(A note on my clips: I’ve included nine writing samples.

More are available on my Web

site, libbyanelson.com, under “Reporting & Writing.” Those include the three follow-up
stories for “Who’s your kids’ coach?” as well as more work from my three internships
and background information on each story.)

October 30, 2007 | St. Petersburg Times

Who's your kids' coach?
Some youth programs check sex offender registries but let other offenses slide.

By LIBBY NELSON, Times Staff Writer

ST. PETERSBURG - Three evenings a week, four coaches for the Azalea Bulldogs
football program teach youths ages 7 to 14 to block and pass. Whistles around their
necks, they demonstrate technique, make out plays, encourage young minds.

Among them, they have 45 arrests.

Their records include cocaine sales, weapons offenses and prison time.

"We're supposed to be setting examples and being good mentors," said Sally Johnson,
executive director of the National Council of Youth Sports. "You want to be certain that
we're being responsible and that your children are in the care of upstanding citizens."

The coaches have slipped through a loophole that legislators, advocacy groups and other
counties are trying to close.

The only criminal background check required of the Bulldogs and the 10 other programs
in the Suncoast Youth Football Conference is a search of the sex offender registry.

"What we're looking for is criminal sexual offenders and child pedophiles," said
conference president Lenny Anderson.

The conference declined to provide information about coaches. But background checks
on more than half the coaches in the conference revealed no records comparable to
Azalea's.

The coaches are not without their supporters.

"I'm very careful," said Kim Walter, president of the Azalea Bulldogs division, who
knows the coaches' stories but believes they are a positive influence. "I'm not a cop. I try
to be trusting."

'Very good people'

The coaches are volunteers. From August to November, they give their teams three
evenings a week and most of Saturday.
Finding people willing to make that commitment can be challenging, and the Bulldogs
are not the first to see coaches' records catch up with them.

Last year, Hillsborough County removed a youth football coach who had been convicted
on corruption charges, only to have him reinstated by a committee of volunteers. The
county since has clarified its policy to exclude anyone convicted of felonies within the
past eight years.

Under those guidelines, three of the four Azalea coaches would have been ineligible to
coach.

The Azalea division includes 11 head coaches instructing 400 young players who make
up 10 teams, categorized by age, weight and ability. The Bulldogs' parent organization,
the Suncoast Youth Football Conference, has 11 such divisions in Pinellas County.

The conference requires coaches to list their records, but it also searches a state sex
offender registry for their names. The registry would have given no hint of the four
Azalea coaches' criminal histories.

Adrian Monroe was sentenced to three years in prison in 1997 for cocaine trafficking,
possession of marijuana and carrying a concealed weapon.

He was released in 2000. In 2002, Monroe became an assistant coach.

Monroe, now a head coach, has not discussed his record with players or parents.

Monroe said he filled out his background form honestly when he volunteered but didn't
expect his record to be a problem.

He was arrested 12 times in 11 years, between 1992 and 2003, but most charges are
almost a decade old. Domestic violence charges in 2003 were dropped.

"They're looking for sexual predators, stuff like that," Monroe said.

Other coaches moved even more quickly from prison or probation to the playing field.

Charles Price was arrested for selling cocaine in 2002 and sentenced in May 2003 to
three years' probation.

Three years and three months later, he was an assistant coach.

Price is an assistant to Brian Dozier, who has 14 arrests, most for driving with a
suspended license. As a habitual offender, Dozier was sentenced to a year in jail in 2003.
Now he's back on the practice field.

Head coach Aundre Stevens also had a speedy turnabout.

He pled guilty in 2003 to possession of cocaine and was put on probation. He began
coaching in 2006, the same year he was convicted of grand theft and larceny for writing
a bad check.

Not every criminal offense should eliminate someone from coaching, Azalea Bulldogs
president Walter said.

"Driving with a suspended license -- that's not going to keep a coach off my field,"
Walter said. "Being arrested eight, nine, 10 years ago, that's not either. Two years ago?
Maybe."

She said she believes people can turn their lives around -- and that these coaches have.

"I just think they really are positive role models for these kids," Walter said. "They really
are very good people."

Legislation planned

Cases such as Azalea's have made thorough background checks more common among
youth sports organizations.

