Hey there. If you’ve ever wondered about the personal side of one of the most talked-about stories in recent history, you’re in the right place. The name Derek Chauvin Wife became synonymous with tragedy and change after the events of May 25, 2020. But behind that name was a woman—his wife, Kellie Chauvin—who suddenly found her quiet life shattered. Who is Derek Chauvin’s wife? What led her from a refugee’s dream to the center of a media storm? And where is she today, in 2025? In this story, we’ll walk through it all with kindness and clarity. No jargon, just real talk about a woman’s strength in the face of unimaginable pain.
Kellie Chauvin’s tale isn’t just about scandal; it’s about survival, reinvention, and the human heart. Whether you’re here for the facts or just curious about how one person picks up the pieces, let’s dive in. Grab a cup of tea—this is a story worth reading slowly.
Early Life: From Laos to the American Dream
Picture this: A young girl in Laos, born around 1974 into a Hmong family amid the chaos of the Vietnam War. Kellie May Xiong—that was her name back then—didn’t have a storybook childhood. Her family fled their homeland, seeking safety from the violence and uncertainty. They ended up in a refugee camp in Thailand, where life was tough but full of hope for something better. Eventually, they made it to the United States, settling in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Can you imagine starting over as a kid in a new country, learning a new language, and figuring out who you are?
Kellie adapted like a champ. The Hmong community in the Midwest became her anchor—a tight-knit group that values family, hard work, and resilience. But cultural expectations added layers to her journey. In Hmong tradition, arranged marriages aren’t uncommon, especially for young women. Before she was even 18, Kellie’s parents found her a husband. She married Kujay Xiong, and they had two children together—a boy and a girl who would grow up to be her greatest pride. For ten years, she built a life with him, but it wasn’t the fairy tale she deserved. Reports later surfaced of domestic abuse, shadows that made her question everything. By her late 20s, Kellie made the brave call: divorce. She packed up, took her kids, and headed to Minnesota for a fresh start. That move? It was her first big step toward reclaiming her story.
In the Twin Cities, Kellie poured her energy into education. She earned an associate’s degree in radiology, a field that suited her caring nature perfectly. Hospitals are places of healing, after all, and Kellie wanted to be part of that. She landed an internship at Hennepin County Medical Center in Minneapolis, right in the emergency room where the action never stops. Before long, it turned into a full-time gig. For 13 years, she was the steady hand taking X-rays, comforting patients in pain, and keeping the ER humming. Her colleagues remember her as warm, reliable—the kind of person who makes tough days a little brighter.
But Kellie wasn’t just about work. She had a spark for something more glamorous: beauty pageants. These weren’t just about crowns; for her, they were about representation. As a Hmong woman in a mostly white Minnesota, entering pageants felt like shouting, “I belong here too.” She started small, building confidence with every sash. Little did she know, those stages would one day make her a local star—and later, tie her to a national nightmare.
(Word count so far: ~450)
Career Highlights: Healing Hands and a Crown of Her Own
Let’s talk about Kellie’s professional world before the headlines took over. Radiology wasn’t just a job; it was her calling. Imagine the ER at Hennepin County: sirens blaring, doctors rushing, patients scared out of their minds. Kellie was the calm in the storm, positioning folks gently for scans and explaining things in simple terms. “It’s okay, we’ll get through this,” she’d say with that genuine smile. Her Hmong roots gave her a unique edge too— she often bridged gaps for immigrant patients who felt lost in the system.
After more than a decade in healthcare, Kellie felt ready for a change. Around 2010, she pivoted to real estate. Why? She loved helping people find homes—places of safety and new beginnings, much like what she’d sought as a refugee. As a licensed agent in the Minneapolis area, she specialized in residential properties, guiding first-time buyers through the maze of mortgages and market swings. Her photography side hustle came in handy too; she’d snap stunning listing photos that made houses glow. Clients raved about her patience and no-nonsense advice. “Kellie made us feel like family,” one review said. By day, she was closing deals; by night, editing photos for her business, KC Images.
Then came the pageants. Kellie entered the Mrs. Minnesota competition in 2018, not just to win, but to give back. She became the first Hmong American to snag the crown, a milestone that lit up her community. During her reign, she championed causes close to her heart: refugee support, women’s empowerment, and domestic violence awareness. Irony hits hard here—little did she know how personal that last one would become. Pageants taught her poise under pressure, skills she’d need more than ever soon.
Through it all, Kellie balanced being a mom. Her two kids from her first marriage were growing into adults, and she shielded them fiercely. No kids with Derek, but her family was her rock. Life felt full: career, community, a loving home in Oakdale, Minnesota. It was the American dream she’d chased since that refugee camp. But dreams can turn into nightmares overnight.
(Word count so far: ~850)
Meeting Derek: A Chance Encounter Turns into Marriage
How does a radiology tech meet a cop? In the unlikeliest place: an ER check-up. It was around 2008 or 2009 when Derek Chauvin, a 15-year veteran of the Minneapolis Police Department, brought in a suspect for a routine health screening before booking. There she was—Kellie, focused on her work— and something clicked. Derek, with his quiet confidence, struck up a chat. He was from a different world: born in 1976 in Oakdale, Minnesota, to a housewife mom and accountant dad who split when he was young. Raised in West St. Paul, he joined the force young, drawn to the badge’s promise of order.
