Why We Drove 1,005 Miles to Attend Charlie Kirk’s Memorial

By David Tubman / New Braunfels, Texas

Judy and I waited more than seven hours in the crowd to enter the stadium

My wife Judy and I just returned from attending the Charlie Kirk funeral-memorial service in Glendale, Ariz. on Sunday, Sept. 21. It was a 1,005-mile drive each way from our home in Texas—15 hours on the road, sleeping in rest stops and the cheapest motel we could find.

When Judy first suggested that we go, I balked at the thought of fighting 70,000 others for seats in State Farm Stadium. Better to watch it on a screen here at home. Every channel and social media site were on the subject. I knew there would be huge crowds, along with the thought of making a 2,000-mile round trip so soon after our five-week road trip of 7,000 miles this summer. I thought about the cost of gas and lodging. It just wasn’t appealing to me.

Well, after about 20 minutes of thinking it through, I remembered Judy’s initial tearful reaction to the news on Sept. 10th, “Charlie Kirk was shot!” Then 30 minutes later, she began crying openly, “Charlie’s dead!” I saw that people were already reacting on social media sites, and for the most part, were sympathetic.

However, a few dark comments were also posted. “Charlie Kirk deserved what he got.” Then I became incensed. That’s not what free speech is supposed to be about. Have we reached a point of moral decay in our society, where we have become more callous about the sanctity of human life and the rights and freedom we all deserve?

You don’t have to like the messenger. You’re free to walk away from the soapbox. But you don’t get to burn it down. Charlie Kirk understood that. He showed up, even when it was risky. He believed in dialogue, not destruction. And he died for that belief.

I reconsidered.

An outpouring of support for Charlie Kirk at his organization Turning Point USA's headquarters in Phoenix, Ariz.

I wasn’t an avid follower of Charlie, but on some occasions, I watched his show online. Judy watched his show regularly. I’ve always respected his courage. Since he was 18, Charlie has showed up on college campuses, even amid bomb threats and student protests. Would I have done that? I’ll be honest–hell no. I’m ashamed to admit that fear would win out over courage. But Charlie demonstrated that he had guts. At 17, he launched Turning Point USA, a nonprofit that advocates for conservative causes, with no money, no credentials—just conviction. His first campus table bore a bumper sticker: BIG GOVERNMENT SUCKS. I agree. That applies to both sides, all parties, every administration.

Charlie was pro-American, a patriot, and also a Christian. If someone wanted to challenge him, his tent bore a banner overhead that said, “Prove me wrong” and a microphone on a stand for anyone to speak openly or ask questions. His favorite statement was: “When open dialogue ceases—violence results.” Charlie wanted to make a positive difference in the lives of young men in America. He desired that they learned how to become better husbands, fathers, and more productive individuals.

I thought, if Charlie Kirk died for my right to free speech, I was willing to do whatever it took to attend his funeral.

The day before the event, we visited the memorial in front of the Turning Point headquarters in Phoenix, Ariz. It was about as long as a football field and restored after someone had trampled through the middle of it a few days before. There were a few folding tables off to the side displaying FREEDOM and CHARLIE KIRK T-shirts available for sale.

On the morning of the event, Judy and I woke at 2 am and drove to the stadium, where we were met by thousands of others already gathered around all sides of the stadium. There was no sign of organized crowd control, so people stood in large groups. Some had folding deck chairs while others sat on the ground. The crowds shifted left, then right, trying to determine which entry gate would open first. However, that wouldn’t be until 7:00 am.  The doors to the stadium wouldn’t open till 9 o’clock.

People were cooperative, but after so many hours, we were getting closer to the stadium entrance  and a few tired individuals started to get mad with some who cut into the lines ahead of us. They let loose some words you don’t usually hear at church or a funeral. I was being shoved from behind and let the women pushing me know that there was nowhere I could go and just be patient: "We’ll all get inside." Finally, we filed one at a time through the TSA security lines, only to discover with frustration that after all the hours we had spent waiting, it was already packed.

We checked in by phone with Judy’s brother Mark. He had driven for five hours from California and had a couple of seats open near him, so we joined him, after not seeing him for years. Whew! We all sat in the center, but it was way in the back. The people on the stage were like tiny ants. There were large display screens, so we could see who was there.

After many hours in line, we finally made it inside of State Farm Stadium, where the memorial was held

The memorial was slated to begin at 11 am, and it was only a little after 9 am, so the waiting time was filled with Christian musicians. So far, it was a church service attended by 70,000 people, with the arena next door and other nearby locations accommodating another 20,000. Our eyes had closed a bit by now. “The food lines are a mile long, so we’ll wait and eat tonight.”

The stage had bulletproof panels at the center in front of the speaker’s podium. The stadium floor in front of us was filled with white folding chairs for the VIP non-speaking special guests. We recognized some as they wandered about the floor area before the service: conservative talk-show host Glenn Beck, Democratic Sen. John Fetterman, various cabinet members and some evangelical personalities. In the bulletproof private boxes, President Trump and Melania, Vice President Vance, and other speakers were seated. At one point, Elon Musk came and sat down next to Trump, and they shook hands.   

Erika Kirk, Charlie's widow, and President Trump on the huge display screen

Speaker after speaker gave brief talks about how they knew Charlie Kirk and shared stories of how he had affected their lives. As it got closer to Erika Kirk's turn, we were overcome with emotion. Eriika wiped away tears throughout, but she held her stance and spoke fluidly about what Charlie meant to her and their two children.

But she had something else she knew she had to do Near the close of her message, she said:

“My husband, Charlie, he wanted to save young men just like the one who took his life. That young man. That young man on the cross, our Savior said, ‘Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.’ That man, that young man, I forgive him. I forgive him because it was what Christ did, and is what Charlie would do,”

Tears rolled down her cheeks openly as she said the words. But I know myself; even when the other person hasn’t asked for it, and I forgave, I was the one who was able to set aside the anger and bitterness I had inside me, and I found peace in the process.

The trip, the funeral, and the memorial were events that Judy and I will remember as historical. An experience that has become a turning point in our lives.

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David Tubman, a former Michigander (Detroit and Oak Park), moved to the West Coast in 1976 and is now living in New Braunfels, Texas. His newfound passions are writing and podcasting. To date, David has self-published two nonfiction books about Detroit’s infamous cold case: Jimmy Hoffa Is Missing–The Gap (2020) and Jimmy Hoffa Is Missing–Beyond The Gap (September 2025). He is a respected independent researcher in the disappearance of Hoffa. David now hosts two social media sites: “JHIMTG” and “Poly-Ticks & Faith.” The other passion has led David to begin a podcast called “Poly-Ticks & Faith.” He feels there is overwhelming stress associated with our national political culture, and he wants to help by talking people down from the ledge. Topics he has covered include “When Did Science Become Politics?” and “Who Are The Real Jews?”