But many organizations only consult the state's sex offender registry, which is free and
addresses parents' fears about sexual predators near children.

In the spring 2008 legislative session, legislators will vote on whether that's good
enough.

"It's a loophole left out there for unsavory people to get near our children," said Sen.
Jeremy Ring, D-Margate, who is proposing a bill requiring comprehensive background
checks. "What if your coach was busted for selling crack cocaine a month ago? There's a
lot of criminal activity that parents need to be concerned about."

Ring's bill does not specify what offenses would disqualify a coach. If it passes in the
Legislature's spring session, background check requirements would go into effect in
June 2008.

Some organizations support an even tougher line.

The National Council of Youth Sports' guidelines advise leagues to disqualify coaches
who have been convicted of any felony punishable by a year or more in prison, and any
coaches convicted of a drug crime. Under those rules, none of the four Azalea coaches
would be on the field.

In Hillsborough, the county imposes guidelines that often go beyond those required by
youth organizations, just to ensure no one slips through the cracks.
Pinellas County does not have a similar backstop. Neither do Pinellas public schools and
the city of St. Petersburg.

For example, Azalea players practice on Pinellas school property, but the schools defer
to the city, which requires only a sex offender registry check, said spokesman Paul
Whitehouse.

More comprehensive background checks are too expensive, he said.

That notion is commonly held, but some groups are working to bring down the price.

A criminal history from the state costs $23. USA Football, a nonprofit supporting
amateur football, subsidizes background checks for $15 per coach.

Though the checks are aimed at catching sex offenders, they also screen for all other
offenses.

John Brill, spokesman for Hillsborough Parks, Recreation and Conservation, supports
thorough background checks.

"We don't run the league, but they are on our property," he said. "We're held
accountable in everybody's eyes."

Libby Nelson can be reached at 727 893-8779 or lnelson@sptimes.com.

July 17, 2008 | Star Tribune
Minnetonka Realtor arrested in theft of pain meds
A Minnetonka broker is suspected of stealing drugs from homes he claimed to be
showing.

By LIBBY A. NELSON, Star Tribune

Freddy Akradi came home at lunch Tuesday to clean before what he thought would be
the first showing of his Minnetonka home.

Instead, he found his Siberian husky locked in the garage and pain medication missing
from his kitchen cabinet.

"I knew right away somebody had been in my house," said Akradi, 26.

Police say the culprit was Minnetonka real estate broker Charles Lindley, 64, arrested
that day at another home showing. He's accused of stealing pain medication from
Akradi's home and other houses he had claimed to be showing to clients.

Lindley was in the Hennepin County jail Thursday night pending charges. Police said
they can link him to a similar theft in June and possibly to dozens of other cases.

"My guess is it's going to be lots of houses," said Minnetonka detective Sgt. Dave
Riegert, who's supervising the investigation.

When Lindley was arrested, he had "literally hundreds of listings" for other homes with
him, Riegert said.

"People that are selling their houses are going back and looking in their medicine
cabinets," he said. "They're finding that their hydrocodone [a narcotic pain reliever] is
gone and they didn't know about it."

Lindley, who operates a brokerage agency with his wife, used a real estate database to
search new listings, Riegert said. He would set up a time to show a house, but then
would arrive without clients.

His wife is not under investigation, police said.

After Akradi's real estate agent called police, four officers were waiting at a showing
Lindley had scheduled for Tuesday afternoon, Riegert said.

According to police documents, Lindley was in the house police staked out for less than
five minutes, going straight to the kitchen and pulling bottles of pills from the cupboard.

Police found a sock containing 85 pills in his car, according to the report.
When arrested, Lindley told police that he had become addicted to prescription drugs
during treatment for restless-leg syndrome 10 years ago, according to the report. He
said he has been prescribed pain medication but was supplementing it with the thefts.

Such cases rare

Real estate agents who steal from clients are rare, but such cases do occur, said Bill
Walsh, a spokesman for the Minnesota Department of Commerce, which licenses real
estate agents and brokers.

Lindley was licensed as a broker in 1985, according to Department of Commerce

records. On Wednesday, he agreed to a revocation of his license, Walsh said.

Akradi's real estate agent, Wendy Villella, said the case creates even more problems for
real estate agents in a tough market and taints an honest profession.

