I write this with the same mix of sorrow and righteous anger that swept across the country when Charlie Kirk was gunned down while speaking at Utah Valley University on September 10, 2025 — an act that shocked a generation and exposed how dangerous our civic climate has become. Law enforcement quickly arrested a suspect, and the nation was left asking how public discourse in America metastasized into lethal violence.

The memorial that followed in Glendale, Arizona, was not a funeral in the private sense but a massive public reckoning: tens of thousands filled State Farm Stadium to mourn, to pray, and to pledge that Charlie’s work would not die with him. Prominent leaders, including figures from the Trump administration and other conservative allies, used the podium to frame his death as both a tragedy and a call to redouble the fight for faith, family, and free speech.

Among the most powerful moments was the address from Charlie’s chief of staff, Mike McCoy, who called Charlie a martyr and quoted Kierkegaard to say that a martyr’s influence only grows after his death. That message — solemn, biblical, and unapologetically bold — landed like a bell in an arena yearning for clarity and conviction, and it crystallized the resolve of a movement that refuses to be intimidated.

Let’s be clear: this is not the time for performative sorrow from the same institutions that normalized hatred for years. The comfortable elites in media and academia who cheered or shrugged at hostile rhetoric against conservatives have played a role in coarsening our public life, and many Americans rightly demand accountability for the culture that allowed this to happen. The truth is uncomfortable — when you erode norms and stoke contempt for political opponents, you invite chaos.

We also saw something rare and beautiful amid the political storm: Erika Kirk’s grace. In the immediate aftermath she publicly forgave the man accused of killing her husband and stepped into a leadership role with an unshakable faith in the mission they built together. Her forgiveness is not weakness; it is an expression of the moral strength that conservative Americans prize, and her willingness to lead Turning Point USA forward ensures Charlie’s work — encouraging young people to love country and faith — will continue.

Now comes the hard part for conservatives who claim to love liberty: we must harness this grief into disciplined, lawful action that defends free speech, strengthens families, and pushes back on the radical currents reshaping our institutions. That means winning hearts and minds on campus, holding institutions accountable for enabling hatred, and rebuilding a culture that values religion, community, and courage over contempt. There is no honor in vengefulness, but there is everything to be gained by principled, relentless engagement.

Charlie Kirk’s death should stiffen our spines, not soften our resolve. If a generation of conservatives learned anything from his life, it’s that boldness and conviction have consequences — sometimes bitter, sometimes glorious — but retreat is the surest path to cultural extinction. Stand firm in faith and reason, defend the right to speak freely without fear of violence, and let the movement he helped build be the answer to the chaos that seeks to consume our country.