Reflections on a Tragic Day

It started out like any other Wednesday. I got to work, expecting the usual routine. There was tape to prepare, clips to post on Facebook, and of course, a “four minute topic” to cover. As I thought about what stories to discuss, it felt like déjà vu—same subjects, same debates. I really hoped something newsworthy would come up. Perhaps the anticipated announcement of an executive order from Trump would break the monotony. That could be interesting.

Then there was the added responsibility of running the prompter for the Glenbeck special. I can’t lie; I was anxious about the delay, especially since Glenn was far away at his ranch. I know it can be annoying to wait when I’m not quick enough. I really wish I didn’t have to manage the prompter right now. It was supposed to be my job.

You did not destroy his legacy. You have assured it never dies. Charlie Kirk and his influence will live forever.

Then the unimaginable happened. Just like that, Charlie Kirk was shot. It didn’t look good, and the Republican movement has been irrevocably altered. We’ve lost brave leaders—those who dared to speak truth and boldly share their faith in Jesus Christ. People like Charlie who dedicated their platforms to spreading good news.

If you read my writings over the years, you’ll notice I’ve wrestled with my own faith. Honestly, the first sincere prayer I’ve uttered in ages was for Charlie to pull through. I needed him to make it. Now, I’m a bit lost.

Charlie was just like me. I’d seen a post on X that made me stop and think. I took a moment to read it:

Charlie was my age. He was a father like me. He was a Christian like me. He had no more extreme beliefs than I have. I just think this means they want to die.

Charlie and I were the same age. I went home to my son at the end of that horrifying day; Charlie didn’t. I held my son tightly and wept. As I tucked him in, I found myself wondering: Will I see him wake up tomorrow? I might not be the staunch Christian I once was, but I still hold onto my beliefs. Charlie was slain for his convictions.

But who’s next? Is another conservative voice in danger? I’m not nearly as well-known as Charlie Kirk, so maybe I’m safe? But it does make you think—if they knew what I believed, would they come after me too?

Looking back on that stressful day, I can’t shake the feeling of regret. I wish I didn’t have to figure out what stories to share. I wish I didn’t have to juggle all those responsibilities. When I think of the inconveniences I faced that day, it all seems so trivial compared to the loss we suffered. I really hate that day.

This tragedy will resonate deeply within conservative circles. It marks a pivotal moment in American politics and the way we engage in discourse. I genuinely hope that the sinister act that took Charlie from us will only serve to strengthen his legacy.

The coward who took Charlie’s life—the love of a woman and the father of two innocent children—failed. They didn’t silence him; they amplified his voice. You didn’t destroy his legacy; you guaranteed it will never fade. Charlie Kirk’s impact will endure.

I constantly remind myself of this, and I encourage you, dear reader: go to church. It can heal you. Start a family, nurture the one you have. Charlie stood for what he believed in, and we owe it to him to ensure that his passion continues to burn brightly for generations to come.

We owe him that. His legacy must carry on. This is a turning point. Let’s make it count.