The Martyr, the Builder, and the Cop
How the legacy press covered two very different public deaths
Note to the Reader
Sometimes it’s best to put things down as plainly as possible — minimal verbiage, maximum forward motion.
We all know what happened in 2020 with George Floyd. We all know what happened in September 2025 with Charlie Kirk. And here’s what bothers me: why were these two deaths handled so completely differently by the legacy media?
Why, in one case, did the press egg on riots, violence, and chaos — while in the other, they all but ignored peaceful vigils and celebrations of life? Why did the coverage glorify a man with a criminal past while burying the achievements of a leader whose life was devoted to building?
One man built, the other destroyed. One lifted, the other preyed. You’d think the coverage would reflect that. Instead, the press pretended the differences didn’t exist.
We all feel this contrast. We haven’t fully come to terms with it. But we need to. Because what we are watching isn’t journalism. It’s narrative maintenance. And it is evil.
The Martyr, the Builder, and the Cop
George Floyd was no saint. He was a man with a long rap sheet: armed robbery, drug dealing, multiple stints in prison. His most infamous crime was shoving a pistol into the belly of a pregnant woman. By 2020, he lived in and by the drug trade. On the day of his death, he was passing counterfeit bills, high on fentanyl and methamphetamine, and resisting arrest. His life was a cycle of crime and addiction — the opposite of a role model.
Charlie Kirk was the mirror opposite. He founded Turning Point USA, a Christian and political movement that gave a generation of conservative youth a home. He was a family man, a devoted husband and father. People said of him, “He could have been president one day.” He wasn’t perfect, but he was a builder — lifting others, creating institutions, and living out his principles in public.
Floyd’s death came during a chaotic street arrest. His body was already in collapse, and when the struggle ended, the cameras rolled. Significantly, Derek Chauvin, the officer tasked with controlling the crime scene, was found guilty of murder — though he had followed department standards. He became the villain America needed to sanctify its new martyr.
Kirk’s death was something else entirely. He was assassinated in public, targeted precisely because of who he was and what he represented. There was no ambiguity, no toxic mix of drugs and resistance. He was gunned down for being a leader of faith and conviction.
The aftermaths tell the story. After Floyd, America burned. Cities were torched, stores looted, monuments toppled, police ambushed. At least twenty people died, hundreds of officers were injured, and billions in damage scarred neighborhoods for years. Anchors stood in front of burning buildings and called it “mostly peaceful.”
After Kirk, America prayed. Candles, hymns, vigils. No smashed storefronts. No mobs. No cities in flames. His followers mourned with peace, not fire.
And here’s the pivot — the part that makes the whole narrative collapse under its own weight. The Left lied upward for Floyd, burying his crimes and canonizing him as a saint. They lied downward for Kirk, mocking and erasing a man whose life was plainly worthy of respect. And to keep the myth airtight, they destroyed Chauvin, who by every account did his job according to training but happened to be the cop unlucky enough to be there that day. Many Americans feel strongly that he got a raw deal. All George had to do was go along with the arrest and none of it would have happened.
That’s the truth the media can’t touch. One side manufactured sainthood for a thug, denied dignity to a builder, and crucified a cop — all to preserve the storyline.
The legacy press calls this justice. In reality, it’s narrative management. And it is disgusting
Bob: “Floyd got murals. Kirk got silence. Chauvin got prison. That’s not justice — that’s propaganda with a pulse.”