In a moment that was supposed to be about healing and accountability, the CBS Town Hall featuring Erica Kirk descended into a frustrating display of political evasion that has left viewers and analysts questioning the sincerity of the modern conservative movement’s call for unity.

The setting was somber, the stakes were incredibly high, and the questioner had a moral authority that few could claim. Hunter Kak, a student from Utah Valley University, was not just an observer; he was the last person to speak to Charlie Kirk before the tragic assassination took place. Bearing the scars of that day, Hunter stood up to ask Erica Kirk a question that cut through the noise of partisan bickering and aimed directly at the source of the rising political temperature in America.

Hunter’s inquiry was meticulously crafted and undeniably fair. He began by acknowledging his own horror at those on the left who had celebrated Charlie’s death, condemning them unequivocally. He then pivoted to the other side of the equation, pointing out that political violence does not exist in a vacuum.

He cited specific, chilling examples of Donald Trump’s rhetoric, noting that the former President and current candidate had recently called for democratic lawmakers to be tried for sedition and punished by death, and had reposted messages simply saying “Hang them.” Hunter’s question was the definition of a softball for anyone truly interested in peace: “Will you condemn the violent rhetoric of Donald Trump, the most powerful and influential person on earth?”

What followed was a response that can only be described as a masterclass in PR deflection, a non-sequitur so jarring it seemed to suck the air out of the room. Instead of addressing the former President’s calls for executions or his dehumanizing language, Erica Kirk pivoted entirely to the domestic sphere. She spoke about “seeds of evil” starting in the home.

She lectured parents about taking responsibility for their children. In a line that has since ignited a firestorm of criticism online, she seemingly blamed the radicalization of youth on parents who are “trying to go to Pilates class” and handing their kids iPads to keep them quiet.

This response fundamentally misunderstood—or perhaps intentionally ignored—the core of Hunter’s question. Hunter was asking about “top-down” radicalization. He was highlighting the unique and dangerous power that leaders possess. When a figure like Donald Trump, who commands the loyalty of millions, uses his platform to call opponents “vermin,” “gnats,” or suggests they should be executed, he is effectively granting permission for his followers to view their neighbors not as political rivals, but as existential enemies. Trump holds what some analysts call a “monopoly on the escalation of political rhetoric.” He sets the tone, and the base follows.

By shifting the blame to “bottom-up” radicalization—the idea that bad parenting and unchecked internet access are the primary culprits—Erica Kirk engaged in a dangerous form of minimization. While it is true that parenting and technology play a role in shaping young minds, they cannot compete with the normalizing force of a President’s words. A parent can teach their child to be kind, but if that child turns 18 and sees the leader of the free world calling for the hanging of dissidents, the message of the parent is neutralized. The authority of the President supersedes the authority of the household in the public square.

The implications of Erica’s answer are profound. It suggests a refusal within the highest levels of the Turning Point USA leadership to police their own side. While they are quick to demand that Democrats denounce random activists on social media, they appear incapable of holding the leader of their party to the same standard. This double standard creates a permission structure for violence. If the rhetoric of “hanging” opponents is not condemned by the widow of a political assassination victim, then it is tacitly accepted as part of the political game.

Furthermore, the specific example of the “Pilates class” felt painfully out of touch with the reality of the crisis. To suggest that a mother taking an hour for herself is somehow complicit in the creation of an assassin, while refusing to name the man who literally amplifies calls for violence to millions of followers, is a staggering abdication of moral leadership. It places the burden of solving a national crisis on individual, struggling families while absolving the powerful billionaires and politicians who profit from the rage.

The “Tyler Robinson” factor—the alleged shooter who was radicalized online—was the hook Erica used to pivot to technology. But again, this ignores the content of that radicalization. People do not get radicalized by the internet itself; they get radicalized by the voices on the internet.

If the loudest voice is Donald Trump spreading lies about stolen elections or demonizing journalists, then the internet is merely the delivery system for his poison. Blaming the iPad for the message is like blaming the mailman for a letter bomb.

Ultimately, the interaction between Hunter Kak and Erica Kirk was a missed opportunity for a genuine moment of cross-partisan unity. Hunter offered an olive branch, a chance to say, “Yes, calls for violence are wrong, no matter who they come from.” Erica chose instead to protect the political alliance with Trump at the expense of the truth.

It was a reminder that for many in the current political climate, protecting the “King” is more important than protecting the country from the flames he is stoking. The silence regarding Trump’s rhetoric speaks louder than any lecture on parenting ever could.