Charlie Kirk's Prosecutor Just Got Punished For WHAT?

**SPEAKER_1** (0:00)
This is The Big Breakdown, a long look back at some of the biggest stories we're covering for you at the Hidden Killers Podcast and True Crime Today.
This is Hidden Killers With Tony Brueski. Here now, Tony Brueski.

**Tony Brueski** (0:15)
Tyler Robinson allegedly confessed to killing Charlie Kirk in a handwritten note. He allegedly confessed in text messages. He allegedly confessed on Discord. He turned himself into the sheriff. His DNA is on the rifle. He's on surveillance video. Climbing onto the rooftop. Crawling into a shooting position and fleeing after the shot. And somehow, somehow, the prosecution is still finding ways to make this case look complicated.
That's what the story is about. Not whether Tyler Robinson killed Charlie Kirk. By every available piece of evidence, that question has an answer. This story is about every system that was supposed to prevent it. Every institution that was supposed to solve it. And every professional who was supposed to prosecute it. Each one of them, in sequence, found a way to fail. Give me your thoughts in the comment section and sub stack in YouTube. This is not a story about politics. We are talking about a murder case. All right, so know that going in. I'm not going this side or that side. I'm talking truth to reality, to power, to what the hell is going on here? None of this is making a whole lot of sense.
It's like there's a lot of incompetence in player. Or I don't know.

**SPEAKER_1** (1:38)
I don't know.

**Tony Brueski** (1:40)
Again, your thoughts in the comment section and sub stack in YouTube, there is no wrong answer. I'm just saying going into this, no, this is not a political piece. Charlie Kirk was obviously one of the most recognizable political figures in the country like him, hate him, he was. He co-founded Turning Point USA, built the largest conservative youth movement in America and was one of the closest allies to the sitting president outside of government. He had millions of followers. He had a wife, Erica, and two young children. He had a security team that traveled with him because he received constant threats. He was 31 years old. Whatever you thought of his politics and people thought a lot about his politics, obviously, he was in fact a human being. He walked on to a college campus on September 10th, the 25th to do something he had done hundreds of times before. Set up a tent, took questions from students, and 14 minutes in, a single rifle round hit him in the neck. He died at a local hospital.
His window was, or his widow, rather, was in the courtroom at the preliminary hearing. His parents were there. His kids will now grow up without their father. So here's a question that we have to ask, and a question that nobody in a position of power in Utah seems to be able to answer. How did every layer of protection around this man evaporate? We're going to talk about that first.
And we're going to get some more things as we mosey on down this conversation. Let's, I'm throwing it out there. I'm throwing these questions out there. I'm not throwing them out there with an answer. I'm throwing them out there as a question, because they deserve answers. Let's start with the university. Utah Valley University's outdoor courtyard, the venue for the event. It sits in a bowl surrounded by multi-story buildings, rooftops, with direct sight lines down into the speaking area. Brian Harpole, the Chief of Security, flagged the rooftop exposure to UVU Police Chief Jeff Long two weeks before the actual event. He asked whether the university would station officers on the roof or let Harpole's team do it. According to Harpole, nobody was ever actually assigned. His 12-member private security detail built barricades and presidential-style zones around the stage, but their justification stopped at about 30 meters. They couldn't enter student buildings. They couldn't patrol rooftops. They couldn't make arrests. Everything beyond the bubble was supposedly the university's responsibility from what we understand as of right now. And the university, by all available evidence, did almost nothing.
Six officers. That's what UVU put on this event. Six campus police officers for a crowd. It was supposed to be about 600 and turned out to be more than 3,000. No drones. Even though both Orem PD and the Utah County Sheriff's Office had drones, neither was asked to help. Fly around, keep an eye on things. Like the rooftops that just might be a great place for somebody to go should they have ill intentions.
No bag checks, no metal detectors, no dedicated ambulance. The university didn't even have a fire marshal on staff to help plan safety at large events, which is kind of basic for planning a large event. You sometimes you need like permits and things of that nature. I don't know how it works there in Utah, but it just seems like nobody really stepped up to the plate on the part of the university. From my perspective, why?