In the quiet farmlands of southeastern Minnesota, where horse-drawn buggies share rural roads with speeding SUVs, a tragic collision two years ago has finally reached a courtroom reckoning. Samantha Jo Petersen, 37, was sentenced on October 16, 2025, to four years in state prison for her role in a methamphetamine-fueled crash that claimed the lives of two young Amish girls and injured two others. But the story’s chilling twist? Petersen convinced her identical twin sister, Sarah Beth Petersen, to impersonate her at the scene and shoulder the blame, a desperate bid to evade consequences that unraveled through incriminating texts, frantic Google searches, and a coworker’s tip. As Fillmore County District Court Judge Jeremy Clinefelter imposed the sentence—four years for criminal vehicular homicide under the influence, to run concurrently with two years for criminal vehicular operation—Petersen broke down in court, lamenting, “I made terrible decisions.” The case, which gripped local headlines and sparked national outrage over rural road safety and familial betrayal, serves as a stark reminder of addiction’s destructive reach.

The nightmare unfolded on September 25, 2023, just after 6 p.m., on a stretch of Highway 63 near Spring Valley, a small town of about 2,500 residents roughly 110 miles south of Minneapolis. Petersen, a Hy-Vee grocery store employee in nearby Rochester, had just clocked out from her shift. High on methamphetamine—a stimulant she later admitted to using sporadically amid personal struggles—she climbed into her white Ford Edge SUV and headed south. The road, a two-lane highway flanked by cornfields and Amish settlements, is notorious for buggy-SUV encounters, with locals long advocating for better signage and awareness.

Ahead of her rolled a horse-drawn buggy carrying four members of the Miller family from the local Amish community: parents Eli and Barbara Miller, and their daughters, 7-year-old Wilma and 11-year-old Irma. The family was returning from a routine evening errand when Petersen’s SUV rear-ended the buggy at highway speed, estimated at 55-65 mph. The impact was catastrophic. The horse bolted in panic, dragging the wreckage before collapsing, while the buggy splintered into debris. Wilma and Irma were ejected and pronounced dead at the scene from massive blunt-force trauma, according to the Fillmore County Sheriff’s Office report. Eli suffered severe spinal injuries requiring multiple surgeries, and Barbara endured broken ribs and a concussion, both airlifted to Mayo Clinic in Rochester. The horse was euthanized due to irreparable damage.

What followed was a frantic cover-up that might have worked in a different era—but not in 2023, with cellphones tracking every move. Petersen, dazed and panicking, pulled over amid the chaos. Instead of calling 911 or aiding the victims, she grabbed her phone and dialed her twin, Sarah, who lived nearby in Wykoff. “I hit that Amish buggy and killed two ppl… Made Sarah come there and take the fall for it so I wouldn’t go to prison,” she later texted a friend, a message uncovered during the investigation. Sarah, 37, who had recently served time for unrelated drug charges and relied on Samantha for childcare, arrived within minutes. The identical twins—both blonde, blue-eyed, and of similar build—switched places, with Sarah assuming the driver’s role as emergency responders swarmed the scene.

First responders from the Spring Valley Fire Department and Fillmore County Sheriff’s Office arrived within 10 minutes, greeted by a bloodied and tearful Sarah claiming she had “dozed off” at the wheel. She was transported to Saint Mary’s Hospital in Rochester for evaluation, where deputies noted her inconsistent story: She couldn’t recall details of the crash or her route, and her eyes were dilated, raising suspicions of impairment. Meanwhile, Samantha lingered at the periphery, posing as a concerned passerby before slipping away. The ruse held for about 24 hours, but cracks appeared quickly. A Hy-Vee HR manager, tipped off by an employee who overheard Samantha’s post-crash confession call—”I just killed two Amish kids… I’m not sober”—alerted authorities. Cellphone location data placed Samantha’s phone at the crash site at the exact time, corroborated by pings from nearby towers. Toxicology reports later confirmed methamphetamine in her system, with levels indicating recent use.

