When Charlie Kirk Was Killed, Violence Was Condemned—When Renee Was Killed, MAGA Made Jokes. Why the Double Standard?

Who Deserves Mourning? Political Violence, Selective Empathy, and the Moral Test of Our Time

When violence claims a life, the first public response often reveals more about the living than about the dead. It exposes what a society is willing to grieve, whose suffering counts, and which deaths are granted dignity rather than suspicion. In the United States today, those distinctions increasingly follow partisan lines. The result is a corrosive moral inconsistency—one that transforms tragedy into ammunition and grief into ideology.

This inconsistency came sharply into focus in the contrasting reactions to the killing of Charlie Kirk and the fatal shooting of Renee Nicole Good. In one case, prominent Republican voices called for calm, insisting that “violence is not the answer.” In the other, corners of the MAGA-aligned internet responded with mockery, justification, and cruelty—suggesting that Renee “got what she deserved,” emphasizing alleged legal violations, and circulating jokes that stripped her of humanity.

The disparity is not simply about political affiliation. It is about who is afforded moral protection after death, and who is instead put on trial by strangers who never knew them.

The Selective Language of Condemnation

After the killing of Charlie Kirk, a well-known conservative activist and media figure, Republican leaders and commentators largely converged on a single message: political violence must be condemned unequivocally. Statements emphasized civility, rule of law, and the danger of escalating rhetoric. The framing was solemn and protective. Kirk was described as a human being, a son, a colleague, and a participant in democratic debate—someone whose death demanded restraint rather than exploitation.

That response was appropriate. No political disagreement justifies murder. No ideology makes a human life disposable.

But when Renee Nicole Good was killed—shot three times in the face during a law-enforcement encounter—much of that restraint evaporated in certain online spaces. Instead of mourning, there was rationalization. Instead of grief, there was derision. Instead of a shared condemnation of violence, there were arguments about legality, status, and worthiness.

The shift in tone was jarring. And it demands examination.

From Grief to Justification

In the aftermath of Renee’s death, social media filled with claims that she had been “breaking the law,” that she “deserved it,” that the shooting was inevitable or even justified. Some posts went further, turning her death into a punchline. These reactions did not wait for investigations to conclude or facts to be established. Judgment came first, empathy last—if at all.

This pattern is not new. In American discourse, certain victims are granted immediate sympathy, while others are subjected to posthumous prosecution. Their backgrounds are scrutinized, their character questioned, their humanity made conditional. The logic is familiar: if a victim can be framed as flawed, illegal, or oppositional, then violence against them becomes easier to rationalize.

What makes this moment particularly stark is the contrast. When the victim aligned ideologically with conservatives, the message was universal condemnation of violence. When the victim did not—when she was perceived as liberal, sympathetic to Black communities, or simply outside the cultural in-group—the moral calculus changed.

The Politics of Dehumanization

Dehumanization is rarely announced outright. It operates through implication, tone, and selective emphasis. In Renee’s case, the emphasis was on alleged wrongdoing rather than loss. On immigration status rather than family. On abstract legality rather than concrete humanity.

This is a familiar script. It has been used repeatedly in cases involving marginalized people, especially women, immigrants, and people of color. The underlying message is subtle but powerful: some lives require explanation before they can be mourned.

Once that framework is accepted, cruelty becomes permissible. Jokes can be made. Suffering can be minimized. Violence can be reframed as consequence rather than tragedy.

The moral danger here is not confined to one political faction. It reflects a broader erosion of ethical standards in public discourse—where empathy is distributed based on ideology, and death becomes a proxy battle in a culture war.

“Violence Is Not the Answer”—For Whom?

The phrase “violence is not the answer” is easy to say. It is much harder to apply consistently.

When conservatives invoked it after Charlie Kirk’s death, they were right. But moral principles lose their force when they are selectively applied. If violence is not the answer, then it is not the answer regardless of the victim’s politics, race, or immigration status. If murder is wrong, it is wrong even when the victim defended causes one disagrees with.

