Charlie Kirk’s Assassination Isn’t Justice. It’s a Warning.

When I heard that Charlie Kirk had been assassinated, I was stunned. But what shocked me even more was how many people celebrated it — as if his death were some sort of victory. It made me reflect, not just on who he was, but on how people have come to talk about him — and others like him.

I’ve always enjoyed watching clips of Charlie debating on college campuses. The exchanges were heated, sure, but that was the point. I’ve never seen a student “win” one of those debates — and honestly, that made sense. He was older, more experienced, and had spent years studying politics and policy. Many students came with strong opinions, but not always with facts or frameworks. And still, Charlie gave them the mic.

That’s one of the things many people didn’t understand about his campus tour: he wasn’t just there to “own the libs.” If you looked closely, you could see that he wanted students to speak up — even if they disagreed with him. He seemed genuinely pleased when someone dared to challenge him. And most of the time, he responded not with mockery, but with explanation.

Yes, some of the clips went viral for all the wrong reasons — close-ups that made it seem like he was surrounded only by angry students, or short edits that erased context. I think that helped shape a false image of Charlie as a bully who enjoyed picking fights with young people. But what I saw was different: someone trying to empower youth through dialogue, even when he didn’t agree with them.

Sometimes, the students crossed lines — yelling, cursing, calling him names. And yes, Charlie pushed back when it went too far. But he also let a lot slide. More than most public figures would in that setting.

It wasn’t until the day of the shooting, when footage from the event started circulating, that I saw something I hadn’t seen in all those viral clips: the size of the crowds. The mix of people. Many were there to support him. There were also lots of non-supporters, but in spite of that came to hear him. That’s not the picture most people see online.

Charlie Kirk was a polarizing figure for a reason. His rhetoric was often sharp, his phrasing sometimes deliberately provocative. He was the kind of person who knew how to trigger reactions — and he used that skill often.

At the same time, we need to ask: were all his “worst” quotes as evil as they seemed? Or were some just uncomfortable truths, clipped out of context, or moments of exaggeration to make a point?

I’m not here to defend every word he ever said. But I am here to say this: most of us have said something heated, sarcastic, or badly worded — whether in a debate, on social media, in private conversations, or even in moments of stress. Especially when we care deeply about what we’re discussing. The difference is, Charlie had a massive audience, and his words were constantly under the microscope.

We live in an era where attention is currency, and controversy sells. Sometimes Charlie leaned into that. But sometimes the audience — and the media — twisted it for their own gain too.

What disturbs me most right now isn’t just that Charlie Kirk is dead — it’s that so many people think that’s a good thing.

Some have even tried to justify their celebration of Charlie Kirk’s death by quoting his old critique of the term 'empathy' — as if rejecting the concept in theory means he didn’t deserve any in death. But that’s not how empathy works. It’s not something you earn by being agreeable. It’s a reflection of our own capacity to remember there's a life behind the public image — even when we strongly disagree. Kirk’s criticism wasn’t about denying people’s humanity; it was about how political discourse can manipulate emotion. Ironically, those twisting his words now are doing exactly what he warned about.

A lot of people seem to believe they’re on the “right side of history” for cheering his assassination. But if what happened to him is considered justice — or even acceptable — then we should all be worried.

Because if it only takes a few political hot takes to be publicly targeted and killed, then freedom of speech, freedom of thought, and even freedom to make a mistake are all under threat. Today it’s someone you disagree with. Tomorrow it could be someone you love. And another day it could be YOU.

You don’t have to agree with Charlie Kirk. You don’t even have to like him. But celebrating his death doesn’t make you righteous — it makes you numb to something terrifying. It means you’re okay with violence as long as it’s aimed at someone you believe deserves it.

And that’s not justice. That’s just vengeance pretending to be virtue.

Final thought:

If we’re unable — or unwilling — to acknowledge the humanity in someone like Charlie Kirk, even in the wake of his death, then perhaps we need to ask what that says about our own. Compassion isn't a reward for agreement. It's a reflection of our values, especially when tested by those we fiercely disagree with.