Lance Twiggs, the 22-year-old partner of Tyler Robinson — the man charged with assassinating Charlie Kirk — has been spotted in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Texas, roughly six months after the fatal shooting that stunned the conservative movement.

Twiggs, a biological male transitioning to female, fled St. George, Utah, in the weeks following the September 10, 2025, attack and has been living with a Mormon family in Texas.

According to the Daily Mail, which first reported the sighting, Twiggs was seen with long, unkempt hair, a Taco Bell T-shirt, and a hardcover fantasy novel — spending most days gaming and reading, venturing out only for takeout and errands.

Twiggs has not been charged with a crime.

The shooting that silenced a voice

On September 10, 2025, Robinson drove approximately three hours from St. George to Utah Valley University in Orem, where Kirk was headlining a Turning Point USA event called "The American Comeback Tour." Roughly 3,000 people had gathered. About twenty minutes after the event began, a rooftop sniper's bullet struck Kirk in the neck, the NY Post reported.

Kirk was rushed to Timpanogos Regional Hospital in critical condition. He was pronounced dead later that afternoon.

Prosecutors say Robinson used his grandfather's scoped rifle. Before leaving for Orem that morning, he allegedly slipped a note under Twiggs' computer keyboard. The note, according to court documents:

"I had the opportunity to take out Charlie Kirk, and I'm going to take it."

Robinson now faces aggravated murder, felony discharge of a firearm causing serious bodily injury, two counts of obstruction of justice, two counts of witness tampering, and commission of a violent offense in the presence of a child. His father turned him in to the authorities after recognizing his son in surveillance images. Authorities have given no indication that Twiggs knew about the assassination beforehand.

A trail of breadcrumbs no one followed

Robinson's own words, surfaced through the investigation, suggest a young man stewing in political resentment. In one message, he wrote:

"Since Trump got into office [my dad] has been pretty diehard MAGA"

An unnamed relative of Twiggs told Fox News that Robinson had deteriorated during the relationship:

"I think Tyler got a whole lot worse in the year [he and Robinson] have been dating. They are big gamers, and obviously they have that group that influences them, as well as others."

The two shared a St. George apartment at $1,800 a month. Twiggs had moved in with Robinson after being kicked out of his parents' home. Sources suggest the pair may have bonded over disillusionment with both Trump and their religious upbringings — a volatile cocktail of grievance and isolation that, in Robinson's case, ended in murder.

This is a pattern worth naming. Not every alienated young person picks up a rifle. But the radical online ecosystems that feed political hatred — the gaming communities, the forums, the identity-politics pipelines that teach young people their anger is righteous — produce a steady stream of people who believe violence is justified against those they've been told are evil. The left has spent years minimizing this phenomenon when the target is a conservative. It cannot be minimized any longer.

What people say about Twiggs

Those who knew Twiggs before the relationship with Robinson describe someone unremarkable in the best sense. Braylon Nielsen, 19, whose brothers were close with Twiggs, told The Post:

"I loved Lance. His parents kicked him out of his house, and he lived with us. His parents never sat right with my family."

Nielsen added:

"He had straight As. He was very hardworking, not a big partier […] He just took care of people."

Ben Kaufman, superintendent of Twiggs' high school, offered a similar assessment:

"Everything I've heard about him, he was a great kid. He was nice. He worked hard."

None of this exonerates anyone. But it does sketch the outline of how radicalization works — ordinary people, severed from stabilizing institutions like family and church, drifting into relationships and communities that replace meaning with resentment.

Where the case stands

Robinson appeared at a hearing in Fourth District Court in Provo on December 11, 2025. His parents appeared at the same court on January 16, 2026. A February 3 hearing lasted several hours and included arguments over prosecutor disqualification and courtroom recording prohibitions. Judge Tony Graf has not yet ruled on the disqualification question — the next hearing is scheduled for February 24.

Twiggs, meanwhile, initially cooperated with the FBI's investigation and was placed under a four-man FBI security detail. That detail has since been dropped, confirmed more than four months after the shooting. Washington County Sheriff Nate Brooksby had told reporters only that Twiggs was in a "safe space very far away from St. George."

Texas, it turns out.

The silence that matters

Charlie Kirk was murdered in broad daylight, in front of 3,000 people, for the crime of speaking his mind on a college campus. A public vigil was held at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington on September 14, 2025. And then — as happens with every act of political violence against a conservative — the national conversation moved on with suspicious speed.

No sustained media inquiry into the radicalization pipeline. No searching cultural reckoning about what kind of rhetoric convinces a 22-year-old that assassination is a reasonable response to a debate event. The same media class that would have treated this as a civilizational inflection point if the victim had been a progressive treated it as a crime blotter item with a shelf life.

Tyler Robinson sits in a Utah jail awaiting trial. Lance Twiggs reads fantasy novels in a Texas suburb. Charlie Kirk is dead. The institutions that should be asking how this happened are busy pretending the question doesn't exist.