"The Realtors out there are sick and tired of having a bad name, and it's very hard to sell
homes when somebody's out there stealing from your sellers," Villella said. "It's a very
difficult market out there, and the Realtors that are surviving are going above and
beyond."

It's difficult to safeguard against dishonest brokers, who, unlike real estate agents, might
not have any contact with homeowners, Walsh said.

Riegert advised people selling their homes to lock up their valuables, including
prescription drugs, just in case. "You don't know if the Realtor's going to get distracted,
or if there's going to be a bunch of people there," he said.

Akradi said he's just glad his dog -- locked in a hot garage on a 90-degree day -- is safe.

"I could care less about the prescription," he said. "I really was worried that my poor dog
was in the garage. God knows how long he was in there for."

And though he blames the economy, not the break-in, he has also decided to wait a little
longer to try to sell his house.

Libby A. Nelson • 612-673-4758

Sept. 18, 2007 | The Times-Tribune (Scranton, Pa.)
Area native's 9/11 remains identified
BY LIBBY NELSON

Even after the plane she was on crashed into the World Trade Center, even after the
blazing inferno that followed, even after the towers collapsed into a twisted mass of steel
and dust, the wedding ring was still on Laura Lee Morabito's finger.

Six years after the Clarks Summit native's death in the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks,
her remains have finally been identified through new methods of DNA testing.

Today, a police escort will bring those remains - including her wedding ring - to Auburn,
N.Y., where Mrs. Morabito's parents and husband will meet them.

"To have this happen was just unbelievable," said her father, Lawrence DeFazio of
Benton Township. "Can you imagine? Six years."

Mrs. Morabito's remains were found the week of Sept. 18, 2001, but identification was
made possible through new DNA tests, said her husband, Mark Morabito.

"I thought my wife was vaporized," he said. "So many people had been told that. You
have a plane go into a building at 560 mph into the 85th floor, and both buildings come
crashing down and you think you have nothing left."

More than 1,100 of the 2,750 people who died at the World Trade Center still have not
been identified. Mrs. Morabito's identification came after the family collected DNA
samples again in June.

The testing used does not require samples as large as those used in tests five years ago.

"After seeing the crash and the huge fire and the high temperatures that were there,
never in my wildest dreams did I think any remains could have been found, but
apparently that's exactly what has happened," Mr. DeFazio said.

The family will hold a funeral in New York, tentatively scheduled for Sept. 28, he said.

"The news was good and the news was bad," he said. "The good news is at least now we
know there will be a burial and a funeral and we'll know she's here."

Mrs. Morabito will be buried in Auburn, where her husband already established a grave
site.

"It's a blessing," Mr. Morabito said. "It's something I can't fathom, being able to bring
her back to my family and the resting place I've prepared."

Mrs. Morabito, a 1984 graduate of Abington Heights High School, was a national
corporate sales executive for Qantas Airlines who lived in Framingham, Mass.
On 9/11, she was on her way to a business meeting in California when her plane -
American Airlines Flight 11 - became the first to crash into the World Trade Center.

Earlier this year, a group of Clarks Summit residents began planning a memorial for her,
which will be unveiled Oct. 20 during the Abington Heights homecoming celebrations.

"I don't believe in coincidences," said Tom Parry, who is helping plan the memorial. "I
really think that's a sign from up above that we're on the right track and doing the right
thing for the community."

The memorial, and the funeral, will give the family more closure, Mr. DeFazio said.

And though the remains are incomplete, what matters is that they - and the ring - are on
their way, Mr. Morabito said.

"I don't talk about remains," he said. "That's my wife coming back."

Contact the writer: lnelson@timesshamrock.com.

July 8, 2008 | Star Tribune
From freeway to greenway as workers dust off bikes
Rush hour hits the bike lanes as high gas prices push people to pedal to work.

By LIBBY NELSON, Star Tribune

When Marian Hayes took an evening bicycle ride along the Midtown Greenway in
Minneapolis last year, she felt as if she had the trail to herself.

Now the greenway is a freeway. Fast cyclists pass slower ones on the left. Commuters get
on and off via exit ramps. Traffic moves along at 15 miles per hour.

