What if the man accused of gunning down Charlie Kirk gets to play dress-up in court… just like the CEO killer who sparked a cult following? 😡

Tyler Robinson’s shocking court win: Judge greenlights civilian clothes and camera blackouts—mirroring Luigi Mangione’s playbook amid “extraordinary” media frenzy. One high-profile hit. One “fair trial” plea. A nation watching justice get a makeover. Is this presumption of innocence… or a suspect’s red carpet?

Get the full explosive ruling details and fan backlash — link in bio before the next hearing! 👀

In a ruling that’s already drawing fire from conservatives and legal watchdogs, a Utah judge on Monday granted 22-year-old Tyler Robinson—charged with the September 10 assassination of conservative firebrand Charlie Kirk—the right to appear in court wearing civilian clothing rather than jail garb. The decision, handed down by 4th District Court Judge Tony Graf during a pretrial hearing in Provo, also bans cameras from capturing Robinson entering, exiting, or standing in the courtroom, while prohibiting any recording of his restraints. Robinson, who remains shackled for security reasons, did not appear in person or on camera for the hearing, but his attorneys hailed the order as a safeguard for a fair trial amid what they called “extraordinary” media scrutiny. The move mirrors a similar concession granted to Luigi Mangione, the 27-year-old accused of gunning down UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson in December 2024, whose high-profile case has spawned a bizarre cult following of supporters waving “Free Luigi” signs at his appearances. As Robinson’s January 16 waiver hearing looms, the decision underscores the tightrope courts walk in politically charged murder cases, where optics can sway juries as much as evidence.

The hearing stemmed from a motion filed last month by Robinson’s public defenders, Kathryn Nester and Jeremy Baker, who argued that parading their client in prison jumpsuit and chains would “inevitably lead to prospective juror perception that he is guilty and deserving of death.” They cited the case’s wall-to-wall coverage—Kirk’s slaying at a Utah Valley University event has dominated Fox News and Newsmax for weeks—as a risk for prejudicing the pool in conservative Utah County, where Kirk’s Turning Point USA organization ran youth voter drives that helped flip the state red in 2024. Prosecutor Chad Grunander pushed back, warning the accommodations would inconvenience the Utah County Sheriff’s Office and potentially embolden threats from Robinson’s online admirers, who have flooded social media with manifestos praising the killing as a strike against “fascism.” Graf split the baby: Civilian clothes approved as a “minimal inconvenience” outweighed by Robinson’s presumption of innocence, but shackles stay on “for the safety of all courtroom participants.”

Charlie Kirk’s accused assassin, Tyler Robinson, asked a judge to allow him to appear in civilian clothes in court.AP

This isn’t Robinson’s first brush with courtroom theater. His September 16 arraignment—where prosecutors unveiled a mountain of evidence, including DNA on the rifle’s trigger, text confessions to a roommate (“I spent a week planning this”), and bullet casings etched with anti-Kirk barbs like “Hey fascist!”—saw him beam in from jail wearing a suicide-prevention vest, sparking immediate backlash. Utah County Attorney Jeff Gray, announcing aggravated murder charges that carry the death penalty, called the slaying an “American tragedy,” noting Kirk’s role in mobilizing young Republicans for Trump’s 2024 victory. Robinson, a former UVU student from Orem whose politics reportedly swung left amid online radicalization, allegedly perched on a rooftop and fired a single .308 round into Kirk’s neck during a campus Q&A. He surrendered in Washington state days later, reportedly telling family Kirk “spread hate” that needed stopping.

The parallels to Mangione’s case are eerie—and intentional. Mangione, whose December 4, 2024, ambush of Thompson outside a Midtown Manhattan hotel ignited debates over corporate greed, scored a similar ruling in New York: Street clothes for hearings, depending on the courthouse, to avoid biasing observers. Like Robinson, Mangione faces federal and state murder raps, with prosecutors eyeing terrorism enhancements (though a state judge tossed two counts last month, ruling ideology alone doesn’t qualify under New York law). Both suspects hail from middle-class families—Robinson’s mom told cops her son fixated on Kirk’s “hate speech,” while Mangione’s Ivy League pedigree and chiseled looks birthed a fanbase of young women in “Luigi’s Pizza” tees chanting for his acquittal. Mangione’s supporters, who packed his September 16 hearing with “Free Luigi” placards, even drew lines against Robinson: “Luigi bit corruption; Tyler’s just political,” one told the Daily Mail. Yet both have inspired dark-web manifestos and X threads (formerly Twitter) hailing them as anti-establishment martyrs, with #FreeTyler spiking 150,000 mentions post-ruling.

Legal experts see the rulings as standard fare in high-stakes trials. “Jail attire screams ‘guilty’ to juries—it’s Estelle v. Williams 101,” says Northeastern criminologist Jack McDevitt, who studies political violence. Graf echoed that, noting the “extraordinary attention” from outlets like Fox, where Kayleigh McEnany blasted the decision as “coddling killers.” But critics, including Kirk’s widow Erika, who secured a pretrial protective order, decry it as “glamorizing assassins.” X lit up with outrage: “Cameras banned? So the public can’t see the monster who orphaned Kirk’s kids?” one viral post ranted, amassing 8K likes. Conspiracy corners buzz louder—some claim Robinson’s a “patsy” like Lee Harvey Oswald, with no clear rooftop footage despite campus cams.

Robinson is accused of fatally shooting conservative firebrand, Kirk, on Sept. 10.

Robinson’s defense isn’t done. Nester told reporters deliberations continue on full camera access for trial, potentially invoking a sealed hearing if media “circulates images” biasing the jury. Prosecutors, eyeing execution, lean on a confession note: “Opportunity to kill a leading fascist voice—I’m taking it.” Governor Spencer Cox, a Kirk ally, decried the slaying as “radicalization’s dark fruit,” linking it to online echo chambers that birthed both Robinson and Mangione.

As the cases collide in the public eye—federal vs. state jurisdiction fights brewing for both—the rulings spotlight a grim trend: Youthful assassins, from 20-something radicals to Ivy grads, turning politics lethal. McDevitt warns: “Social media amplifies manifestos into memes. These aren’t lone wolves; they’re viral packs.” For Kirk’s family, grieving a 31-year-old dad of two, the optics sting. “Justice shouldn’t come with a wardrobe change,” Erika posted on X.

In Provo’s hushed halls, Robinson’s next act unfolds January 16. Will civilian threads humanize a killer, or just fuel the frenzy? As Mangione’s fans chant in Manhattan, one truth cuts through: In America’s divided arena, even shackles can’t chain the spectacle.