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Monday August 4, 2025
The Facebook post from the Minneapolis Police Department reads like too many others in recent weeks:
MISSING CHILD – PLEASE SHARE
The Minneapolis Police Department is asking for the public’s help in locating Victoria Alexandria Jackson, a missing 12-year-old girl.
Victoria was last seen walking away from Minnehaha Falls on August 2 around 8:00 p.m. She is diabetic and wears an insulin pump. She is Black. She is just a child.
Courtesy: Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention (OJJDP)
To some, it may sound like another news story. To others, it hits like a punch to the gut. But for too many in Minnesota, especially in communities of color, the feeling is painfully familiar: Another one?
And so the question hangs in the humid August air, heavy and unanswered:
Is anyone paying attention?
Victoria’s disappearance is not an isolated event. It's part of an alarming and disturbing pattern that has emerged across Minnesota—especially in the Twin Cities metro—in just the last few weeks:
And in the midst of these, 15-year-old Louis Tate vanished from Brooklyn Park. 16-year-old Evan Peters, a Monticello teen known for exploring abandoned buildings, thankfully returned home safely. But for many others, the outcomes remain unknown—and the families, desperate.
Each disappearance is different. Each child is more than a name on a flyer. But together, these cases reveal something deeply unsettling. The numbers, the timing, the silence—it all suggests we are not witnessing coincidence.
We are witnessing a crisis.
In any other context, the sudden and repeated disappearances of children would dominate headlines, trigger press conferences, and launch statewide task forces. But here in Minnesota, the response has been alarmingly muted.
We must ask ourselves: What is happening to Minnesota’s children?
And why is it being met with so much silence?
Some cases are written off as “runaways”—a dangerously dismissive term that delays investigations, kills momentum, and dehumanizes victims. When teens go missing, particularly those from marginalized communities, they’re too often treated as troubled instead of endangered. That assumption can be deadly.
We’ve reached a critical breaking point. And yet, Minnesota continues to react as though this is business as usual.
Let’s be clear: there are no easy answers here. Every case is different. Some children may be fleeing abuse. Others may be victims of trafficking. Some may be taken by someone they know. Others may be caught in situations we can’t yet imagine.
But what is indisputable is this:
Too many children are disappearing, and we are not doing enough.
Communities are terrified. Parents are exhausted. Schools will soon reopen, and some seats will remain heartbreakingly empty. Meanwhile, law enforcement continues to issue press releases—many of which go unnoticed, unshared, or unamplified. But we need more than words.
We need:
Minnesota must confront the harsh truth: children are disappearing right under our noses. They are not vanishing into the ether—they are being lost to a system that too often looks away, moves slowly, or acts only when it’s too late.
If Victoria Alexandria Jackson were your daughter, your sister, your student, your neighbor—what would you want the world to do?
The answer is obvious: You’d want everyone to care. To act. To search. To speak.
So why aren’t we?
These teens are not just slipping through the cracks—they’re being ignored by the very structures meant to protect them. And in that collective failure, we risk something greater than individual tragedy—we risk our humanity.
To anyone reading this: Share their photos. Call in tips. Demand accountability. Ask the hard questions.
Because what’s happening now is not just a trend.
It’s a warning.
And it’s time we finally listen.
If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of Victoria Alexandria Jackson or any other missing teen, please call 911 immediately or contact CrimeStoppers anonymously at 1-800-222-TIPS (8477) or www.CrimeStoppersMN.org.
Minnesota, we must do better.
Because our children aren’t just disappearing from our streets.
They’re disappearing from our conscience.
And that may be the greatest tragedy of all.