"You feel like you're in rush hour," said Hayes, who commutes 25 miles roundtrip from
Mendota Heights to downtown Minneapolis.

The latest bicycle boom has little to do with fitness and everything to do with $4 gas.
People are hauling long-neglected bikes to repair shops and snapping up bicycle
saddlebags. In Minneapolis, already home to the nation's second-highest number of
bicycle commuters, the network of bicycle paths is getting crowded.

Metro Transit expected 700 people to enroll by January 2009 in its new program
encouraging commuters to cycle to work. More than 1,100 have signed up in the first
seven weeks.

The bicycle traffic on one bridge linking Minneapolis and St. Paul jumped by 50 percent
over the past year.

"A lot of people are pulling old bikes out of mothballs," said Steve Phyle, owner of Tonka
Cycle and Ski in Minnetonka. "There's people resurrecting stuff that I wouldn't
resurrect, but I think that's the economy."

Commuter accessories such as grocery bag racks have become must-haves, sold out
from some suppliers and wholesalers. Baskets and lights are also in demand, as are 27-
inch tires, not used on new bicycles since the 1980s.

Though bicycle retailers are seeing more customers, they are also selling fewer high-end
bicycles, which can cost $3,000 or more.

Many shops' repair appointments are booked for weeks. The growth is especially
significant for retailers near downtown Minneapolis, where commuters can easily switch
to cycling.

Suburban residents are using bicycles more frequently to run errands, even if they won't
take them to work, said Dave Olson, president of Erik's Bike Shop.

"A lot of people, because they've got a 20-mile commute, are tying it into more of a local
lifestyle thing," Olson said.
Not every suburban bike shop is benefiting.

"When you look at most people who have a job, they drive a ways to work," said John
Obara, owner of Bikemaster in St. Louis Park, who said business has been average to
slow. "It's a lifestyle change if you are traveling any distance at all."

Still, many commuters are willing to make that change.

Between May 2007 and May 2008, the number of cyclists on the Lake Street Bridge
jumped 50 percent, said Steve Clark, the walking and bicycling program manager for
Transit for Livable Communities.

"That one is pretty representative of the overall city," Clark said. "We've seen some
gradual increases, but this is really the first big jump."

Bike2Benefits, the Metro Transit program offering incentives for bicycle commuting,
began in May. Since then, its members have logged 67,000 miles of bicycle commutes,
said Bob Gibbons, director of customer services for Metro Transit.

One of them, Amanda Ressler of St. Paul, last got a new ride -- a purple mountain bike --
at 14.

She won a commuter bicycle during Bike Walk Week and tries to ride it for her 8-mile
commute at least three times a week.

"The first day was kind of a challenge," Ressler, 28, said. "I didn't know very good
streets, and I took Snelling and it was kind of terrifying because of the on-ramp with I-
94, so that was really scary."

Minneapolis City Council Member Scott Benson also began cycling on Bike Walk day,
commuting on his bicycle at least once a week since then.

"I never thought about using [a bicycle] to come in the morning for work," said Benson,
who rides 11 miles round-trip. "Really, what governs it now is whether or not I have to
wear a suit that day."

Most retailers said that, with gas prices climbing and people discovering the advantages
of cycling, they don't expect to see business decline anytime soon.

"We think obviously the kick start to this is fuel prices, but as more and more people
start to realize it's an option, it's kind of 'follow the leader,'" Olson said. "As more people
integrate it into their communities, it's a piece of the lifestyle."

Libby Nelson • 612-673-4758

Aug. 20, 2008 | Star Tribune
At the old beer game
A University of Minnesota study of alcohol sales at pro sports events finds it's not hard
to get a drink when you shouldn't.

By LIBBY NELSON, Star Tribune

Metrodome beer vendor Jeff Scroggins knows a drunk fan when he sees one: slurring
words, avoiding eye contact, trying to mask how much he or she has had. He said he
won't sell them any of the $6.75 bottles he carries through the stands.

"I'm here to make money, but you gotta be responsible," Scroggins said.

Not all vendors are so scrupulous, a University of Minnesota study of alcohol sales at the
"big four" pro sports events has found. The study, released Wednesday by the
university's Division of Epidemiology and Community Health, looked at 16 sports
stadiums in five states from September 2005 to November 2006. It found that nearly
three out of four people posing as intoxicated fans and one out of five trying to pass as
underage drinkers without ID succeeded in buying alcohol.