The smoking gun came from Samantha’s iPhone, seized under a search warrant. Her Google history, timestamped hours before the crash, included panicked queries: “What happens if you get in an accident with an Amish buggy and kill two people?” and “If you hit a buggy and kill two people are you going to prison?” Post-crash, she searched “how to lock an iPhone cops have,” attempting to wipe evidence. The incriminating text to her friend, sent at 7:14 p.m., detailed the switcheroo. Sarah, under interrogation, cracked first, admitting she had agreed to the deception out of “loyalty” and a sense of debt—Samantha had cared for her children during her prior incarceration. “She felt she owed me,” Sarah told investigators, per court documents.

Charges mounted swiftly. Samantha faced 21 counts, including two felony counts of criminal vehicular homicide under the influence (each carrying up to 10 years), criminal vehicular operation, and obstruction of justice for the impersonation scheme. Sarah was charged with aiding an offender and making false statements to police. In March 2025, Sarah pleaded guilty and received a lenient sentence: three months in jail, four years probation, and 100 hours of community service, reflecting her cooperation and lack of direct involvement in the crash. Samantha, after months of pretrial wrangling, pleaded guilty in July 2025 to the two homicide counts, dropping lesser charges in a plea deal.

Sentencing day in Preston’s Fillmore County Courthouse was a somber affair, broadcast by Court TV. Judge Clinefelter, reviewing a 20-page memo from the prosecution, emphasized the “whole ‘nother level of responsibility” on that buggy-frequented road. Victim impact statements from Eli Miller, the grieving father, pierced the room: “I thought I did enough to keep my children safe… They were just going for ice cream.” Barbara, still recovering, spoke of the “void” left by Wilma and Irma, vibrant girls who loved school and family sing-alongs. The Millers, adhering to Amish tenets of forgiveness, requested leniency but stressed accountability.

Samantha, shackled and tearful in a county-issued jumpsuit, addressed the court in a filmed statement: “I wish with everything in me that I could go back and change what happened. I had not considered other people and their decision-making.” She apologized to the Millers, calling the crash “a terrible, terrible decision” born of addiction. Her defense attorney, Carson J. Heefner, argued for probation, citing her remorse, history of substance abuse treatment, and role as a mother to two young children. But Fillmore County Attorney Brett DeGeorge pushed for the maximum, highlighting the premeditated deception: “This wasn’t panic—it was a calculated lie to evade justice.”

Clinefelter split the difference, handing down the four-year term, plus $39,500 in restitution for medical and funeral costs, and a lifetime revocation of Petersen’s driving privileges. “Addiction is no excuse for endangering lives,” he ruled, ordering her to undergo mandatory drug treatment upon release. Heefner called it “fair in the grand scheme,” while DeGeorge deemed it a “just outcome” for the community.

The case has rippled beyond the courtroom, igniting debates on rural safety. Amish leaders in Spring Valley, a community of about 200 families, renewed calls for buggy reflectors and driver education campaigns, citing a spate of similar incidents—five buggy crashes in Minnesota in 2023 alone, per state DOT data. Advocacy groups like the Minnesota Coalition for Battered Women highlighted the twins’ backstory: Both had battled addiction, with Sarah’s prior conviction stemming from a 2020 meth possession charge. Samantha’s crash, they argue, underscores the need for expanded rural rehab access.

Social media amplified the tragedy’s human toll. On X, #AmishCrash trended locally, with users sharing Miller family photos and decrying the “heartless switcheroo.” One viral post read: “Twins betraying each other for a lie? Addiction destroys families—pray for the Millers.” The Amish response, true to their faith, emphasized healing: A community fund has raised $50,000 for the Millers, and Eli has returned to farming, vowing to “forgive as we’re forgiven.”

As Samantha reports to the Minnesota Correctional Facility in Shakopee next month, her story serves as a cautionary coda to a rural idyll shattered. In Spring Valley, buggies now roll with extra caution, and two little girls’ laughter echoes only in memory. The sentence closes one chapter, but the road to redemption—for Petersen, her sister, and a grieving community—remains long and winding.