Shot While Praying: 13-Year-Old Survives Church Massacre That Killed Two Children

On a crisp Wednesday morning, the Annunciation Catholic Church in south Minneapolis, a sanctuary of faith and community, was shattered by an unthinkable act of violence. It was August 27, 2025, and the church was filled with the bright voices of children and parishioners gathered for a back-to-school Mass, marking the joyous start of a new academic year. But at 8:30 a.m., the sacred space was torn apart by gunfire, leaving a community reeling and a nation grieving.

The assailant, identified as 23-year-old Robin Westman, a former student of the Annunciation Catholic School, approached the church clad in black, armed with a rifle, shotgun, and pistol—all legally purchased in recent weeks. With chilling precision, Westman barricaded the church doors with wooden planks, trapping those inside, and unleashed a barrage of bullets through the stained-glass windows. The vibrant colors of the glass, symbols of hope and reverence, became the backdrop of a nightmare as the congregation, including dozens of children, scrambled for safety.


Among the survivors is 13-year-old Endre Gunter, a boy whose courage and survival have become a beacon of hope in the wake of tragedy. Struck in the stomach by a bullet, Endre endured a harrowing ordeal, his young life hanging in the balance. His mother, Danielle Gunter, shared a heart-wrenching statement: “Our son was shot at school today, inside a church praying with his classmates.” Yet, amid the chaos, a Minneapolis police officer emerged as a hero, rushing to Endre’s side. With unwavering compassion, the officer provided first aid, held Endre close, prayed with him, and reassured him as they boarded an ambulance. Now out of surgery and in recovery, Endre’s family is focused on mending not just his physical wounds but also the emotional scars left by this traumatic day.

The attack claimed the lives of two young children, an 8-year-old and a 10-year-old, whose deaths have left an indelible void in the hearts of their families and the tight-knit Minneapolis community. Seventeen others were injured, including 14 children aged 6 to 15 and three elderly parishioners in their 80s, all of whom were worshipping together during the Mass. Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara, his voice heavy with resolve, confirmed that all the injured are expected to survive, though many face a long road to recovery. “This was a deliberate act of violence against innocent children and people worshipping,” O’Hara said, calling the attack “absolutely incomprehensible.”

Westman, who died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound in the church parking lot, left behind a trail of disturbing clues. Investigators uncovered a manifesto posted to YouTube, timed to coincide with the attack, containing writings that revealed a chilling obsession with mass shootings. Translated from Cyrillic, the notes included a hand-drawn sketch of the church’s layout, titled “Annunciation from memory,” and detailed plans to target a large group of children during the first week of school. Westman, who had legally changed their name from Robert to Robin in 2020 to reflect their identity as a transgender woman, had a personal connection to the church. Their mother, Mary Grace Westman, had worked in the church’s business office until her retirement in 2021, and Westman was believed to have attended the school years earlier.

The community’s response has been one of profound sorrow but also remarkable unity. At a candlelight vigil organized by Moms Demand Action and Protect Minnesota at Lynnhurst Park, over a thousand people gathered, their flickering candles a testament to their shared grief and determination to heal. Archbishop Bernard Hebda, speaking with quiet strength, called for hope through prayer, sharing a message from Pope Leo XIV, who expressed being “profoundly saddened” by the loss of young lives. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey, sitting on the steps of the church as police swarmed the scene, passionately defended the city’s transgender community against rising hate, declaring, “Anybody using this as an opportunity to villainize our trans community has lost their sense of common humanity.”

The tragedy at Annunciation Catholic Church is not an isolated incident. It marks the 44th school shooting in the United States in 2025, a grim statistic that has reignited calls for action on gun violence. Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, visibly shaken, spoke of the pain felt across the state: “Minnesota is heartbroken. Hug your kids close.” President Donald Trump ordered flags at the White House and public buildings lowered to half-staff until sunset, a solemn gesture of respect for the victims.

Inside the church, stories of heroism emerged. Principal Matt DeBoer praised the quick actions of staff and older students who shielded younger children, noting, “It could have been significantly worse without their heroic action.” Parents like Renee Lego, whose children survived but bore the blood of their classmates, spoke of the terror and disbelief: “This was our first all-school Mass. It was obviously planned.”

As the investigation continues, the FBI, led by Director Kash Patel, is treating the shooting as an act of domestic terrorism and a hate crime targeting Catholics, though a definitive motive remains elusive. Search warrants are being executed at residences linked to Westman, where additional firearms have been recovered. The community, meanwhile, rallies around survivors like Endre, whose family is determined to rebuild his trust and confidence. Vigils, prayers, and acts of kindness are weaving a fragile but resilient tapestry of hope in the face of unimaginable loss.

In the quiet streets of south Minneapolis, where the echoes of gunfire have faded but the wounds remain raw, the Annunciation Catholic Church stands as a symbol of both tragedy and strength. The road to healing will be long, but the spirit of this community—forged in faith, love, and solidarity—will not be broken.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.