The nation continues to grapple with the shocking assassination of Turning Point USA founder Charlie Kirk, gunned down in front of students at Utah Valley University. While prosecutors laid out a strong case against the accused killer, Tyler Robinson, some in the media chose to dwell on what they called “touching” exchanges between Robinson and his transgender roommate. It was a striking example of how narratives can be shaped—not around the brutal act of political violence, but around the private life of the accused.
Utah County District Attorney Jeff Gray announced Tuesday that Robinson faces seven counts, including aggravated murder, felony discharge of a firearm, obstruction of justice, and witness tampering. He also filed a notice of intent to seek the death penalty, citing the severity of the crime and the aggravating factors—chief among them that the shooting endangered children in attendance.
Despite this grave context, ABC News correspondent Matt Gutman told viewers that what “stood out” to him were text messages between Robinson and his roommate about the alleged murder weapon. “I don’t know if we have seen an alleged murder with such specific text messages about the alleged murder weapon — where it was hidden, how it was placed, what was on it, but also, it was very touching, in a way that I think many of us didn’t expect,” Gutman said. He described the communications as “a very intimate portrait into” their relationship.
Gutman noted that Robinson repeatedly referred to his roommate as “my love” and promised to “protect” him. “So, it was this duality of someone who, the attorney said, not only jeopardized the life of Charlie Kirk and the crowd, but was doing it in front of children — which is one of the aggravating circumstances of this case, and on the other hand, he was speaking so lovingly about his partner,” Gutman said.
The texts released so far paint a chilling picture. In one exchange, Robinson told his roommate:
ROBINSON: “Drop what you’re doing, look under my keyboard.”
ROOMMATE: “You are joking right?”
ROBINSON: “I am still okay, my love. Shouldn’t be long until I can come home, but I gotta grab my rifle still. To be honest, I had hoped to keep this secret till I died of old age. I am sorry to involve you.”
ROOMMATE: “You weren’t the one who did it, right?”
ROBINSON: “I am, I am, I’m sorry.”
When pressed about why he did it, Robinson reportedly said he “had enough of his hatred,” insisting that “Some hate can’t be negotiated out.” He later added in the note: “If I am able to grab my rifle unseen, I will have left no evidence. Going to attempt to retrieve it again. Hopefully they have moved on. I haven’t seen anything about them finding it.”
Gutman reflected on this evidence by calling it “heartbreaking on so many levels” and once again returned to the “duality of a very human person.” Yet, as he acknowledged, the crime was brutal and public. “Obviously, Charlie Kirk was murdered brutally in front of a crowd of thousands of people who watched him being shot through the neck and essentially bleed out in front of them,” he said. He further highlighted the district attorney’s point that “seven charges, were aggravated because children were present. Children witnessed this, children were put in harm’s way.”
Still, Gutman ended by repeating that “there is this duality of a very, a portrait of a very human person, a very human experience from this entire family.”
But that framing, while sympathetic toward the accused, risks overshadowing the core reality: a conservative leader was assassinated in broad daylight, before students and families, at an event meant to foster civic dialogue. The case serves as a grim reminder of how political hatred, when unchecked, can turn violent—and how easily media narratives can shift attention away from the crime itself and toward painting the perpetrator in a softer light.
Charlie Kirk, just 31 years old, leaves behind his wife and two young children. His death is a loss not only for his family, but for the movement he built and the thousands of young Americans he sought to inspire. For conservatives, the stakes are clear. When political violence becomes acceptable in the culture, and when major outlets lean more on humanizing killers than honoring the slain, we face more than a tragedy—we face a dangerous precedent.
