White House Slams Murphy After He Blames Trump for Shooting Tragedy

Paul Riverbank, 12/15/2025Sparked by tragedy at Brown, fierce Washington debate erupts over gun laws, blame, and prevention.

Inside Washington, emotions are running no less raw. Senator Chris Murphy of Connecticut, a familiar voice ever since the Sandy Hook tragedy scarred his district, spoke with rare bluntness on CNN, calling out President Trump’s recent moves—removing restrictions for people with felony histories to get their gun rights back, slashing funding for programs aimed at nipping violence and mental health crises in the bud—as, in Murphy’s words, “a dizzying campaign to increase violence in this country.” The context for his anger is not abstract: “A community never, ever recovers from a shooting like this,” he said of Brown, his conviction heavy as a stone.

It’s more than policy for Murphy—it’s personal and exhausting. The White House, though, wasted no time in responding. Trump spokesperson Abigail Jackson swung back, dismissing Murphy’s accusations as “lies,” and shot the counterpoint straight: Democrats, she charged, had “incited violence” themselves, referencing past moments of unrest on the left.

What draws the sharpest line between these camps is what each believes gun laws and related funding can—or cannot—do. Murphy holds tight to the idea that legal levers matter: wherever communities have fortified their restrictions, he says, shootings taper off. He bristled, too, at the abrupt shuttering of the White House Office of Gun Violence Protection, and at money earmarked for violence interruption vanishing from the budget sheets.

But there’s a traffic jam ahead for legislation. The wheels of Congress grind slowly, and Murphy’s hope for crossing the aisle on new gun controls has begun to sound a little weary, if still determined. “I will never stop trying to get bipartisan support,” he said, “but I think it is pretty clear that President Trump and this White House are in the pocket of the gun lobby.” That warning sits heavy with advocates, many of whom have leaned on federal grants for anti-violence and mental health efforts now facing budget cuts or outright elimination.

Details from Providence, where authorities confirmed someone in their 30s is being held in connection with the shooting, are still largely out of view. So far, officials aren’t sure how the gun made its way onto campus or what, precisely, spurred the violence. For those left behind—friends, family—the search for sense may stretch on for years.

Americans, meanwhile, are forced once again to reckon with the same old debate, one that never truly cools. Murphy argues that the path is direct: relax the rules, cut funds, and violence follows. His language is no longer tentative: if you give guns back to people with a record of violence, strip away funds for clinics and prevention, and leave communities to face crises alone, “you are going to have an increase in violence that is knowable and that is foreseeable.”

For every mass shooting, the conversation circles back with fresh urgency, yet it rarely lands on common ground. For now, that middle space—where grief, anger, and policy all swirl together—feels as out of reach as ever.

There was a brief hush on the Brown University campus Sunday evening, the kind that seems to drop after chaos. News crawled quickly: two students dead, several more wounded — and, just like that, another shooting threaded itself into the long and troubled American narrative.Inside Washington, emotions are running no less raw. Senator Chris Murphy of Connecticut, a familiar voice ever since the Sandy Hook tragedy scarred his district, spoke with rare bluntness on CNN, calling out President Trump’s recent moves—removing restrictions for people with felony histories to get their gun rights back, slashing funding for programs aimed at nipping violence and mental health crises in the bud—as, in Murphy’s words, “a dizzying campaign to increase violence in this country.” The context for his anger is not abstract: “A community never, ever recovers from a shooting like this,” he said of Brown, his conviction heavy as a stone.It’s more than policy for Murphy—it’s personal and exhausting. The White House, though, wasted no time in responding. Trump spokesperson Abigail Jackson swung back, dismissing Murphy’s accusations as “lies,” and shot the counterpoint straight: Democrats, she charged, had “incited violence” themselves, referencing past moments of unrest on the left.What draws the sharpest line between these camps is what each believes gun laws and related funding can—or cannot—do. Murphy holds tight to the idea that legal levers matter: wherever communities have fortified their restrictions, he says, shootings taper off. He bristled, too, at the abrupt shuttering of the White House Office of Gun Violence Protection, and at money earmarked for violence interruption vanishing from the budget sheets.But there’s a traffic jam ahead for legislation. The wheels of Congress grind slowly, and Murphy’s hope for crossing the aisle on new gun controls has begun to sound a little weary, if still determined. “I will never stop trying to get bipartisan support,” he said, “but I think it is pretty clear that President Trump and this White House are in the pocket of the gun lobby.” That warning sits heavy with advocates, many of whom have leaned on federal grants for anti-violence and mental health efforts now facing budget cuts or outright elimination.Details from Providence, where authorities confirmed someone in their 30s is being held in connection with the shooting, are still largely out of view. So far, officials aren’t sure how the gun made its way onto campus or what, precisely, spurred the violence. For those left behind—friends, family—the search for sense may stretch on for years.Americans, meanwhile, are forced once again to reckon with the same old debate, one that never truly cools. Murphy argues that the path is direct: relax the rules, cut funds, and violence follows. His language is no longer tentative: if you give guns back to people with a record of violence, strip away funds for clinics and prevention, and leave communities to face crises alone, “you are going to have an increase in violence that is knowable and that is foreseeable.”For every mass shooting, the conversation circles back with fresh urgency, yet it rarely lands on common ground. For now, that middle space—where grief, anger, and policy all swirl together—feels as out of reach as ever.