On the morning of August 27, 2025, the tranquil halls of Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis were shattered by a barrage of gunfire. What began as the first Mass of the school year ended in tragedy, leaving two children dead and 18 others wounded—almost all of them students. The shooter, identified as 23-year-old Robin Westman, died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, according to multiple reports from AP and Fox News Digital. The aftermath has reignited a fierce national debate over the role of prayer, gun safety, and political action in the face of recurring school shootings.
Inside the church, chaos erupted as 116 rifle rounds were fired through the stained-glass windows. Children in plaid jumpers and green polo shirts dove into the pews, some jumping atop friends in desperate acts of protection. One young girl, Lydia Kaiser, was struck while shielding her "little buddy," her family shared through a fundraising page. Her father, the school's gym teacher, was among those who helped usher students to safety and reunite them with their parents. "We didn't know what was going on for those first few seconds that seemed like minutes," Matthew Stommes, a parent who had just walked his two children into the church, told AP. "We could see the leaders in the church from the front starting to tell everyone to get down. But those leaders in the church here, our priest, our deacon, our principal, they were not ducking."
Acts of bravery and heartbreak emerged from the carnage. Parents and emergency responders carried wounded children from the church as sirens wailed. Some parents, like the pediatric critical care nurse at Hennepin Healthcare, discovered their own children among the injured only upon arriving at work. Her 12-year-old daughter, Sophia Forchas, underwent emergency surgery and was in critical condition as of August 28, AP confirmed. "Her road ahead will be long, uncertain, and incredibly difficult — but she is strong, and she is not alone," the family wrote in a GoFundMe update.
Among the wounded was 13-year-old Endre, who was shot twice and rushed to surgery. As his aunt recounted in a fundraising post, Endre asked his doctor, "Can you say a prayer with me?" The request moved the medical team, and Endre is now recovering. These moments, both harrowing and hopeful, have left a deep imprint on the Minneapolis community.
Investigators later revealed that Westman had meticulously planned the attack for weeks. Hundreds of pages of journals, written in Cyrillic script, detailed shooting drills, gun purchases, and a fixation on harming children. One entry in July described the school as an "easy" target, though Westman expressed caution about parents who might be armed. The shooter, whose mother worked for the parish until 2021 and who once attended Annunciation Catholic School, also underwent a romantic breakup shortly before the attack. A suicide note left for family confessed to long-held plans and deep depression. Federal officials referred to Westman as transgender, and Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey publicly condemned the hatred directed at the transgender community in the wake of the shooting. Westman's gender identity, however, remains a subject of some ambiguity, as a 2020 court petition for a name change cited a desire to reflect a female identity.
The horror of the attack has reverberated far beyond the church walls, sparking fresh calls for gun safety legislation in Minnesota—a state often split closely along partisan lines. But as families mourned and the community gathered at makeshift memorials adorned with flowers and handwritten messages, the debate over how to respond to such tragedies reignited with renewed urgency and intensity.
Governor Gavin Newsom of California took to social media to challenge the White House's defense of prayer in the aftermath of the tragedy. "These children were literally praying as they got shot at," Newsom wrote on X, referencing the fact that the shooting occurred during Mass. His remarks came in response to White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt, who had criticized MSNBC host Jen Psaki for her pointed comments about the inadequacy of "thoughts and prayers."
Psaki, herself visibly emotional during her MSNBC broadcast, did not mince words. "Prayer is not freaking enough," she declared on X. On her show, she elaborated: "Half the politicians in our country have little more to offer than thoughts and prayers. That is all they are offering. 'Join all of us in praying for the victims' was Vice President JD Vance’s response today. That’s what he said. That’s it. 'Please join me in praying for everyone involved,' [President Donald] Trump wrote. We have seen this play out over and over again. There is a shooting. Then come the thoughts and prayers, and then comes the attempt to shift the focus. This is what always happens."
Leavitt, in turn, condemned Psaki’s remarks during a White House press briefing, calling them "incredibly insensitive and disrespectful to the tens of millions of Americans of faith across this country who believe in the power of prayer, who believe that prayer works and who believe that in a time of mourning like this—when beautiful young children were killed while praying in a church." She urged Psaki to pray for the grieving families, adding, "It is utterly disrespectful to deride the power of prayer in this country, and it is disrespectful to the millions of Americans of faith. And I would encourage Ms. Psaki to pray for these families themselves, who need it right now more than ever."
The debate didn't end there. Newsom again called out Vice President JD Vance, who had suggested that people should both pray and work to prevent future mass shootings. Newsom's reply was terse: "Do both, then." The exchange highlighted the ongoing tension between calls for spiritual solidarity and demands for legislative action.
Meanwhile, as the community of Annunciation Catholic School grieves, stories of heroism and resilience continue to emerge. Doctors and first responders have praised the students and staff for following their active shooter training, actions that likely saved lives amid the chaos. Makeshift memorials outside the church have become gathering places for mourners, with children and adults alike leaving flowers, keepsakes, and handwritten notes.
Yet, as the city of Minneapolis tries to heal, the fundamental questions remain: Will this tragedy finally prompt meaningful change? Can prayers and policy coexist in a country so deeply divided over guns and faith? For now, the families of Annunciation Catholic School must navigate a long and uncertain road to recovery, buoyed by a community determined not to let their children’s bravery and suffering be forgotten.