The reaction to Renee’s death suggests that for some, the principle is conditional. Violence is condemned when it threatens “our side,” but excused—or even celebrated—when it harms “the other.”

This double standard corrodes the very values it claims to defend.

The Role of Identity and Resentment

The claim that Renee’s treatment was influenced by the fact that she was not “a racist podcaster” but “a liberal who defended Black people” points to another uncomfortable truth: resentment plays a significant role in shaping public reactions to violence.

In polarized environments, individuals are often reduced to symbols. Renee was not just a woman who died; she was cast as a representative of political positions some despised. That symbolic framing made it easier to strip her of individuality and complexity. She became an “example” rather than a person.

This dynamic mirrors how public figures are often treated, but with a crucial difference: Renee was not a media personality or political operative. She was a private individual with a family, a history, and a life that existed long before she became the subject of online commentary.

The willingness to mock or justify her death reflects how far the boundaries of acceptable discourse have shifted.

Online Platforms and the Reward Structure of Cruelty

Social media amplifies extremes. Outrage, mockery, and provocation travel faster than nuance or compassion. Algorithms reward engagement, not integrity. In that environment, jokes about death and justifications for violence become performative acts—signals to an in-group that one is loyal, tough, and unbothered by the suffering of outsiders.

This reward structure encourages people to say things they might never say in person. It normalizes a level of cruelty that would once have been socially unacceptable. Over time, the shock wears off, and what once felt extreme becomes routine.

The danger is not just emotional harm to families, though that harm is real and lasting. It is the normalization of moral indifference—of treating death as content rather than consequence.

The Human Cost of Political Tribalism

Behind every viral post is a family reading in silence. Children who may one day search their parent’s name. Loved ones forced to encounter jokes about a death they are still struggling to comprehend.

Renee Nicole Good was not an abstraction. She was a mother. A daughter. A human being whose life cannot be reduced to a political talking point. When strangers declare that she “got what she deserved,” they are not making an argument; they are inflicting harm.

The same would be true if similar language were directed at Charlie Kirk or any other public figure. Political disagreement does not nullify human dignity.

A Test of Moral Consistency

Moments like these function as moral tests. They ask whether principles are truly principles—or merely slogans deployed when convenient.

Condemning violence only when it affects one’s own side is not a commitment to peace; it is a strategy of self-interest. Demanding empathy for one victim while denying it to another is not justice; it is tribalism.

If we believe that murder is wrong, we must believe it even when the victim’s views challenge our own. If we believe in human dignity, we must extend it beyond ideological boundaries.

Anything less is not morality. It is factional loyalty masquerading as ethics.

Reclaiming a Shared Standard

The United States is deeply divided, but it is not doomed to permanent moral incoherence. Reclaiming a shared standard does not require agreement on policy or ideology. It requires agreement on something more basic: that no one deserves to be killed, mocked, or dehumanized because of who they are or what they believe.

This standard must apply universally—or it applies to no one.

Political leaders, media figures, and ordinary citizens all play a role in reinforcing or eroding that baseline. Every post, every joke, every justification contributes to the moral climate in which future tragedies will be interpreted.

Conclusion: Who We Become in the Aftermath

The question raised by the contrasting reactions to Charlie Kirk’s death and Renee Nicole Good’s killing is not ultimately about MAGA or liberals, conservatives or progressives. It is about who we choose to be when confronted with irreversible loss.

Do we respond with empathy, even when it is uncomfortable?
Do we uphold principles, even when they protect people we disagree with?
Or do we allow resentment and ideology to determine whose lives are mourned and whose deaths are excused?

Violence is not the answer—if we mean it. Human dignity is not conditional—if we believe it. The measure of a society is not how it treats its heroes, but how it treats its dead—especially those who cannot be claimed as symbols of our own righteousness.

In that sense, the reaction to Renee’s death is not just a failure of compassion. It is a warning. And what we do with that warning will shape the moral character of our public life long after the arguments have faded.