THE AMERICA ONE NEWS
Sep 18, 2025  |  
0
 | Remer,MN
Sponsor:  QWIKET 
Sponsor:  QWIKET 
Sponsor:  QWIKET: Elevate your fantasy game! Interactive Sports Knowledge.
Sponsor:  QWIKET: Elevate your fantasy game! Interactive Sports Knowledge and Reasoning Support for Fantasy Sports and Betting Enthusiasts.
back  
topic
Andrea Widburg


NextImg:Tyler Robinson’s parents and ‘The Invasion of the Body Snatchers’

It’s a regular science fiction trope. Whether it’s The Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ alien pod people replicating humanity, Star Trek: The Next Generation’s parasites taking over people’s brains, Supernatural’s demons possessing human form, or just the standard vampire movie, the situation is familiar: The person you knew and loved looks the same, or at least looks familiar, but his essence is gone. He is simply a meat suit wrapped about an alien being.

I kept thinking of that trope as I considered the amazingly difficult decision that Tyler Robinson’s parents made: They turned him over to law enforcement, even though they knew that the punishment for first-degree murder in Utah can include the death penalty. Those who have praised the parents for the morality driving their decision are right. Their son allegedly committed an utterly heinous act, and they could not be complicit in it.

Image created using AI.

What I’ve wondered, though, is whether the person they turned over to law enforcement, aside from a superficial familiarity, bore any relationship to the child they bore and the man they raised. My bias in this regard comes from my experience at the end of my mother’s life.

For most of my life, my mother was this energetic dynamo. She had a lot of demons (a childhood of divorce, dislocation, a Japanese concentration camp, and war), but the woman who raised me was also fun, social, upbeat, and incredibly charming, with innumerable wonderful people who badly wanted to be her friend. As I grew from child to woman, she was my best friend.

In her last decade, though, everything that made my mom a delight vanished. All that was left was a querulous, paranoid, antisocial, prescription-drug-addicted, deeply depressed person. For the last ten years of her life, although she lived (as she had wished) in a managed care facility, I was the frontline of her care, taking her shopping and to appointments, handling her finances, and talking to her daily—and, of course, visiting her regularly and (when she was able) taking her to my home.

But here’s the thing: I was taking care (loving care, I hope) of a stranger out of respect and love for the mother who had raised me, a woman who, in my mind, had died a long time before. Mom’s spirit and soul were gone, but the remnant continued to be my responsibility.

From all indications, up until his last year of high school, Charlie Kirk’s alleged killer was a bright, happy young man. And then something changed. Was he mentally ill, which drew him to extreme leftism? Or did the leftism inculcated in him in high school, his one year at college, and the social and sexual circles in which he eventually moved, turn him into someone capable of tremendous evil?

If it’s the latter, the alleged killer wouldn’t be the first person to be “fundamentally transformed” thanks to leftism, a change made manifest when you look at how young women redesign their exteriors to match their changed interiors.

These people are completely alienated from their families in the most aggressive ways possible:

The biggest change, though, is when men and women insist that they are no longer their biological sex, but have become, instead, one of the left’s dozens of other so-called “gender identities.”

Many of the people who become part of the leftist Borg abandon all human decency in the process:

So it is that you raise a dear little boy, expecting him to become a man, get a job, meet a nice young woman, get married, and start a family, or a little girl, expecting her to do the same (except meeting a nice young man)—and instead, you get a raging, perpetually angry person, who hates his or her own body, who hates you, who hates America, and who especially hates morality. This is not your child. This is a simulacrum of your child. Your child “died” a long time ago.

There are, of course, people who raise their children this way, but those people aren’t the alleged killer’s parents:

So, again, I wonder whether the alleged killer’s parents were turning in their son or a stranger.

But before I end on a note that is too depressing, I want to assure you that all is not lost. The Overton window isn’t gently shifting back to the center; it’s zooming back. And that’s how you end up with these three boys—or really, given their moral decency and courage, I should call them young men:

Keep the faith and, for God’s sake, vote whenever the opportunity arises. It’s no use being outraged now and passive when it counts.