Imagine a quiet, brilliant student morphing into a calculated killer targeting a former president—shocking, yet that’s the grim reality of a recent Pennsylvania incident.
As detailed by Fox News, the story of Thomas Matthew Crooks, the 20-year-old who attempted to assassinate former President Donald Trump at a Butler, Pennsylvania, rally last summer, is a haunting tale of mental unraveling.
Crooks started as a model student, scoring an impressive 1530 out of 1600 on the SAT and earning an engineering degree from the Community College of Allegheny County. He often made the dean’s list and had plans to transfer to Robert Morris University near Pittsburgh for a career in aerospace or robotics. Yet, beneath this promising exterior, something darker was brewing.
Back in middle school, Crooks’ worst offense was lunch detention for chewing gum—hardly the profile of a future threat. But over time, classmates recalled his interest in topics like the economy and cryptocurrencies, and he even designed a chess board for the visually impaired, inspired by his mother’s needs. It’s a bittersweet irony that such creativity later turned to destruction.
By April 2023, Crooks penned an essay advocating for ranked-choice voting to reduce political division, stating, “We need an election system that promotes kindness and cooperation instead of division and anger.” Oh, the bitter twist—his words preached unity, while his actions would soon scream chaos. It’s a reminder that ideals on paper don’t always match the heart’s intent.
Around the same period, the FBI noted Crooks began making over 25 firearm-related purchases online under an alias. He even bought gallons of nitromethane, a fuel additive usable in explosives, delivered straight to his home address. If that doesn’t raise red flags, one wonders what does.
In the summer of 2023, Crooks joined a local gun club, perhaps honing skills for a purpose yet unclear. His online activity shifted, browsing news, gun sites, and even the Trump administration archives. Soon, his searches grew ominous, including phrases like “How far was Oswald from Kennedy?”—a chilling hint at his fixation.
His internet history also revealed searches for “major depressive disorder” and “depression crisis,” painting a picture of inner turmoil. Meanwhile, he kept up appearances, working as a dietary aide at a skilled nursing facility in Bethel Park. The duality of normalcy and descent is unnerving, to say the least.
In the year leading up to the incident, particularly after graduating in May 2024, Crooks’ father noticed alarming behavior. He told investigators his son was talking to himself and dancing alone in his room late at night. With a family history of mental health and addiction issues, as reported by Pennsylvania State Police, the warning signs were tragically overlooked.
Rep. Clay Higgins, R-La., who investigated the July 13, 2024, shooting, described Crooks’ state as a “descent into madness,” noting, “He was having conversations with someone that wasn’t there.” One can’t help but wonder if this was a cry for help no one heard—or if society’s just too busy to notice. It’s a sobering thought in a world obsessed with surface-level fixes.
On the night of the attack, ATF agents visited Crooks’ Bethel Park home, only to evacuate after spotting an ammunition can with a wire and a jug labeled “nitromethane” in his closet. Outside, his parents told agents he enjoyed building things and visiting the gun range. His father’s claim of knowing “nothing” about his son’s plans feels like a heartbreaking disconnect.
Crooks’ story isn’t just about a failed assassination attempt on a figure many of us admire for shaking up the status quo; it’s a mirror to broader societal failures. How does a bright mind slip through the cracks into such darkness? It’s not about pointing fingers but recognizing that mental health isn’t a buzzword—it’s a crisis needing real solutions, not progressive platitudes.
Consider the words of Trish Thompson, Crooks’ engineering teacher, who said, “He seemed like a really intelligent kid – I thought he would be able to do whatever he wanted.” That potential, squandered by unseen struggles, should jolt us into asking hard questions about support systems. Are we too caught up in culture wars to see the human cost?
This incident, while targeting a leader who’s fought against what many see as a woke overreach, isn’t just about politics. It’s about a young man whose gradual transformation went unnoticed until it exploded into violence. We can criticize divisive policies all day, but ignoring mental health is a bipartisan blind spot.
Ultimately, the tragedy of Thomas Matthew Crooks challenges us to look beyond headlines and hashtags. If we’re serious about making America great, let’s start by ensuring no one else falls into such a void—because preventing the next crisis is worth more than any clever slogan. That’s not just conservative common sense; it’s human decency.