Underage or intoxicated drinkers have about equal chances of being served regardless of
whether they're attending pro football, basketball, baseball or hockey games, said lead
researcher Traci Toomey, an associate professor at the university's School of Public
Health.

Because the study involved human subjects, Toomey said, she couldn't give any specifics
on the stadiums, not even saying in what parts of the country the stadiums are located.
She wants to focus on the problem nationwide, saying stadiums are a "high-risk setting"
for alcohol use.

Drinking at the stadium

"Alcohol is related to a lot of problems we deal with in our society," she said. "At a
stadium, you have a large group of people trying to watch a game. They don't want a
drink spilled on them, they don't want to be next to a fight breaking out, they don't want
to have someone next to them so loud they can't hear the game, they don't want to get in
their car and have someone next to them who's had too much to drink."

The study hired people older than 21 who were judged to look underage and actors
selected on their ability to feign drunkenness. The actors would slur their words, fumble
with money and repeat themselves while trying to buy a drink, sometimes spraying
themselves with alcohol beforehand to add to the effect.

Those pretending to be underage would try to buy a beer without ID, Toomey said.

The subjects found that buying alcohol in the stands was nearly three times easier than
at a concession stand.
At the Metrodome, vendors are "very proactive" about illegal alcohol sales, said Dennis
Alfton, director of operations.

32 seats of difficulty

Vendors in the seating area are required to check ID of anyone who looks too young to
drink legally, though that can be difficult because there may be as many as 32 seats
between aisles, Alfton said.

"That is a challenge, and one we're looking at," he said. "If employees are found to sell to
underage drinkers, they are immediately terminated."

The Metrodome has passed recent compliance checks by the city, he said. "Those issues
are high priorities for us and have been so for a number of years," Alfton said.

Scroggins said he's been trained to recognize drunken patrons but doesn't see them "as
often as you might think." "The bigger the game, the more it happens," he said. He
added that other fans often tip vendors off when a would-be buyer has already had too
much.

Twins fans tend to be responsible drinkers, said vendor Ryan Wegner, who was selling
beer in the cheap seats of the Metrodome during the Twins victory over Oakland on
Wednesday.

"People, if they're drinking at all, usually only have two or three beers," he said.

Underage drinking is a well-publicized problem, Toomey said. The consequences of

more drinking by those who are already drunk has gotten less attention.

She said she hopes stadiums are concerned about both situations. "My goal as a
researcher in public health is to identify issues that may contribute to problems we're
facing in our society," she said. "Hopefully, it opens up a dialogue."

Libby Nelson • 612-673-4758

July 15, 2008 | Star Tribune
Higher transit fares don't sit well with riders
Opponents don't appear likely to head off a 25-cent increase in bus and train fares by the
Met Council to ease a budget deficit.

By LIBBY NELSON, Star Tribune

On the last day of hearings on a proposed 25-cent bus and train fare increase, the
Metropolitan Council chamber had become an echo chamber.

At least 20 people in a row came forward with the same theme: You've heard this from
everyone who spoke before me, but raising fares is a bad idea.

Opponents of the increase, which would go into effect Oct. 1, include Minneapolis'
mayor, social service providers, advocates for greener living and everyday bus riders.

Though they have suggestions on other ways to get the money, they appear unlikely to
change the outcome of the Met Council's planned vote on Aug. 13: a fare increase that
would provide $7 million toward filling a $15 million deficit in the transit budget.

A second increase of 50 cents would be a possibility next year.

"Twenty-five cents is a big jump when you're paying $1.50 per ride," said Carol Kist, who
gets to work in St. Paul on the bus. "If I have to pay 50 cents more a day to go 6 miles to
work, it's going to be cheaper for me to drive."

At the hearing Tuesday, Kist and other opponents of the increase questioned the
wisdom of raising fares at a time when public transit ridership in the metro area is at an
all-time high, warning that the extra cost would especially burden homeless, disabled
and low-income residents.

Waiting for the light rail Tuesday, Minneapolis resident Quincy Thomas is among those
who would be most affected by the increased fares.

