It was supposed to be a day of celebration and new beginnings at Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis. Instead, the first week of classes on August 27, 2025, was shattered by a tragedy that left two children dead, more than a dozen injured, and a community grappling with grief, anger, and unanswered questions.
The shooter, identified by authorities as 23-year-old Robin Westman, had once walked the same halls as the children targeted in the attack. According to Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara, Westman fired 116 rifle rounds through the church’s stained-glass windows while nearly 200 children attended Mass. The violence was sudden, terrifying, and, in the words of O’Hara, “intended to terrorize those innocent children.”
Fletcher Merkel, 8, and Harper Moyski, 10, were killed by gunshot wounds, the Hennepin County Medical Examiner confirmed. Their families, now facing unimaginable loss, spoke through tears. Fletcher’s father, Jesse Merkel, said, “We will never be allowed to hold him, talk to him, play with him and watch him grow into the wonderful young man he was on the path to becoming.” Michael Moyski and Jackie Flavin, Harper’s parents, described their daughter as “a bright and joyful child,” adding, “As a family, we are shattered, and words cannot capture the depth of our pain.”
In total, fifteen children between the ages of 6 and 15 were injured, with one remaining in critical condition the day after the attack. Three parishioners in their 80s were also wounded. The rapid response of local police, who arrived within four minutes of the first 911 call, prevented further loss. Officers rendered first aid and rescued children who had hidden in fear, according to the police chief. Annunciation’s principal, Matt DeBoer, recounted how “children were ducked down. Adults were protecting children. Older children were protecting younger children.”
Westman, who was armed with a rifle, shotgun, and pistol, died by suicide at the scene. The shooter’s mother, Mary Westman, had worked for the parish before retiring in 2021. Court records show that in early 2020, Westman legally changed their name from Robert to Robin, identifying as female. Family ties to Annunciation ran deep—Westman had attended the school and was a parishioner there. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey, during a press conference, urged the public not to direct hatred toward the transgender community in the wake of the attack, stating, “anybody who is using this as an opportunity to villainize our trans community or any other community out there has lost their sense of common humanity.”
Investigators found no criminal record or prior arrests that would have prevented Westman from legally purchasing firearms. However, the evidence recovered tells a chilling story. Authorities seized hundreds of pieces of evidence from the church and three residences, including journals, videos, and writings—some in Cyrillic script—filled with violent rhetoric, suicidal statements, and expressions of hate toward nearly every group imaginable. “No evidence will ever be able to make sense of such an unthinkable tragedy,” O’Hara said.
Among the items discovered were videos posted online by Westman, featuring weapons and ammunition, with the names of mass shooters written on them in white marker. One video showed a suicide note addressed to family and friends, apologizing for the pain caused and referencing long-held plans for violence. In another, Westman paged through a journal that included threats against President Donald Trump, racist and antisemitic statements, and references to past mass shootings like Columbine. The videos also displayed obscure messages associated with notorious attacks, reflecting what experts call a “deep fascination with mass shooters.”
Jacob Ware, a research fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations, told Minnesota Public Radio News that Westman’s case fits a disturbing pattern: “We have an established cultural script in the United States for this kind of violence, where loners or misfits find comfort, find community, online among people who egg them on. They’re able to find content that glorifies violence, that celebrates murder, and they commit suicide using firearms on behalf of these or having been inspired by these kind of spaces.”
While the FBI is investigating the shooting as an act of domestic terrorism and a hate crime targeting Catholics, the motives remain murky. Acting U.S. Attorney Joe Thompson noted that Westman “expressed hate towards almost every group imaginable. In short, the shooter appeared to hate all of us.” The Anti-Defamation League’s Center on Extremism said Westman exhibited a “deep fascination with mass shooters” but no clear ideological motivation. The FBI recently introduced a new category in its counter-terrorism investigations: “nihilistic violent extremism.” While it’s unclear if Westman’s actions fall under this label, Ware explained that such killers are often driven more by “hatred of society, hatred of life, what you might call misanthropy and nihilism, more than any single ideological tradition.”
The deeply personal grievances, mental health struggles, and suicidal ideation that marked Westman’s writings and videos paint a picture of an individual in profound distress. One of the shooter’s writings read, “I know this is wrong, but I can’t seem to stop myself.” Family members and neighbors described Westman as isolated; Oscar Gonzalez, who lived nearby, remarked that Westman “seemed a bit like a recluse.”
Westman’s personal history only adds to the complexity. The shooter graduated from Southwest High School in Minneapolis in 2021, though did not attend the ceremony. Most recently, Westman had worked at the RISE Dispensary in Minnesota, but was not employed there at the time of the shooting. Attempts to contact family members have been unsuccessful, though former Kentucky state lawmaker Bob Heleringer, Westman’s uncle, told the Associated Press he wished Westman had “shot me instead of innocent schoolchildren.”
The community response has been swift and somber. Minnesota Governor Tim Walz deployed state law enforcement officers to schools and churches in Minneapolis, declaring, “No child should go to school worried about losing a classmate or gunshots erupting during prayer.” The investigation, led by the Minneapolis Police Department in collaboration with the FBI and ATF, has included the execution of four search warrants at residences in the Twin Cities linked to Westman.
For the families, students, and staff of Annunciation Catholic School, the trauma lingers. Tess Rada, whose 8-year-old daughter survived the attack, said her child has struggled to talk about what happened. “It’s kind of impossible,” Rada said, “to wrap your head around how to tell an 8-year-old that her friend has been killed.”
As Minneapolis mourns and searches for answers, the legacy of this tragedy is likely to be felt for years to come. The hope, as voiced by Harper Moyski’s parents, is that her memory will spur leaders “to take meaningful steps to address gun violence and the mental health crisis in this country.”
