Early Column Release | Charlie Kirk: Reason Personified, A Legacy We Must Carry Forward (October 2025)

By State Sen. Rob Sampson

I am still heartbroken over the loss of Charlie Kirk. The depth of my grief has surprised even me. Losing Charlie has weighed heavily on me, and I see that same grief in the eyes of many others. Recently, as I watched clips of him engaging with people who tried (unsuccessfully) to challenge his views, I realized I could recognize his voice anywhere. Clear. Confident. Rooted in values I hold dear. And then a sobering truth sank in: there will be no more new clips from Charlie. No fresh debates. No new podcasts. Only reruns. That realization hit me harder than I expected.

Why does this loss feel so personal to so many of us who never met him face to face? I heard it described this way, and I think it’s exactly right: God has woven a fabric that binds our culture together. We are stitched into the same cloth, united by shared values and hopes for America. And when one of those threads is cut, the whole fabric feels the pull. Charlie was one of those threads—strong, bright, and woven deeply into American life.

Charlie was reason personified. And by reason, I don’t just mean being smart or having a clever argument. Real reason means looking at the facts honestly, weighing them carefully, and coming to conclusions that make sense. It means refusing to sink into shouting matches, name-calling, or violence, and instead relying on logic, persuasion, and honest dialogue. That’s exactly what Charlie did. His famous challenge— “Prove me wrong”—wasn’t hostile. It was an open invitation: come sit down, let’s talk, let’s see whose ideas hold up. That’s why millions of people, especially young people, loved him.

And here is something worth pausing on: Not only did Charlie give voice to our worldview—faith, freedom, and country—but he gave an outlet to those who opposed us. He offered them a chance to step forward, challenge him, and be heard. They should have appreciated that platform. They should have relished it. In a culture increasingly hostile to free debate, Charlie welcomed disagreement. That was his genius—and why he was considered a threat.

Because, he was a threat. Where Charlie sought dialogue, some on the far left continue to choose hate instead. I’ve watched people step up to the microphone at his events. Charlie gave them every chance to make their case. Some did. But many disrespected him, hurled insults, and walked away angry because they couldn’t win the debate. That says a lot.

And it isn’t just on campus. Across this country, the extreme left has been behind countless riots, property damage, and acts of political violence. By contrast, look at the response to Charlie’s assassination. He was one of the heroes of the right, and yet not a single act of violence has resulted in return. That difference matters.

I have always and will always defend free speech—even the most critical, insulting, or “hateful” speech, if that is all it is. Words can be answered with words. What cannot be defended is when rhetoric crosses into violence. That must never be tolerated. I place full blame for Charlie’s murder on the shooter. No one else squeezed the trigger. But those who constantly inflame rhetoric and dehumanize people like Charlie cannot pretend their words had no part in raising the temperature of our culture. They are guilty of something, even if not “murder.”

Charlie’s assassination was more than the killing of a man. It was an attack on all of us who share his views and values. It was, in truth, a war on the very idea of America—and on the belief that disagreements should be settled through debate, not bullets.

I feel a kinship with Charlie. I fight for many of the same values, and I’ve seen the same hatred: the trolls, the irrational outbursts, the insults hurled in place of reason. Like Charlie, I’ve learned firsthand that there is a better way. Reason is stronger than rage. Truth is stronger than violence. And Charlie’s life proves that reason has the power to move millions.

Indeed, in the past week, millions have gathered at vigils to honor him. I was grateful to be invited to speak at some of these events in Connecticut, and to feel the love, faith, and patriotism he inspired. Standing among so many who were mourning, yet also hopeful, I was reminded of Lincoln’s words at the close of the Civil War: “We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies.” Lincoln spoke in the nation’s most divided moment when vengeance seemed natural. Yet he pointed us back to friendship, reason, and reconciliation. That is precisely what Charlie stood for.

I have many heroes from history, but very few contemporary ones. Charlie Kirk was one of them. His life—and his assassination—will be remembered alongside others cut down before their great work was finished: Abraham Lincoln, John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr. They stood for ideas bigger than themselves, and their deaths shook the nation. Charlie now joins that tragic list.

Filling the void he leaves behind will be impossible. But thank God for his remarkable wife, Erika. In her grief, she showed astonishing strength. She vowed that Charlie’s fight, and Turning Point USA, will live on. Her promise should inspire every one of us to stand taller, speak louder, and defend the values Charlie lived for. And we must also be grateful for the millions across America who loved Charlie, who will not let his voice be silenced.

We are Charlie Kirk. And in his name, with God’s help, we will carry this torch forward.

May God bless Charlie, bless Erika and their family, and may God bless America.