A childhood obsession with an infamous name: What shocking praises did Robin Westman utter as a kid?
Years before the Minneapolis Catholic school tragedy unfolded in horror, a former classmate steps forward with a revelation that sends chills down the spine. Imagine a young Robin Westman, repeatedly invoking the name of one of history’s most notorious figures, leaving friends and teachers stunned and uneasy. Was this an early sign of the darkness to come? Two innocent children lost, a community forever scarred—could these haunting red flags from the past have foreshadowed the unthinkable nightmare? The truth is more disturbing than you can imagine.
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Minneapolis school shooter Robin Westman used to horrify classmates by walking around saying “praise Hitler,” according to a former friend who denounced him as “demonic.”
Josefina Sanchez said she is still tormented by how “erratic” and “off” Westman was when they were briefly friends in seventh grade at a school in St. Paul.
Even when that young, the soon-to-be trans killer showed signs of the hateful antisemitism that would later see him fantasizing about attacking “filthy Zionist jews.”
“He would put up his hand and say, like, ‘praise Hitler,’” Sanchez told local outlet KTSP, fighting back tears at the thought she could have raised the alarm and prevented Wednesday’s mass shooting.
“Something I knew was off, but I was a kid. How would I know, like, what to do in the seventh grade?” she asked. “When you see something erratic, it doesn’t leave your mind.”
Sanchez said that Westman was known to write in code so that nobody could understand his writing — similar to the mix of Cryllic seen in his twisted manifesto and troubled writings he shared on YouTube before the massacre.
“It’s demonic, I’m sorry, it is,” she said of her one-time friend’s behaviour.
“It was just kind of triggering,” Sanchez said, becoming overwhelmed with emotion. “I wish I could have said something sooner, but I was little, how was I supposed to know?”
Westman’s unhinged, hate-fueled writings called for the death of President Trump, glorified violence and mass shootings and expressed explicit antisemitism and racism.
In one antisemitic entry in Westman’s notebook seen in his video, the mass murderer scrawled, “If I carry out a racially motivated attack, it would be most likely against filthy Zionist jews.”
Westman also called Jewish people “entitled” and “penny-sniffing” before adding “FREE PALESTINE!”
The deranged gunman opened fire on the Annunciation Catholic Church and School Wednesday morning armed with a rifle, shotgun and handgun — killing two kids and wounding 17 others, according to police.
Westman died at the scene of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He was not previously known to law enforcement, Minneapolis Police said.
He had attended the school he attacked for a year as a child, and his mother worked there as a secretary for five years before she retired in 2021.
In an interview with local media, Josefina Sanchez, a former classmate of Westman at Annunciation Catholic School, revealed a troubling memory from their childhood. Between the ages of 10 and 12, Westman would occasionally utter phrases expressing admiration for a historical figure infamous for extreme ideologies and atrocities, shocking peers even at a young age. Sanchez described these moments as “demonic” and “unsettling,” noting that Westman’s behavior stood out in the otherwise tight-knit, faith-based school community. While specific phrases are withheld here to avoid amplifying harmful rhetoric, this early behavior is now viewed as a potential red flag that hinted at Westman’s later fixation with violence and extremism.
Sanchez, now 24, recalled that Westman was a loner who struggled to connect with peers, often retreating into cryptic habits like writing in code, possibly Cyrillic, to conceal their thoughts. These childhood utterances, though dismissed at the time as childish provocation, have taken on new significance in light of the August 2025 massacre. Investigators are examining whether these early signs pointed to a deeper ideological fixation or were simply a reflection of a troubled mind seeking attention. The revelation has sparked debate about how early behaviors can be identified and addressed to prevent such tragedies.
A Life of Chaos and Isolation
Robin Westman’s path to this tragedy was marked by personal turmoil. Born Robert Westman, they grew up in suburban Minneapolis, attending Annunciation Catholic School, where their mother, Mary Grace Westman, worked as an administrative assistant until her retirement in 2021. The family faced significant disruption in 2012 when Mary Grace and James Westman divorced, leaving 11-year-old Robin to navigate a fractured home. Court records indicate a “criminal offense” at the family home in 2019 and a “mental health” incident involving a juvenile in 2021, though it’s unclear if these directly involved Robin.
