WHEN SILENCE BECOMES DANGEROUS: A Call for Dialogue and Courage in the Face of Violence
There are moments in life that strip away illusion and force us to face uncomfortable truths. One of them is this: when people stop talking, darkness follows. When marriages stop talking, divorce takes root. When civilizations stop talking, civil war looms. And when we stop recognizing the humanity of those we disagree with, violence becomes easier to justify.
I hadn’t planned to make this video. Like many, when I first realized what had just happened, I was angry and broken. It wasn’t something I wanted to address here — a place where we usually keep things light, maybe funny, maybe educational. But there are times when silence is not an option. And today, I need to talk about Charlie Kirk.
Charlie, the founder of Turning Point USA, was known for building chapters on college campuses across America, creating space for young conservatives who often felt drowned out in one-sided environments. Personally, when I was a college student — for as brief a time as I was — I phone-banked for Turning Point. It gave me a start when I didn’t know where else to begin.
But Charlie was more than a political organizer. To those who knew him, he was a man of deep faith, a husband, and a father of two very young children. He was also someone willing to engage in respectful dialogue — to debate not with hate, but with facts, and with more compassion than most of us could muster.
On September 10th, while answering a student’s question at Utah Valley University, Charlie was shot in the neck with a .30-06 round and killed instantly. A man of words and conviction, silenced by someone who could not tolerate his voice. It was not just a political act. It was an assault on dialogue itself.
In the hours and days that followed, many of us walked under a heavy cloud. I won’t pretend I was close to Charlie, but I have friends who were. One of them told me, with tears in his voice: “Charlie Kirk saved my life.” That was who Charlie was. And unlike so many public figures who say one thing under the lights and live differently when the cameras turn off — Charlie lived what he preached.
And yet, social media filled with celebration. Laughter. Cruelty. People rejoicing that a 31-year-old father had been killed. I even overheard two men in a restaurant — laughing at the news, saying, “That’ll wipe the smug smile off his face.” That moment made me physically angry. Disagreeing with a man’s politics is one thing. But applauding his death? That is something else entirely — something that shows just how much humanity we’ve lost.
If you hated Charlie, you had the right to say so. Free speech allows for that. But no one has the right to celebrate murder. When we start treating violence as a justified answer to speech, we step into dangerous territory where our freedoms collapse.
In the last few days, I’ve been asked repeatedly: “Will you make a reenactment video of this assassination?” My answer is an absolute no. For three reasons.
First, because it would be grotesquely disrespectful — Charlie was a 31-year-old father of two whose body hasn’t even been laid to rest.
Second, because reenactments are usually meant to explore history, analyze conspiracies, or explain context. Here, there is nothing useful to add — no insight that would be worth reliving this horror.
Third, because the video already exists. High-quality, multiple angles, graphic beyond belief. Recreating it would not be education. It would be gore for the sake of gore. And I refuse to be part of that.
Another question I’ve been asked: “Will you keep campaigning? Will you still do rallies?” The answer is yes. Absolutely, yes. We will not cancel a single event. These cowards want to scare us into silence. The worst thing we could do is let them succeed. Of course, safety matters. But backing down is not an option. Charlie believed in dialogue, not retreat. To honor him, we must do the same.
And yet, there is a dark irony here. Ten years ago, when Charlie founded Turning Point USA, he gave it a name that suggested a change — a turning point. He had no way of knowing that his own death would become a turning point for so many of us. Now it is our responsibility to decide: will we let fear win, or will we transform our grief into resolve?
For me, the choice is clear. We must take this pain, this righteous anger, and turn it into strength. We must be louder, braver, more unflinching in our convictions than ever before. Someone must pick up the microphone Charlie dropped. I intend to be one of them. And I hope many of you will too.
The last time I saw Charlie was at a gathering in Washington, D.C., just before an inauguration. He was only a few feet away, surrounded by well-known figures. I thought about walking over to him, but I didn’t. I told myself, “Later.” But later never came. That missed opportunity haunts me.
So let me leave you with this: don’t miss the chance to speak to the people who matter to you. Don’t assume you’ll always have another opportunity. You may not.
If I could choose how to be remembered, it would be this: for courage, and for faith. And I believe that is how Charlie should be remembered too. He lived those words, even to the end. And now it is on us to carry them forward.