Thomas, who lives in a group home for people with mental illness, was on his way to
apply for an apartment at Riverside Plaza.

"It's a nice transit system, but I think there shouldn't be a rate increase," he said.

Local social service providers said raising fares should be a last resort.

"One of the biggest challenges [the homeless] have is to get good work and
transportation to their work," said Terence Goudy, a co-founder of Homeless against
Homelessness.

"I really feel like there should be another way to find this money."
There are few options, said Met Council Public Affairs Director Steve Dornfeld. The last
time the council raised fares, in 2005, diesel fuel was $1.59 per gallon.

It now costs more than twice that amount.

Falling car sales have also resulted in less money for mass transit, because transit gets
most of its state revenue from the motor vehicle sales tax.

One option is leaning more heavily on the Met Council's $20 million contingency fund
until the state Legislature could vote to provide more funding, a possibility
recommended by Minneapolis Mayor R.T. Rybak, as well as advocacy group Transit for
Livable Communities.

Increasing fares will drive away riders, even with gas prices soaring, Rybak said.

"The last tough choice we should make is to raise bus fares at a time when more people
than ever are considering switching to mass transit," he said.

But the contingency fund is already being used to cover some of the budget deficit, and
the council is reluctant to dip deeper.

"Revenues fluctuate from month to month, so you need to keep a little extra in your
checking account because you don't know how much your paycheck is going to be from
the state," Dornfeld said.

The state has had tight budgets, as well, so more funding from the Legislature is not a
guarantee, he added.

For St. Paul transit rider John Garcia, who gave up his car in favor of a bicycle and the
bus last year, transit is an area where the Legislature's funding can do "the most good
with a pittance."

"The price doesn't bother me," he said of the potential increase. "But the trouble is it
excludes people who really need it."

The legislature would probably support increased funding for public transit, said state
Sen. Scott Dibble, DFL-Minneapolis, a member of the Transportation Finance
Subcommittee.

"The public will have to make its case and legislators who care about this will have to
make a case," Dibble said.

"But budgeting is a function of values and priorities, and it's clearly a huge priority
politically."

Libby Nelson • 612-673-4758

Nov. 3, 2007 | St. Petersburg Times
He staves off 'killer' menace
Aggressive bees are spreading.

By LIBBY NELSON, Times Staff Writer

In an average work day as a state apiary inspector, Todd Jameson drives 200 miles
across four counties in a Department of Agriculture pickup truck.

He gets stung 20 times - on the wrist, under the fingernails, bees sometimes crawling up
his jeans all the way to the thigh.

He sticks his hands into beehives without gloves and kills killer bees with soapy water.

"It's not a job that people are jumping to get," Jameson said. "Nobody wants to be stung
by bees every day."

Jameson is one of 13 Florida apiary inspectors, a group whose main responsibility used
to be making sure beekeepers' hives were disease- and parasite-free.

But when Africanized honeybees, better known as "killer bees," arrived in Florida in
2002, apiary inspectors became the first line of defense against the vicious insects that
state officials now say make up the majority of Florida's wild bee population.

"We're here to protect the bee industry in the state," Jameson said. "That's why we do
what we do. We cannot have Africanized bees taking over."

Though their stings are no more venomous than ordinary, or European, honeybees',
Africanized bees attack in greater numbers. If a colony of European bees is disturbed,
about 200 bees will attack. If they're Africanized, as many as 50,000 go after the
intruder.

The bees sting inside victims' noses and mouths. Jump in the water to escape, and the
swarm will hover above it, waiting, for up to half an hour.

In September, a Texas man died after bees stung him more than 1,000 times.

The best chance of getting away? Run, Jameson said. The bees can fly up to 12 mph for a
quarter-mile.

No bee-related deaths have occurred in Florida so far.

"You treat all bees with respect, because you can't tell what they are by looking at them,"
Jameson said.

Africanized bees are slightly smaller than European bees, but the difference is visible
only with a microscope in a lab.
Jameson monitors the wild bee population with 104 bait hives spread across Pasco,
Pinellas, Hillsborough and Manatee counties.

Every three weeks, as long as it takes for a queen bee's eggs to hatch, Jameson checks
the bait hives. If he finds bees, he calms them with smoke before killing them with soapy
water.

