Silence is claiming another victim.
Charlie Kirk, just 31 years old, was gunned down on a brightly lit campus stage last week. He wasn’t preaching violence — he was answering a student’s question. With that single act, cancel culture crossed from deplatforming into murder.
The assassin emptied a pistol and vanished into screaming darkness. Utah Valley University’s auditorium still smells of cordite and fear. Cameras rolled; millions watched as courage was met not with argument, but with bullets.
Charlie was more than a political figure. He was a husband to Erika, a father to two small children, a man of courage, conviction, and hope. He spent more than a decade visiting universities around the world, inviting young people into open debate. His hallmark words — “prove me wrong” — weren’t about provocation but persuasion. He showed that dialogue beats dogma, and that truth, spoken boldly, can change hearts.
For that courage, he paid the ultimate price.
Like Martin Luther King in his time, Charlie Kirk became a target precisely because he stood boldly, peacefully, and persuasively against the spirit of the age. And as with King, his death is a warning — that when words are misbranded as violence, violence becomes the answer. If bullets settle arguments, democracy dissolves into raw power.
The grief is sharp. His widow now faces the impossible task of explaining to two toddlers why their father isn’t coming home. But the even greater horror is seeing some celebrate his death online. That is not politics — it is dehumanization, and it poisons every corner of public life.
Charlie Kirk’s values are CitizenGO’s values: the sanctity of life, the centrality of the family, the defense of free speech, and the conviction that faith and moral truth are the foundation of real freedom. That is why silence is not an option.
Just before Charlie’s murder, Erika tweeted Psalm 46:1: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”
In hindsight, those words feel almost prophetic - a reminder that even when the nations rage and the mountains tremble, God has not abandoned us. Charlie lived by that truth. He knew that speaking God’s Word in a hostile world would invite hostility, but he trusted that the Lord would be his refuge. That same promise now holds Erika and their children in grief - and it must hold us too.
But grief alone is not enough. Silence will only embolden those who believe bullets can bury truth. Charlie’s death unmasks a society where debate is replaced by intimidation, and where even campuses — meant to be bastions of inquiry — are ruled by mobs and fear. Cancel culture has mutated from hashtags to homicide.
If violence is allowed to replace argument, no viewpoint is safe. Political violence harms everyone: left, right, and center. Tomorrow, it could be a progressive professor - or you.
Charlie Kirk’s values are CitizenGO’s values: free speech, life, family, and faith. If his killers thought they could silence those values, they were wrong. The only way to honor Charlie’s sacrifice is to multiply his courage - to declare that Christian and pro-family voices will not be driven from the public square.
Charlie’s death leaves us with a choice. We can shrink back, let fear rule us, and allow violence to dictate who may speak. Or we can take up the mantle Charlie carried — to stand unarmed but unafraid, speaking truth in love, no matter the cost.
Charlie believed with all his heart that truth does not stay buried. It can be crucified, but it rises again. Darkness strikes, but light returns. As he often said, “Jesus defeated death so that you might live.” That hope is stronger than bullets, stronger than hatred, stronger than fear.
And hope is contagious. Every signature on this pledge tells Erika and her children they are not alone. Every name rebukes those celebrating his murder. Every voice strengthens believers, students, and families tempted to fall silent.
This is how we turn mourning into mission. As the old saying goes: “They tried to bury us, but they didn’t know we were seeds.”
Charlie’s death must not be an ending, it must be the seed of a greater revival of courage.
