Charlie Kirk Memorial Service
On September 10th, 2025 my heart broken. It should have been a regular, productive day at the office. Around noon, my husband texted, “Have you heard the news?” A moment later, my friend Christine messaged me, “Pray for Charlie, he was shot.”
I started praying under my breath and called my husband. He said, “We don’t know yet.” By about 2 p.m., the news broke: he’d been shot and killed. I was in a meeting with my friend MARISOL about her commercial cleaning conference in Phoenix, trying to keep a straight face. I stepped out to compose myself, came back in, and finally shared what I’d heard. We said a prayer. When the meeting ended, I broke down. My business partner gave me a big hug. The rest of the day was a blur.
I first met Charlie years earlier at a fundraiser at Christine’s house. He was always raising support for his organization, TURNING POINT USA. He was young, maybe 23 to 25, ambitious, joyful, focused, and grounded in faith. I remember thinking, “This kid is powerful.” Later, I saw him at several events with KARI LAKE during her run for governor. He loved and supported her openly. The last time I saw him was at a fund raiser for Kari’s run for senator. When he spoke on her behalf for the Senate race. His speech was strong and polished; he was already a star!
In the early days, he shook every hand and connected with everyone. As time went on, his schedule got intense, but he still found ways to make things happen quickly, deals, connections, and momentum. Now I think he moved that fast because, somehow, he was working against a clock that none of us could see.
News of his death rippled across the country and the world. People who had never met him asked themselves, “Why am I crying for someone I didn’t know?” It was because he stood for free speech and American values. For me, it was deeply personal. I had hugged him, shaken his hand, watched him rise so quickly into a leader—really, almost a world leader. Losing him hurt.
A week before the memorial, my friends ADA and Ron, and I decided to go. We reserved our spots and told ourselves we might not get in. People were predicting more than 100,000 people might show up. On Sunday, I left home at 6:30 a.m., met my friends at 7:30 in Scottsdale, and we drove without expectations. Miles away from the stadium, cars were already parking and people were walking. Ron said, “Keep going, let’s get as close as we can.” We finally found a garage just a block from the stadium. It was overwhelming seeing the streets and the people who got there the night before.
Secret Service security was tight. We worked our way forward and, by a small miracle, an organizer opened a near-empty lane by the gate. Suddenly we were in the security queue with what felt like 70,000 people behind us. People near us said they’d arrived at 3 a.m. and couldn’t believe we’d gotten there an hour and a half earlier and were already moving. It was warm, but the clouds covered the sun: kind, gentle shade, as if the day itself understood what we were there to do. It felt like Charlie opened a door for us.
Inside, the stadium filled by the minute. We climbed to the upper level, Section 410 and the view was beautiful. Christian artists sang, and when the music stopped the crowd kept singing, thousands of voices carrying the words. People were joyful and grieving all at once. I felt peace. and acceptance. The word I’m reaching for is somewhere between “content” and “surrender.” He was gone, and yet the love in that place made us stronger and more committed to the work he lived for: faith, country, and courage.
Political, religious and business leaders were there, more than I’ve ever seen in one place. President Trump, his Cabinet and even Elon Musk were there. What moved me most was when his widow Erika spoke about forgiveness, she forgave his killer. That is not easy. I’ve been there, and I know that when you forgive, God protects you and lifts you to the next level of what you’re called to do.
We are so proud that she’s stepping forward now as CEO of the organization, TPUSA.
33,000 NEW chapters across the country, in colleges and high schools, are getting ready to open to carry on Charlie’s legacy. In many ways, he’s become a martyr. I still listen to him every day. We researched and realized that if you tried to listen to every lecture, debate, and conversation he recorded, it would take 24 hours a day for six months to get through it all.
We pray for Erika’s protection and for their children. I believe Charlie is beside her, invisible but present, guiding her steps. And we’ll be there too, standing up, speaking out, and finishing what he started.
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