In a swift and decisive move that has resonated across campuses nationwide, Texas State University has expelled a student who callously mocked the tragic assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk with a cruel re-enactment during a memorial vigil. The incident, captured on video and rapidly spreading across social media, has ignited a firestorm of outrage, underscoring the deep divisions in American society while affirming that hatred and disrespect have no place in civil discourse. As the dust settles, this episode stands as a firm testament to justice for Charlie Kirk’s memory, proving that his legacy of bold conservatism and youth empowerment will always be honored, even in the face of such vile antagonism.

Charlie Kirk, the 31-year-old founder of Turning Point USA (TPUSA), was a polarizing yet undeniably influential figure in American politics. Born on October 14, 1993, in Arlington Heights, Illinois, Kirk rose from a high school conservative enthusiast to a national powerhouse, co-founding TPUSA in 2012 at just 18 years old. The organization, dedicated to promoting free-market principles, limited government, and traditional values on college campuses, grew into a multimillion-dollar enterprise with chapters at over 2,500 schools. Kirk’s sharp rhetoric, often delivered in rapid-fire debates and campus tours, made him a darling of the right and a target of the left. He was a staunch ally of former President Donald Trump, frequently appearing at rallies and advising on youth outreach. His books, like The MAGA Doctrine and Campus Battlefield, sold millions, and his podcast reached tens of millions of listeners monthly.

Kirk’s life was cut short on September 10, 2025, during a speaking event at Utah Valley University in Orem, Utah. Addressing a crowd of students on topics ranging from election integrity to cultural Marxism, Kirk was fatally shot in the neck by a gunman who emerged from the audience. The assassin, identified as 22-year-old Ryan Wesley Routh—a self-proclaimed anti-fascist with a history of online radicalism—fired multiple rounds before being subdued by security. Kirk died at the scene, sparking national mourning and a massive FBI manhunt that ended with Routh’s capture two days later. The assassination sent shockwaves through the conservative movement, with figures like Trump, JD Vance, and Ben Shapiro eulogizing Kirk as a fearless warrior for freedom. Vance, in particular, called for accountability against those celebrating the killing, stating, “People who celebrate the killing of conservative influencer Charlie Kirk should be held accountable.”

The tragedy’s ripple effects were felt far beyond Utah, manifesting in vigils, tributes, and, unfortunately, instances of gleeful mockery from detractors. Nowhere was this more starkly evident than at Texas State University in San Marcos, Texas, where a memorial event organized by the local TPUSA chapter turned into a flashpoint of controversy. On September 16, 2025, students gathered around a campus statue to honor Kirk, sharing stories of his impact and praying for his family. The atmosphere was somber, reflective—a collective grieving for a man who had dedicated his life to engaging young minds.

Enter Devion Canty Jr., a 20-year-old Texas State student majoring in criminal justice. In a video that quickly went viral—amassing over 2 million views on X (formerly Twitter) within hours—Canty approached the vigil, slapped his neck dramatically, and collapsed to the ground in a grotesque parody of Kirk’s final moments. “Charlie Kirk got hit in the neck, bitch!” he shouted, convulsing mockingly before standing up and repeating the act. He then chanted, “F–k Charlie Kirk! F–k Charlie Kirk!” while gesturing obscenely at the mourners. The crowd, stunned, responded with calls of “God bless you” and pleas for peace, but the damage was done. The footage, posted by witnesses, captured the raw hatred in Canty’s actions, drawing immediate condemnation from across the political spectrum.

Texas Governor Greg Abbott, a vocal conservative and frequent collaborator with Kirk on campus free speech initiatives, wasted no time in responding. Reposting the video on X, Abbott declared, “Expel this student immediately. Mocking assassination must have consequences.” His words echoed a broader call for accountability amid a wave of similar incidents following Kirk’s death. Within six hours, Texas State University President Kelly Damphousse announced that the individual in the video was “no longer a student at TXST.” In a statement, Damphousse emphasized, “I will not tolerate behavior that mocks, trivializes, or promotes violence on our campuses. It is antithetical to our TXST values.” While federal privacy laws prevented further details, sources confirmed Canty’s expulsion, marking a rare instance of swift administrative action in response to student conduct.

Canty’s expulsion wasn’t isolated. The aftermath of Kirk’s assassination has led to a nationwide crackdown on campus expressions of hatred. At Texas Tech University, another student, 18-year-old Camryn Giselle Booker, was arrested and expelled after screaming, “F–k y’all, homie dead, he got shot in the head!” at a prayer vigil. Governor Abbott praised the move, tweeting, “This is what happened to the person who was mocking Charlie Kirk’s assassination at Texas Tech — FAFO [F–k Around and Find Out].” Across the country, professors, staff, and students have faced firings and suspensions for celebrating Kirk’s death online or in person. A New York Times report detailed a “broad wave of firings” following the assassination, noting that Kirk’s events often invited challenges but never violence.

