Secrets behind Tyler Robinson’s lucrative family business revealed — as Utah taxpayers foot $10M legal bills for Charlie Kirk’s alleged killer

ST. GEORGE, Utah — Tyler Robinson’s dad was back running his thriving local business this week — days after he showed up in court to support his son as troves of damning evidence about Charlie Kirk’s murder were publicly revealed for the first time.

Matthew Robinson has been at his son’s side since the beginning — even turning him over to cops after he allegedly confessed to killing the Turning Point USA founder last September.

But when it comes to his legal defense, Tyler Robinson, 23, is on his own — and Utah taxpayers are footing the bill, which could exceed $10 million.

Matthew Robinson was spotted commuting from his $600,000 southern Utah home to his masonry business.

As his son awaits his fate, Matthew Robinson is apparently back to his normal routine — driving his GMC pickup truck to the unmarked warehouse on the outskirts of St. George.

The stone and marble supplier runs on word-of-mouth marketing and tight relationships with loyal clients, according to multiple sources who have done business with him.

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Most of Matthew Robinson’s customers have stuck with the family despite the charges against his son. The elder Robinson rarely mentions his son, according to a colleague who asked to remain anonymous.

The company has been in the family for more than a decade, but Matthew’s brother and co-founder previously sued him, claiming he embezzled $100,000 over the course of nearly two years, according to a lawsuit filed in 2014.

The brother, Clint Robinson, accused Matthew of trading work for personal favors, hiding financial records, and once said they would go to jail if authorities were to see their books, according to court records.

Clint requested multiple restraining orders, but the brothers later reached a confidential settlement.

The lawyer for Clint Robinson declined to comment, and Matthew’s lawyers did not respond to The Post’s inquiry on Thursday.

Robinson’s parents, Matthew and Amber, have kept quiet after he allegedly shot the conservative leading light at Utah Valley University, about a three-hour drive from their hometown.

Friends, teachers, and neighbors remembered Tyler Robinson as a hardworking, church-going kid who seemed close with his parents — at least from the outside.

Robinson briefly attended Utah State University with a prestigious scholarship, but later dropped out.

He then moved in with trans lover Lance Twiggs, and grew increasingly politically radical, according to evidence prosecutors laid out in a bombshell pre-trial hearing this month.

Robinson spent his time gaming chatting online in a rented room across town from his parents, Twiggs said in video testimony played at the hearing.

Prosecutors presented evidence that Robinson confessed to killing Kirk at least three times to Twiggs — including in a love letter in which he called Twiggs by his trans furry name, Luna.

Twiggs recalled Robinson breaking down in tears before declaring that he was ready to come clean to his parents; he later showed up to the sheriff’s office with his dad and a former cop family friend, prosecutors say.

Robinson worked for an electrical contractor before his arrest, but a judge declared him “indigent” and hired high-powered defense attorneys from California and Utah to defend him.

His lawyers have asked the state for $2 million in additional funding for the trial, which could cost more than $10 million after potentially years of appeals upon conviction, according to experts.

The whopping cost is the result of the time and expert witnesses needed to defend such a sensational capital-murder case with stakes as high as they get, Neama Rahmani, a prominent former prosecutor with no ties to the case, told The Post.

Robinson’s hometown — a tight-knit, predominantly Mormon enclave nestled in the cliffs and buttes of the southern Utah desert — is still reeling from their alleged local-boy-made-bad.

“I’m not sure how I felt,” Robinson’s former high school teacher Rich Hentosh told The Post after watching prosecutors lay out evidence against him this month.

“It was quite dramatic. All the news media, you try to take it all in. It tough to see one of your students in this kind of a situation, whether they’re guilty or innocent.”

He and his neighbors never asked to be at the center of one of the nation’s biggest scandals. And nearly a year later, they’re ready for it all to end.

“The community is just done,” he said.