He only needs a few hundred dead bees for the lab techs in Gainesville, but the hive
might be Africanized, so he kills them all: 15,000 to 20,000 bees.

"A lot of what we're trapping is coming back as Africanized, and that's scary," Jameson
said. "We knew it was going to come to this."

Most days are spent on the road. When the Department of Agriculture got him a new
Ford pickup in April, it had 26 miles on the odometer. Now it has more than 22,000.

Next to his cup of coffee is a pint jar of about 300 dead bees, packed in alcohol and
waiting to be sent to Gainesville for testing.

A former beekeeper, Jameson does the job because he loves bees. When he was a
farmer, he was intrigued by the way a beekeeper worked with the bees pollinating his
crops, he said.

"I guess things happen in your life once in awhile, and it gets in your blood," he said.

He and his father started with three colonies - just a hobby. Three became six, six
became 12, until they had 1,000 colonies and a business, Grange Hall Bee Corp.

Now he is concerned about beekeeping as an industry. Most of the 130 beekeepers he

inspects are hobbyists with fewer than 10 colonies. More bee diseases and parasites exist
than did 20 years ago. As the number of beekeepers declines, so does the number of
bees.

"It's a vanishing industry," Jameson said. "There are so many problems we've got now
that we didn't used to have."

In some ways, the Africanized bees are not the worst of the problem. As long as
beekeepers are vigilant, and the inspectors keep up their work, the problem can be
contained, he said.

"It's like the fire ants," he said. "We've learned to live with them. We'll have to learn to
live with Africanized honeybees."
Aug. 18, 2008 | Star Tribune
Hennepin County is saving lives via DWI court
More than 100 repeat offenders have entered the court and only one has been convicted
of reoffending.

By LIBBY NELSON, Star Tribune

When Mark Flakne wants his car to start, he breathes on it.

If there's no alcohol on his breath, the car starts. If he's trying to drink and drive -- and
that hasn't happened, Flakne said -- a machine turns off the engine. He can try again in
six hours.

Flakne, 42, a carpenter with multiple DWI convictions, normally wouldn't be behind the
wheel at all. But now he can drive with the sensor, called an ignition interlock, as part of
the Hennepin County DWI court program, an 18-month regimen for repeat offenders
designed to stop them from drinking and driving again.

Of about 110 participants in the court so far, only one has been convicted again for
drunken driving. In Ramsey County, which began a similar program in 2005, three of 73
participants have been convicted again, and none since 2006.

Repeat DWI offenders usually have a 60 percent to 80 percent chance of reoffending.

"We're saving lives," said Fourth District Judge John Holohan, who oversees the DWI
court. "Not only the lives of the offenders, because a lot of those people are out-of-
control alcoholic and their fate if they don't get help is an untimely death. We're also
protecting society from the worst of the worst of the drunken drivers."

DWI court hasn't only saved lives, Holohan said. It's also saved Hennepin County about
$500,000.

The court costs about $2,000 per participant, or more than $5,000 less than the
traditional 90 days in jail for repeat offenders.

"Locking somebody up to punish them, and doing nothing to address the underlying
behavior, is costing the taxpayers $7,000 to $8,000," he said. "What we're doing is
changing the behavior."

Niki Leicht, who directs the DWI court program in Ramsey County, said the county
hasn't yet evaluated the costs and savings, but is planning to compare court participants
to a group DWI offenders who chose the traditional probation route.

In Hennepin County, repeat offenders, usually with at least three DWI convictions, can
apply to participate in the court. Instead of the usual 90-day jail sentence, they serve six
days, then undergo a screening procedure. If they pass, they're accepted to the program,
agreeing to meet weekly with a probation officer, attend Alcoholics Anonymous
meetings and let probation or police officers conduct random searches at their home.

In return, participants who normally would have their licenses suspended or revoked,
can drive with the ignition interlock for a set amount of hours per week to work, court
and Alcoholics Anonymous.

Ramsey County's program requires participants to be sober in stages: 90 consecutive

days at first, then 120, then 180, Leicht said, and doesn't offer the driving option.

The program's success rate is partly based on the participants it chooses. The screening
process selects offenders who think they need help, not those looking to avoid jail time
and go back to old habits, Holohan said.