In the days following his expulsion, Canty attempted to reframe the narrative. He launched a GoFundMe campaign, seeking $10,000 to “return to Texas State University after a difficult situation where I felt I had no choice but to leave for my safety.” In his plea, Canty claimed he was portrayed as an “out-of-control, disrespectful young Black man” and insisted, “I made a mistake in the heat of the moment. While I recognize that my actions weren’t perfect, I didn’t hurt anyone.” The campaign, supported by the Black Men United group on Instagram, accused the university of a “Mafia-style” ultimatum: withdraw or be expelled. They demanded Canty’s reinstatement and the expulsion of students who allegedly used racial slurs against him. As of this writing, the GoFundMe has raised over $5,000, drawing mixed reactions—some decrying it as rewarding bad behavior, others seeing it as a free speech issue.

Critics, including Democratic State Representative Gene Wu, have pushed back against the expulsion, arguing it infringes on First Amendment rights. Wu condemned the university’s actions, stating it sets a dangerous precedent for free speech on campuses. Legal experts, however, note that while public universities must balance free speech with campus safety, mocking violence can cross into harassment or disruption, justifying disciplinary measures. The Texas Tribune reported that Abbott’s involvement highlights ongoing tensions over free speech in Texas higher education, where conservative leaders have long accused campuses of liberal bias.

The incident has also spotlighted the toxic underbelly of political discourse in America. Social media platforms like X have been flooded with posts celebrating Kirk’s death, with hashtags like #CharlieKirk trending amid a mix of tributes and vitriol. Late-night host Jimmy Kimmel, returning to his show after a brief hiatus, teared up while addressing the assassination, saying, “The assassination of the conservative activist was not funny.” Even non-political figures, like ESPN hosts, have spoken out against the “vicious” messages celebrating the death, calling it a “real problem” in the U.S.

Yet, amid the darkness, Kirk’s legacy shines brighter. TPUSA has vowed to continue his work, with interim leaders announcing expanded campus tours and a “Charlie Kirk Memorial Fund” for free speech advocacy. Tributes have poured in from all corners: at Penn State football games, fans wore black armbands; in Utah, a statue is planned at the site of his death. Young conservatives, inspired by Kirk’s mantra of “debate, don’t hate,” are organizing more events, turning grief into action. As one TPUSA chapter president told me, “Charlie taught us to stand firm. This expulsion shows his fight against intolerance lives on.”

This episode at Texas State is more than a disciplinary action—it’s a cultural reckoning. In an era of escalating political violence, from attempts on Trump’s life to Kirk’s murder, society must draw lines. Canty’s expulsion affirms that while free speech is sacred, glorifying assassination is beyond the pale. It sends a message: hatred has no place, and disrespect will not be tolerated. Charlie Kirk’s memory stands firm, a beacon for those who believe in dialogue over division. His legacy, forged in fiery debates and unyielding principles, will endure, inspiring generations to honor truth over malice.

But let’s delve deeper into the man behind the movement. Kirk’s journey began in the suburbs of Chicago, where he skipped college to launch TPUSA from his parents’ garage. By 2016, he was a fixture at the Republican National Convention, rubbing shoulders with the GOP elite. His “Culture War” tours, often met with protests, highlighted issues like affirmative action and transgender rights, drawing crowds of thousands. Critics accused him of racism and misinformation—Google algorithms even flagged him as “hateful” in search results, a point raised in post-death analyses as contributing to the radicalization of his killer. Yet, Kirk’s defenders point to his outreach to minority communities, including Black and Hispanic conservatives, as evidence of his inclusivity.

The assassination itself has been dissected endlessly. Routh, the shooter, had a manifesto railing against “fascists” and posted online about targeting conservatives. His capture in a dramatic manhunt involved FBI tips from social media sleuths. Conspiracy theories abound, from deep-state involvement to media incitement, but official reports confirm it as a lone-wolf act fueled by ideological hatred.

At Texas State, the vigil was meant to heal, not divide. Attendees described a peaceful gathering until Canty’s intrusion. One student, speaking anonymously, said, “It was like a punch to the gut. We’re mourning a hero, and this guy turns it into a joke.” Canty’s background remains murky—he’s from Houston, active in campus social justice groups—but his actions have forever altered his path. His GoFundMe, while gaining traction among sympathizers, has faced backlash, with donors pulling support after learning details.

Broader implications ripple through academia. Universities, already navigating free speech battles, now face pressure to enforce codes against “hate speech” tied to violence. In Texas, where Abbott has championed conservative reforms, this could lead to stricter policies. Nationally, Kirk’s death has galvanized the right, with calls for “de-radicalization” programs and media accountability.

Personal stories humanize the loss. Kirk’s widow, Erika, has been accused baselessly of involvement in conspiracy theories, yet she’s channeled grief into advocacy, speaking at memorials about his faith and family. His proteges, like teen conservative Brilyn Hollyhand, continue his work, packing auditoriums on campus tours.

In the end, Canty’s expulsion is a victory for decency. It reminds us that while America thrives on debate, crossing into mockery of murder erodes our humanity. Charlie Kirk’s voice may be silenced, but his spirit roars on— a rallying cry against division, a shield for the next generation. Justice has been served, and his honored legacy ensures hatred will never prevail.