DMLNewsApp founder and podcast host Dennis Michael Lynch posted the following op-ed on Facebook Friday evening, as he weighed in on yet another tragic side of the assassination of beloved conservative leader Charlie Kirk.
Below is the op-ed in its entirety. Please read, then share your thoughts in the comments section of this report.
I WONDER WHAT YOU THINK. Instead of writing my op-ed newsletter via email, I have posted here tonight. I ask you to read it through to the end before passing judgement or issuing an opinion.
KIRK & ROBINSON: TRAGIC IN MORE THAN ONE WAY
written by DML
As someone who’s put myself in harm’s way by delivering countless speeches to large audiences packed with strangers and protesters—as a guy who’s been branded a hater, a racist, and a bigot just for believing in the rule of law, conservative values, and secure borders—it’s been two rough days to weather, and I still feel an incredible wave of pain and sorrow from head to toe every time I post on Facebook or X about Charlie Kirk.
I never met Charlie in person. We had one brief exchange on Twitter years ago: He followed me and sent a quick direct message. I responded by offering any help he might need to grow Turning Point. I knew even then he’d be something special. Now that he’s gone, I pore over his photos, watch his clips, and realize I’m old enough to be his father—yet it feels like I’ve lost a dear friend.
I think about his wife and his two little kids. Right now, everything is raw, moving so fast, and it all feels numb for them. But one day, when the spotlight of this tragedy fades, the Kirk children may want to see that horrifying video from 9/10. I can only pray they’re strong enough to endure what we all witnessed on Wednesday. The deck is stacked against them, making it nearly impossible to navigate life without raging at the world for stealing their daddy. The thought haunts me—because no child should grow up without their father.
And with that in mind, no father should be without his child. So I can’t lie: I feel for Mr. Robinson, the father of the shooter. Now, before you jump down my throat, let me explain why.
For two days straight, I’ve been posting photos and video clips exposing the radical leftists who tap-dance with joy over Charlie’s death. The good news? We’re getting many of these people fired from jobs they never should have held—especially those in education. But earlier today, while sifting through what to share next, a photo of Mr. Robinson with his son crossed my desk. I looked at it and decided not to post it until now. I needed time to find the right words.
Mr. Robinson is a business owner and reportedly a staunch conservative. In the photo, he’s sitting with his son, and they look happy. I have countless photos just like that with my own sons. As a father, you can’t help but love your boy unconditionally. You teach him to walk, to ride a bike, to throw a ball. You guide him in self-defense, how to drive a car, how to be polite to a girl. Along the way, you pour everything into molding him into a good man—showing him the fine line between right and wrong, and what it means to stand tall for what he believes. You hope your lessons take root, but sometimes the effort falls short.
I know so many fathers who end up heartbroken by who their sons become, forever wondering what went wrong. Like anything in life, no matter how hard you try, things don’t always go the right way. Sometimes, a kid just can’t connect with what seems like common sense, common decency—and the values you instilled vanish like smoke in the wind. I imagine that’s the case with Tyler Robinson. He’s a vile human being, a cold-hearted killer who doesn’t deserve another breath.
Reportedly, he’s the only liberal in his family—and a radical one at that. So what happened to him? We may never get those answers even though we’ll learn more about him each day, I’m sure.
Mr. Robinson likely devoted his life to raising his son. I can only imagine the torment raging through his head right now.
Make no mistake: My anger over what happened is still burning at a ten. The fact is, Mr. Robinson’s son stole the life of Charlie Kirk—arguably a future president Mr. Robinson himself would have voted for.
And let’s be clear: This event is one of the worst I’ve ever witnessed. Just as 9/11 ignited me to make films on illegal immigration, Charlie’s assassination has rung a deafening bell inside me. I haven’t felt this alive to fight back, this engaged, in years. It’s lit a much-needed fire under DML, and it’s got me eager to wake up each morning and do my part to make America great again.
But with that said—unless it comes out that Mr. Robinson knew his son’s plans and did nothing to stop it (which I doubt)—I feel bad for him as a fellow father.
Think about it: Mr. Robinson turned his son over to the FBI, knowing full well that Tyler faces the death penalty, knowing an entire nation will despise the Robinson name forever. If you can step back from the raw agony of watching Charlie fall, maybe you can see my point. Maybe you can feel Mr. Robinson’s pain. If Charlie was alive, and if it was someone else in the conservative movement who had been shot and killed instead of him, as a Christian, I think Charlie would be saying the same thing I am now.
I believe Mr. Robinson’s decision was the only logical choice he had. But emotionally? It must have been gut-wrenching—like pulling the plug on a loved one who’s barely clinging to life on tubes. Maybe even harder, because Mr. Robinson likely feels he failed his son, failed as a father, failed his fellow Americans, and failed Charlie.
Sometimes life smacks us in the head with a brick. In Mr. Robinson’s case, it was a boulder. The Kirks—and Charlie—were crushed by a mountain. Thus, if I was standing in front of the Kirk family at this moment I would cry with them, hug them and not let go. If Tyler was in front of me, I would need restraints, and would be arrested. But the much harder question is this: If I were in front of Mr. Robinson right now, would I yell at him? Would I ask, “What the f-ck?” Would I hit him? Would I shake his hand? Or would I hug him? Truth be told, I don’t know how I would react despite the words I’ve written here. What would you do? I know what God would want us to do.
To the contrary, I wonder what Mr. Robinson would say to the world today if given the chance (no doubt his lawyers are urging silence). I wonder what he is saying to Charlie tonight, through prayer. I’d like to think he’s weeping and saying how terribly sorry he is, even though he didn’t pull the trigger.
I want to believe Mr. Robinson would do anything he could to change what happened in Utah. Remember, in the same way you feel sick when your child is ill, any good father shoulders the weight of his son’s actions.
I also wonder if Mr. Robinson wavered at some point—if he or his wife ever considered hiding Tyler instead of turning him in. We’ll probably never know. What we do know is he did the right thing.
Make no mistake: My heart doesn’t bleed for Mr. Robinson; it bleeds for Charlie and his family. And if justice is served, Tyler will face the electric chair soon enough. Mr. Robinson’s life, in ways we’ll never fully grasp, will be shattered forever—even as he keeps breathing he will always feel out of breath.
I welcome your comments—just keep them polite, whether you agree or disagree. I appreciate your time.
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