing a lack of evidence. That ruling disposed of the restraining order request but did not address the broader misconduct allegations Yang had raised.
The Yang episode and the Henry complaint involve different accusers, different alleged conduct, and different legal postures. But together they form a pattern of allegations that has trailed Her through her first months in office, a troubling trajectory for any elected official, and especially for one who made history winning the job.
Her was elected last November as the first woman and first Hmong person to serve as St. Paul's mayor. Born in Laos, she moved to the United States as a refugee at age four and went on to serve in the Minnesota House of Representatives, covering parts of St. Paul. Her rise was treated as a milestone, a refugee who climbed from a difficult beginning to the top of city government.
That narrative now competes with a very different one. Barely half a year into her term, the city's top law enforcement officer has formally accused her of sexual harassment. Her attorney has put the city on notice that a lawsuit may follow. An outside investigator is reviewing her conduct. And the mayor's own office cannot bring itself to say the allegations are false.
The question of whether Her's phones have been preserved as Madel requested remains unanswered. So does the question of whether any formal litigation has been filed beyond the internal complaint. Government offices have a long history of slow-walking misconduct disclosures, and St. Paul taxpayers have reason to wonder whether they will ever see the full picture.
If the roles were reversed, if a male Republican mayor had sent sexually suggestive texts about "weinering" to a female subordinate, complete with doctored images of a colleague, the story would lead every cable broadcast for a week. When political figures on the left face personal scandals, the coverage tends to arrive quieter and leave faster.
Henry's complaint lays out conduct that, if substantiated, would end most careers in the private sector before lunch. A boss sending explicit texts to employees, doctoring photos of subordinates into sexually themed images, and allegedly making unwanted physical contact is not a gray area. It is textbook workplace harassment, the kind that human-resources departments exist to prevent and that employment lawyers exist to litigate.
Voters have shown they are willing to hold scandal-plagued Democrats accountable when the facts reach them. Whether St. Paul residents get that chance depends on how transparent the independent investigation turns out to be, and whether city officials treat the complaint with the seriousness it demands or bury it behind procedural delays.
Accountability does not care about milestones. If the police chief's allegations hold up, the first woman to lead St. Paul will have earned her place in the city's history for all the wrong reasons.