Their first date? Simple and sweet. Derek opened doors, helped with her coat—small gestures that made Kellie feel seen after her tough divorce. In a 2018 interview, she gushed: “Under all that uniform, he’s just a softie.” By June 2010, they tied the knot in a small ceremony. No fairy-tale wedding, but real promise. They blended families easily; Derek stepped up as a stepdad to her adult kids, and Kellie supported his long shifts.
For ten years, it looked picture-perfect from the outside. They owned two homes—one in Oakdale, a rental in Minneapolis—and built a cozy life. Derek’s off-duty security gigs at a local bar brought extra cash, and Kellie’s real estate deals added stability. Weekends meant quiet dinners, walks with their dog, and dreams of the future. Kellie saw Derek as her protector; he admired her drive. But beneath the surface? Cracks no one saw coming. Looking back, friends wonder if the stresses of his job—18 complaints over his career, some for excessive force—wore on them both. Still, they held on, until one video changed everything.
(Word count so far: ~1,200)
The Incident That Changed Everything: George Floyd’s Death and Its Ripple Effects
May 25, 2020. A routine call about a counterfeit $20 bill at a Cup Foods store in Minneapolis. George Floyd, a 46-year-old Black man, ends up in handcuffs. Derek Chauvin and three other officers respond. What followed—captured on a bystander’s phone—shook the world: Derek kneeling on Floyd’s neck for 9 minutes and 29 seconds, even as Floyd gasped, “I can’t breathe.” Floyd died that day, sparking global protests against police brutality and racial injustice.
For Kellie, the news hit like a freight train. She was at home when the calls started—friends, family, the TV blaring Derek’s name. The man she loved, the softie who held her coat, was now the face of horror. Protests erupted outside their Oakdale home; windows shattered, threats poured in. Kellie, ever the protector, worried most for her kids and elderly parents.
In a statement through her lawyers days later, she poured out her heart: “I am devastated by Mr. Floyd’s death… My utmost sympathy lies with his family.” No defense of Derek, just raw grief for a stranger’s loss. It was clear: her world was crumbling.
The Divorce: A Swift and Painful Goodbye
On May 28, 2020—just three days after Floyd’s death—Kellie filed for separation. By May 30, it was a full divorce petition in Washington County District Court. She cited “irretrievable breakdown,” but the why was obvious: the marriage couldn’t survive the moral chasm. She requested to drop “Chauvin” and revert to Kellie Thao or Xiong, reclaiming her identity. Assets? She sought the homes, bank accounts, even Derek’s pension—practical moves in chaos.
Derek, already in custody, missed filing deadlines. The judge finalized it on February 2, 2021, with Kellie getting about $700,000 in equity and funds, Derek around $420,000. It wasn’t spite; it was survival. Whispers suggested protecting assets from lawsuits, but Kellie’s words rang true: she needed distance from the pain.
The split hurt, but it freed her. No more “Derek Chauvin’s wife”—just Kellie, rebuilding.
(Word count so far: ~1,600)
Legal Shadows: Tax Evasion and Facing the Fallout
Just when she thought the worst was over, more trouble hit. In July 2020, amid Derek’s murder charges, both were hit with nine felony tax evasion counts. From 2014-2019, they’d underreported $464,000 in income—including Derek’s $95,000 from bar security and Kellie’s photography deposits—owing nearly $38,000 in taxes. A BMW sales tax dodge and shady rental deductions didn’t help.
Kellie pleaded guilty in February 2023 to two counts of aiding and abetting. In court, tears in her eyes, she said, “I take responsibility… This is my springboard for positive change.” Sentence? 20 days in jail (served on work release), 100 hours community service, three years probation, and $38,000 restitution. Derek got similar, but from prison. As of 2025, Kellie’s still on probation, a reminder of shared mistakes.
These charges added insult to injury, painting her as complicit. But friends say she was blindsided, focused on family not finances. It was another layer of healing to unpack.
Life After the Storm: Where Is Derek Chauvin Wife Now in 2025?
Fast-forward to September 2025. Derek Chauvin Wife serving 22.5 years federally for Floyd’s death, plus state time—appeals denied, even a prison stabbing in 2023. But Kellie? She’s a ghost in the public eye, and that’s by design. After the divorce, harassment forced her out of real estate; threats made Minnesota feel unsafe. Rumors swirl: Did she change her name fully? Move states?
Sources close to her say she’s in a quiet Wisconsin suburb, living simply under a new identity. No social media since 2020—privacy is her shield. She’s reportedly dipped back into photography quietly, maybe volunteering for Hmong causes. Her kids, now in their 30s, are her anchors; she dotes on grandkids if any have come along.
Net worth? Pre-scandal, maybe $1 million from careers and assets. Now, post-legal fees and restitution, estimates hover under $500,000. It’s not about money for her anymore—it’s peace.
Kellie’s story echoes bigger truths: the immigrant hustle, surviving abuse, the cost of fame you never wanted. She’s no victim; she’s a survivor, quietly inspiring Hmong women to chase crowns and calm alike.
Lessons from Kellie: Strength in Letting Go
What can we take from Derek Chauvin Wife? First, courage looks like filing papers when the world watches. Second, family—blood or chosen—is worth every shield you raise. Third, reinvention isn’t linear; it’s messy, but possible.