"We're not taking in people that are noncompliant or who are trying to get in here just to
get out of doing the 90 days in jail," he said. "We're taking in people that we believe have
a sincere commitment to turning their lives around and getting sober."

Forced to make changes

Flakne is one of them. After his most recent DWI conviction, in February 2007, he
decided it was time for a change. His attorney suggested DWI court. A little less than 18
months later, he became the program's third graduate a few weeks ago.

"Instead of just sitting in jail and stewing about the mistakes I had made ... it forced me
to make some lifestyle changes," Flakne said.

Educating drunken drivers about the effects of their actions can have a positive impact,
said Jean Mulvey, executive director of Minnesota's chapter of Mothers Against Drunk
Driving, which works with the Hennepin County court system to show things from the
victim's perspective.

"We want them to change their behavior so that they realize some of the different
consequences," Mulvey said.

The process made Flakne realize he was going to be back in jail if he didn't change.

"Fortunately for me, the only person I hurt was myself," he said. "There are people
who've done a lot worse. But you know what, it was probably just a matter of time."

Libby Nelson • 612-673-4758

Aug. 7, 2008 | Star Tribune
Ralph was a pretty good Minneapolis grocer
By LIBBY NELSON, Star Tribune

For 42 years at Dokken's Superette, there were a lot of things you couldn't do.

You couldn't get your morning coffee, since 80-year-old owner Ralph Dokken has
always opened at 9 a.m.

You couldn't buy a lottery ticket, because they take too long for the people behind you in
line. You couldn't pay with debit or credit card, but Dokken could write the purchase on
your tab, filing it away under the counter.

This morning is the end of an era: Dokken is handing over the keys to the south
Minneapolis store he sold this year.

"We're a modern store with old-fashioned service," Dokken said.

The Roosevelt High yearbooks he kept behind the counter have been packed. Most
customers have paid their tabs, though some remain. Regulars have come to say
goodbye with cards and a cake.

"He's just amazing -- you'd never believe he's 80," said Marty Demgen, who says he
stops by the store nearly every day. "There's other nice people that purvey convenience
in the area, but I look at him as a real pioneer. We'll miss him."

Dokken, who served seven years in the Navy and 13 years in the Reserves before
working for an airline, bought the store when he was 39.

His six children helped him stock the shelves. His oldest son, Steve, still helps him run
it.

"We were practically raised in the store," said Sara Bertges, Dokken's daughter, who said
that she and her siblings all worked their way through college there at $2 or $3 per hour.

The south Minneapolis neighborhood has always been good, always working-class, with
a small-town feel in the city, said Dokken. He compares it to Andy Griffith's Mayberry.

For the past 42 years, students have walked the two blocks from Roosevelt High School
during their lunch hour. Dokken is sure he saw former Gov. Jesse Ventura (James
Janos), a 1969 Roosevelt graduate, on the other side of his cash register in the store's
early years.

Most of Dokken's business is in the basics: milk, chips, soda, cigarettes, beer. He sold
scratch-off lottery tickets for awhile, but "the only people that bought them were the
ones that couldn't afford them," he said.
Dokken still measures produce on a Depression-era scale that can price all the way
down to a penny a pound, but has evolved more toward convenience store fare.

Dokken has seen "seven or eight" owners come and go at Flag Foods, the convenience
store just across 28th Avenue from his. The last change at Dokken's was in 1985, when
he remodeled and added freezers.

"After awhile you get really complacent," Dokken said, adding that the new owner will
make changes he should have made: opening earlier, adding a coffee bar, taking Visa.

For years, his children wanted him to sell the store, worried about his age, Bertges said.
This spring, he was robbed and beaten on St. Patrick's Day.

"I'm 80 years old. I'm tired," Dokken said. But he's not sure what he'll do now: "I have
no hobbies."

Today, he's taking a final inventory at 8 a.m., then closing until 10 a.m., when the new
owner will take over.

The few tabs stacked on the counter, with "Minute Maid juice" or "bag of ice"
handwritten next to prices, will probably just go unpaid.

Dokken's Superette will still be the neighborhood store, but not the same without
Dokken, shopper Demgen said.

"I'll still be going there," he said. "But I won't make the point of going there that I always
have."

Libby Nelson • 612-673-4758