In 2019, at age 17, Westman legally changed their name to Robin, with Mary Grace supporting the petition to reflect their identification as female. However, Westman’s teenage years were marked by increasing isolation. Classmates, including Sanchez, noted their fascination with the “true crime community” and mass shooters, a troubling interest that grew over time. By 2025, Westman’s life appeared increasingly unstable. They briefly worked at a cannabis dispensary in Eagan, Minnesota, but left the job in mid-August 2025, citing personal issues. A recent breakup with a romantic partner, as revealed by James Westman, further deepened their distress. Neighbors at Lynwood Commons Apartments described Westman as unremarkable, blending into the community with typical young adult behaviors like ordering takeout, but behind this facade, they were planning a massacre.
Meticulous Planning
The Minneapolis shooting was the result of months of calculated preparation. Westman’s journals, partially written in Cyrillic to mask their content, detailed reconnaissance visits to Annunciation Catholic Church and a nearby shooting range. Two YouTube videos, posted under the name “Robin W” and removed shortly after the attack, showcased a notebook with a hand-drawn map of the church’s layout and plans for the massacre. Entries dated as recently as August 16, 2025, expressed despair and inevitability, with Westman writing, “I am not well. I am not right.” The shooter legally purchased a semiautomatic rifle, pump-action shotgun, and pistol, using them to fire 116 rifle rounds, three shotgun shells, and one malfunctioned handgun round during the attack.
Westman chose the first all-school Mass of the year, knowing it would draw a large crowd of vulnerable children. The weapons bore inscriptions referencing past mass shooters and hateful sentiments, though specific messages are withheld here to avoid amplifying harmful rhetoric. A four-page suicide note addressed to family and friends expressed regret for the pain the attack would cause but also a chilling resolve to proceed. The manifesto’s references to extremist ideologies, possibly echoing Westman’s childhood utterances, suggest a long-standing fascination with violence, though no clear motive has been established.
The Day of the Attack
On August 27, 2025, at 8:15 a.m., Annunciation Catholic Church was filled with students and parishioners celebrating the start of the school year. Westman, dressed in black tactical gear, approached the church, barricaded the side doors, and began firing through the stained-glass windows. The attack lasted mere minutes but left devastation in its wake. Fletcher Merkel and Harper Moyski, both sitting in the pews, were killed. Fourteen children aged 6 to 15 and three elderly parishioners were injured, with most expected to recover. The church’s locked-door policy likely prevented Westman from entering, saving countless lives. Westman died by suicide in the parking lot, leaving behind a minivan registered to their father.
The community’s response was immediate and heroic. Teachers and older students shielded younger ones under pews, while first responders triaged victims, including a girl with a head wound who survived. Vigils sprang up across Minneapolis, with flowers and crosses forming a makeshift memorial outside the church. Fletcher’s father, Jesse Merkel, described his son as a vibrant child who loved fishing and family, while Harper’s parents, Michael Moyski and Jackie Flavin, called their daughter a “bright, joyful” 10-year-old whose light endures.
Investigating the Motive
The FBI is investigating the shooting as an act of domestic terrorism and an anti-Catholic hate crime, with Acting U.S. Attorney Joseph Thompson describing Westman’s heart as “full of hate.” Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara noted the shooter’s obsession with past mass shooters, including figures like Adam Lanza, which may connect to their childhood behavior. The classmate’s revelation about Westman’s early utterances suggests a long-standing fascination with extremist ideologies, but extremism analysts caution against oversimplifying the motive. Westman’s writings included a cryptic statement: “The message is there is no message,” pointing to a nihilistic worldview rather than a coherent ideology.
The childhood behavior reported by Sanchez raises questions about early intervention. While Westman’s utterances were dismissed as juvenile at the time, they now highlight the importance of recognizing warning signs in youth. The absence of a prior criminal record or documented mental health diagnoses allowed Westman to legally purchase firearms, raising concerns about the effectiveness of Minnesota’s “red flag” laws.
Community Response and Policy Implications
The Annunciation shooting has reignited debates about gun violence and mental health support in America. Minnesota’s 2023 “red flag” laws and universal background checks failed to flag Westman, who had no prior convictions. Advocates like Mayor Jacob Frey and Congresswoman Ilhan Omar have called for bans on assault weapons, citing the 116 rifle rounds fired in the attack. The tragedy, following other violent incidents in Minneapolis in 2025, underscores the need for systemic reform to address gun access and early intervention for at-risk youth.
The Annunciation community remains resilient but deeply scarred. Principal Matthew DeBoer praised the bravery of staff and students, while the church’s century-long legacy endures. Vigils and memorials continue to honor Fletcher and Harper, whose families have called for change to ensure their deaths are not in vain. As investigations proceed, the focus remains on healing and prevention.