It happened on a Wednesday morning in August. August 27, 2025, to be exact. It was the first week of classes at Annunciation Catholic School in South Minneapolis, a place that had stood as a neighborhood pillar since 1923. The kids were inside the church for a school-wide Mass. It was supposed to be a quiet, reflective start to the day. Then the glass started shattering.
A 23-year-old named Robin Westman stood outside. Westman didn't go in. Instead, they fired 116 rounds from a rifle through the stained-glass windows. Two children—8-year-old Fletcher Merkel and 10-year-old Harper Moyski—were killed. Dozens more were injured.
Honestly, the details that came out afterward were just... bizarre. And chilling. Westman was a former student there. They graduated eighth grade in 2017. Their mother had even worked for the parish. It wasn't some random target; it was a place Westman knew intimately.
The Robin Westman Investigation and Those YouTube Videos
Police didn't have to look far for a digital trail. Almost as soon as the shooting stopped and Westman took their own life in the parking lot, a series of timed-release videos went live on YouTube.
It was a manifesto of sorts.
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The camera never showed a face. It just panned over a cache of weapons—a rifle, a shotgun, and a pistol. The magazines were covered in scribbled messages. Some said "Kill Donald Trump." Others had antisemitic slurs like "6 million wasn't enough" or "Where is your God?"
Then there were the notebooks. Hundreds of pages written in Cyrillic script, but here’s the kicker: it wasn't Russian. It was English words spelled out using Russian letters. It’s like Westman wanted to be found, but also wanted to feel like they were part of some secret, dark world.
Investigators found a drawing of the church’s interior. In the video, the person behind the camera stabs the drawing with a knife. One entry simply said, "I am feeling good about Annunciation."
It’s hard to wrap your head around that kind of planning. Westman had apparently been plotting this for five years. Five years of stewing in a "mishmash" of ideologies that didn't really point to one single cause. It was just... hate. Pure, unadulterated hate directed at everyone and everything.
A History of Quiet Resentment
If you talk to the people who knew Westman back in the day, they don't describe a monster. They describe a "skulker."
A former classmate, Lily Kletter, remembered Westman (then known as Bob) as someone who sat in the back of the class. They had a "crazy distaste" for the school. One time, Westman even hid in the bathroom for a long time just to avoid going to Mass.
- Birth name: Robert Paul Westman.
- Identity: Legally changed name to Robin M. Westman in 2020, identifying as a transgender woman.
- Mental Health: Previous teachers reported seeing signs of self-harm.
- Employment: Worked briefly at a cannabis dispensary but was fired for attendance issues just weeks before the shooting.
There was a breakup, too. According to search warrants, Westman had recently gone through a split and was staying with a friend in St. Louis Park. Maybe that was the "trigger," or maybe it was just the final straw in a life that was already unraveling.
Why Didn't the Red Flag Laws Work?
This is the question everyone in Minnesota is asking. The state has an Extreme Risk Protection Order (ERPO) law. It's meant to keep guns away from people who are a danger to themselves or others.
But Westman hadn't "tripped" any alarms.
The guns—a 5.56 AR-15-style rifle, a Mossberg shotgun, and a Taurus pistol—were all bought legally. Westman had no adult criminal record. No history of being involuntarily committed. No one in the family had filed for a protection order.
Basically, if no one speaks up, the law is just words on paper. Westman had purchased the weapons recently, and even the shop owner in St. Louis Park said nothing seemed "out of the ordinary."
It’s a terrifying thought. Someone can be writing a manifesto in a makeshift code and buying an arsenal, and as long as they stay "quiet," the system just lets them through.
The Immediate Aftermath and Community Response
The scene at the church was chaotic. Parents who had just dropped their kids off heard the shots and ran back. Neighbors helped bloodied children out of the building.
One parent mentioned that the school's "buddy system"—where older kids are paired with younger ones—actually led to more injuries for the older students. They stayed upright longer, trying to push their younger "buddies" under the pews for safety. It’s a level of bravery you shouldn't expect from a ten-year-old.
Fletcher's father later spoke out, asking people to remember his son for his love of fishing and cooking, not just as a victim. It's a small plea in a sea of political noise, but it's the one that sticks with you.
The FBI is officially treating this as domestic terrorism and a hate crime against Catholics. They're still parsing through "hundreds of pieces of evidence," but the reality is that the motive might never be "one thing." It was a cocktail of depression, radicalization in online "virtual communities," and a deep-seated grievance against a place from Westman's childhood.
What Needs to Happen Now
You can't just move on from something like the Minneapolis Catholic school shooting. Not when the shooter's own mother was part of the parish. Not when the signs of self-harm were reported years ago and apparently went nowhere.
If you’re looking for a way to actually do something, start by looking at your own community's mental health resources.
- Check the "Red Flag" laws in your state. Know how they work and who can file them. In Minnesota, it's family or law enforcement.
- Support school-based mental health initiatives. Westman’s former teacher saw the signs. If there had been a more robust follow-up system in place then, maybe things look different today.
- Monitor online behaviors. Experts point to "fixation" and "identification" with previous shooters as the biggest warning signs. If you see someone glorifying past tragedies, that’s not "edgy" behavior—it’s a red flag.
The tragedy at Annunciation wasn't just a failure of security; it was a failure of intervention. We have to be better at spotting the "skulkers" before they become the shooters.
Check your local school district’s threat assessment protocols to see if they include "leakage" monitoring—identifying when students or alumni are sharing violent ideation online. If those protocols are weak, bring it up at the next board meeting.