What we should have confronted after Charlie Kirk’s assassination

Op-ed views and opinions expressed are solely those of the author.

When Charlie Kirk was assassinated, America had a rare, fragile window—a moment when the country could have stopped, taken stock, and confronted some of the darkest truths about where we are and how we got here.

Instead, we squandered it.

Rather than reckoning with the moral, cultural, and political forces that made Charlie a target, the conversation was hijacked—derailed by antisemitic conspiracies, internet provocateurs, and attention-seekers more interested in clicks than truth. Figures like Candace Owens and others flooded the zone with insinuations, distractions, and grotesque narratives that had nothing to do with Charlie, his life, or the conditions that led to his murder.

And in doing so, they helped the country avoid the conversations it desperately needed to have.

This is precisely why I wrote For Christ and Country: The Martyrdom of Charlie Kirk—and why we still must have a reckoning.

Because what Charlie’s assassination demanded was not conspiracy, but clarity.

We should have talked about political dehumanization—how the Left spent years portraying Charlie not merely as wrong, but as evil, dangerous, and disposable. This was not rhetorical excess; it was systematic. Charlie was called a fascist, a Nazi, a threat to democracy. His Christian faith was mocked. His defense of the nuclear family was framed as violence. His refusal to submit to gender ideology was labeled “genocidal.” When you tell millions of people that a man is an existential threat, you are not shocked when someone eventually acts on it.

We should have talked about the normalization of political violence from the Left. Not hypotheticals. Not abstractions. But a pattern—riots justified as “mostly peaceful,” attacks reframed as “understandable anger,” threats excused as “speech.” Charlie’s murder did not happen in a vacuum. It occurred in a culture that had been trained to believe that silencing certain people—by any means—was morally justified.

We also should have talked—honestly and directly—about the increasingly violent and coercive nature of the transgender activist movement and the role it played in radicalizing the cultural environment in which Charlie was murdered.

Charlie was one of the most prominent and effective critics of radical gender ideology in the country. He challenged the lie that biology is subjective. He opposed the medicalization and mutilation of children. He rejected the idea that dissent is violence and that truth must bow to identity. For that, he was not simply opposed—he was relentlessly targeted.

In the years leading up to his death, transgender activists and their institutional allies normalized a language of eradication. Critics were branded “killers,” “genocidal,” and enemies who must be stopped. Protests outside churches, threats against speakers, doxxing campaigns, vandalism, and open calls for violence became routine—and were excused, justified, or ignored by media and political elites. Rage was sanctified. Intimidation was reframed as justice.

This movement did not seek debate. It sought submission. And when submission was refused, it turned to violence.

We should have confronted the reality that one of the most aggressively protected ideologies in modern America had become one of the most intolerant and punitive—enforced not just through social pressure, but through menace. We should have asked why institutions that claim to oppose extremism were willing to look the other way as threats escalated against people like Charlie Kirk.

Instead, the subject was treated as untouchable. Any attempt to connect rhetoric to consequences was dismissed outright. And so the culture learned a dangerous lesson: some movements are allowed to intimidate, threaten, and radicalize without accountability.

We should have talked about the spiritual rot beneath it all. Charlie wasn’t assassinated simply because he was conservative. He was targeted because he stood for something deeper: God, objective truth, moral order, restraint, and responsibility. The modern Left doesn’t merely reject these things—it wages war on them. Charlie represented a direct rebuke to a culture built on self-worship, moral relativism, and grievance. His very existence was an offense.

We should have talked about the collapse of fatherhood, masculinity, and purpose—and how Charlie spoke directly to young men the culture had abandoned. He told them their lives mattered. That responsibility was noble. That discipline was meaningful. That faith was strength, not weakness. For a movement that profits from confusion and despair, that message was intolerable.

We should have talked about the media’s role—not just in failing to protect Charlie, but in actively cultivating the climate that endangered him. Smears were amplified. Threats were ignored. Warnings were dismissed. And after his death, the same outlets rushed to sanitize the environment they helped create, pretending this was an isolated tragedy rather than a foreseeable outcome.

But instead of any of this, we got conspiracies.

We got grotesque antisemitic insinuations. We got internet fantasies. We got narratives that redirected anger away from the people and ideologies actually responsible. That wasn’t just irresponsible—it was useful. It allowed the Left to escape accountability. It allowed institutions to avoid self-examination. And it dishonored Charlie by replacing truth with spectacle.

My book refuses to do that.

For Christ and Country does not chase clicks. It does not indulge paranoia. It does not allow opportunists to hijack Charlie’s legacy. It is deliberately focused and uncompromisingly honest. It names the forces—cultural, ideological, spiritual—that made Charlie Kirk a target long before a bullet ever found him.

Charlie Kirk was not killed by a mystery.

He was killed by a culture that taught itself to believe that some people are too dangerous to be allowed to speak—or even to live in public.

The reckoning was delayed. It was dodged. It was buried under noise.

But it is still coming.

And it must—if Charlie’s life, mission, and sacrifice are going to mean anything at all.

Drew Thomas Allen, author of For Christ and Country: the Martyrdom of Charlie Kirk, is a writer, political commentator, and publicist whose client list includes some of the most influential conservative voices in America—including Charlie Kirk. Known nationally as “the Millennial Minister of Truth,” he hosts The Drew Allen Show.

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Drew Allen

Drew Allen is the host of “The Drew Allen Show” podcast. He is a Texas-bred, California-based and millennial author, columnist, and political analyst. His work can be read and seen and heard at drewthomasallen.com