Devastating School Shooting at Century-Old Catholic Church in Windom Neighborhood Rattles Community

In the tranquil Windom neighborhood, where the soundscape is typically filled with the melodies of cicadas and sparrows, the ringing of church bells echoing across southwest Minneapolis’ skyline, a sudden disruption occurred on a late-August morning. The peace was shattered as gunfire erupted within the walls of Annunciation Catholic Church during its first school Mass of the year.

For generations, this venerable institution – church and school combined – has stood as a pillar of faith, family, and education for the Windom community. It has been the site of countless weddings, baptisms, bake sales, Boy Scout Christmas tree lots, and annual events like SeptemberFest, with its live music, pie, and outdoor Mass. If you didn’t attend Annunciation, chances are someone close to you did.

However, that sense of constancy was cruelly shattered when a former student turned the sanctuary into a scene of chaos and carnage. Children as young as pre-K were caught in the crossfire, forced to flee or seek cover while their teachers selflessly shielded them from harm.

By the time the shooting ended, two children – an 8-year-old and a 10-year-old – had lost their lives. Eighteen others sustained injuries, including 15 students and three elderly parishioners. The assailant was identified as 23-year-old Robin Westman, a former Annunciation student whose mother once worked at the church.

The violence has left an indelible mark on this century-old Catholic institution, stripping away the sense of security and sanctity that generations of alumni and parishioners have cherished for so long. Families with roots in the community stretching back decades are grappling to come to terms with the fact that the church that baptized them, married them, and educated their children became the site of such unspeakable tragedy.

The shooting has sent shockwaves through the neighborhood, leaving a trail of devastated families in its wake. For more than a century, Annunciation’s bells have marked the rhythm of life here – from first communions to weddings. The accompanying school, established in 1923, provided a nurturing environment for countless children, fostering lifelong bonds between students and teachers who often felt like extended family.

Maureen Cunniff, an alumna whose parents fell in love at the school before marrying there during a blizzard, has found herself crying on and off since hearing about the shooting. Her twin daughters and her sister also attended Annunciation.

As news of the tragedy spread, the community rallied together – with vigils held across the city that were too well-attended to fit inside one church. John Kisling, a lifelong member whose daughters recently graduated from the school, observed that this outpouring of support speaks to the strength and unity of the community.

Michele Faherty, another community member who was baptized at Annunciation and whose father led the school board, expressed her feelings of violation and disbelief: “It’s so upsetting to think that we as parents and as human beings can’t feel safe in a place where we should feel safe.”

Kailee Poling, 27, who attended Annunciation through eighth grade, broke down at a vigil as she clutched her infant daughter, saying “you don’t think it’s gonna happen in your community.”

For Kisling, the shooting touched almost every aspect of his life. He grew up near Annunciation, attended the school from kindergarten through eighth grade, and later sent both his girls there. “We’ve been a part of this community for 50-some years,” he said. “We never, ever had anything like this happen.”

Annunciation wasn’t just a school – it was a lifeline that connected the neighborhood through fundraisers, garage sales, potlucks, and parish traditions. Kisling still keeps in touch with friends he made there decades ago. His daughters, Audrey and Riley, are recent alumni who attended mission trips and summer camps run by the school.

“Everybody looks out for everybody,” Kisling said. “If you need something, somebody’s there to help you. And that’s few and far between in the way that the world is right now.”

That sense of trust was shattered on that fateful morning. The shooting, he said, was “organized, targeted.” His younger daughter barely slept that night.

“All I can do is give her a hug and say, ‘Everything’s going to be OK. This is a one-time thing. It just unfortunately had to be our time,'” he said.

But Kisling also voiced a plea: “These assault weapons need to go away … We’re lucky that 100 kids didn’t lose their lives, and it was only two. But that’s still not a number that I’m OK with.”

“Those little kids had dreams,” he said. Even those with looser ties to Annunciation were shaken by the attack. The tragedy pierced not only the windows of the church but also the foundations of a neighborhood that has long considered Annunciation its anchor.

In the hours following the attack, neighbors gathered on sidewalks and near memorials, offering hugs and prayers. Luke Anderson, 20, grew up biking to the church after school from nearby Anthony Middle, shooting hoops behind the church gym. On Wednesday, he pulled a red Radio Flyer wagon stacked with ice water, doughnuts, and popsicles for shaken children and families.

“It made me feel something to see a kid smile after all of that,” he said, eyes welling. Nearby, University of Minnesota student Hudson Grand, 22, stood outside the church with a bouquet of pink daisies in hand. He had come to the neighborhood to visit his grandfather at a nearby care home but found himself drawn to the grief emanating from the parish. He stared at the school through tears.

“Even though I don’t know anyone there, this happens too often,” Grand said. “But to have it this close, just really hits home.”

Annunciation Catholic Church, which had been designated as a safe evacuation site for students during emergencies at the adjacent school, became a place of loss instead. Despite the school’s preparations – regular lockdown drills and secure doors – the carnage could not be entirely prevented.

As the community grapples with grief, they cling to each other for support. Neighbors are offering hugs and prayers, as the community remains strong but forever changed.