When Hatred Becomes Policy: The Celebration of Political Assassination in Illinois

In the Land of Lincoln, voices entrusted to heal, teach, and lead are celebrating death—and a state remains silent

By Editor | September 14, 2025

It began with a single social media post.

In Springfield, the capital of Illinois, the words glowed on screens across the city:

“This is the dick that spreads love? Lmoa f...ing loser look at him now! I am seeing all the maggots saying he spread love in his speeches?? No wonder Hillary called those idiots deplorable. Pathetic!” – Springfield city employee

The author was no faceless agitator. He was the Director of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, a man reportedly earning over $70,000 a year from the very taxpayers he derided. His duty was to foster understanding. Instead, he rejoiced at assassination and sneered at Springfield citizens as “maggots.”

That moment revealed something larger, something darker: a sickness running through the institutions of Illinois. Professors. Teachers. Healthcare workers. Recruiters. Even mayors. People entrusted to heal, to teach, to lead—people paid by the public—were celebrating political murder.

And those in power, instead of responding with clarity and courage, offered silence, hesitation, or complicity.

Springfield’s Shame

Springfield—the resting place of Abraham Lincoln—should symbolize unity. Instead, it now stands as a warning.

The DEI director’s words mocked not just a murdered activist but the very idea of decency in public life. Yet Mayor Misty Buscher’s response was striking in its weakness. She issued a vague condemnation but refused even to name Charlie Kirk. As outrage spread, reports surfaced that the employee may be allowed to resign quietly—keeping his pension and benefits.

“When a taxpayer-funded official spits on the people he serves and cheers the murder of an American, resignation is not justice. Resignation is a reward.”

The Cost of Weakness

• DEI Director Salary: $70,000+

• Benefits: Full health and retirement pension

• Accountability Taken: None to date

Academia’s Rot

From city hall, the rot stretches into academia. At Illinois universities, professors—paid with tax dollars and tuition alike—publicly mocked Kirk’s death. One called it “justice served.” Another ridiculed prayers for his family.

These are not fringe voices. They are the men and women grading papers, guiding careers, shaping futures. If a professor can openly laugh at a political assassination, how can conservative students trust their education—or their safety?

Academia’s Double Standard

• After George Floyd: Faculty questioning BLM punished

• After Charlie Kirk: Faculty celebrating his death unpunished

• Lesson: Violence against conservatives is tolerated

The Classroom Poison

Perhaps the most heartbreaking betrayal of all is unfolding not in city hall or universities, but in the classrooms where Illinois’ children spend their days. The very people entrusted to shape young minds are planting seeds of hatred instead of knowledge.

In Springfield, one teacher boasted online about forcing her own children to chant anti-Trump slogans before sending them off to school. Imagine it: breakfast plates still on the table, backpacks slung over shoulders, and before they can walk out the door, they are required to rehearse their hatred for a president. Those same children then take their seats in classrooms, where their mother teaches other people’s children.

Another teacher told her class flatly that “Republicans are racists” and “people like Charlie Kirk deserve what they get.” These words were not whispered in private, not muttered behind closed doors—they were spoken in front of children whose minds are still forming, whose sense of right and wrong is still fragile.

“If they teach their own children to hate President Trump at home, what do you think they are teaching your children in the classroom?”

This is not civics. It is not history. It is not education. It is indoctrination—weaponized through authority and imposed on impressionable minds who trust their teachers.

Parents send their children to school believing they are safe, believing they will learn math, science, literature, and respect for others. Instead, in too many Illinois classrooms, they are learning bitterness, prejudice, and political tribalism. They are learning that violence is excusable when it is aimed at the “other side.”

And here lies the gravest danger: children do not question as adults do. When a teacher tells them hate is justified, they absorb it. When a teacher tells them that some people deserve death, they believe it. What begins as a sneer in a Facebook post becomes a lesson that shapes the future of Illinois.

These are taxpayer-funded classrooms. The salaries of these teachers—averaging $72,422 a year, with some districts paying over $100,000—are paid by parents who are unknowingly financing the poisoning of their own children’s education.

What happens to a state when its children are taught not to think, but to hate? What happens when tomorrow’s voters, leaders, and neighbors grow up believing their political opponents are not fellow citizens but enemies to be despised?

Illinois is not just losing its schools. It is losing its future.

The Price of Indoctrination

• Average Illinois Teacher Salary: $72,422 (2024)

• Top Suburban Districts: $100,000+

• Lesson Delivered: Politics over education

• Cost: The hearts and minds of Illinois’ children

Healthcare Workers Betraying Their Oath

Perhaps the most jarring of all: healthcare workers, the very people trained to preserve life, joined the chorus.

Illinois nurses and hospital staff—licensed, salaried, and entrusted with compassion—were caught mocking Kirk’s assassination online. Some sneered that “more should follow.”

“If a nurse can cheer assassination online, what will she say at the bedside of a conservative patient?”

Hospitals have remained silent. No firings. No assurances. And with every day of silence, public trust in medicine erodes further.

The Oath Betrayed

• Duty: Heal, protect, preserve life

• Reality: Healthcare staff mocking assassination

• Accountability: None to date

• Public Question: Can patients trust their care?

A Visa Holder’s Celebration

The outrage did not stop at Illinois citizens. Serena Luciano, a student from Argentina on a visa, employed as a college recruiter for the University of Illinois at Chicago while pursuing her master’s degree in Urban Higher Education, declared:

“Just came on here to say Charlie Kirk can rest is f...ing piss and yet again if you have any empathy at all for people like this you can go ahead and remove yourself as my friend. I do not give a F... about the death.” – Serena Luciano

Her words stunned many. This is not a private individual shouting from the sidelines. This is a foreign national working within one of Illinois’ premier universities, representing it to prospective students, all while enjoying the privileges of an American education system.

Yet the University of Illinois at Chicago has said nothing. No condemnation. No disciplinary action. No public statement assuring taxpayers and parents that the institution will not tolerate employees celebrating political assassination. Silence, once again, speaks volumes.

And the hypocrisy could not be more glaring. In recent years, Illinois universities have suspended conservative student groups for inviting controversial speakers. They have launched investigations into faculty members who expressed skepticism of progressive orthodoxy. They have swiftly denounced anyone who strayed even slightly from the “approved” narrative.

But when one of their own recruiters mocks the death of a conservative and cheers political violence? Nothing. Not even a whisper.

For many Illinoisans, the question is simple: why should someone who glorifies political murder be allowed to work in higher education in America, let alone at a taxpayer-supported public university?

UIC’s Silence

• Employer: University of Illinois at Chicago (public, taxpayer-funded)

• Role: College recruiter, student visa holder

• Statement Issued: None

• Disciplinary Action: None

• Past University Actions: Conservatives punished for far less

• Public Outrage: Growing calls for visa revocation and termination

Leaders Who Normalize Hatred

Leadership has failed at every level. Aurora Mayor John Laesch openly refused to lower flags in honor of Charlie Kirk’s death, despite a direct order from the President of the United States. The refusal was not rooted in protocol—it was rooted in politics.

This same mayor had no hesitation lowering flags for George Floyd. He had no hesitation invoking compassion for other figures. Yet when it came to Kirk, he withheld even the smallest gesture of public mourning: lowering cloth on a pole.

In Aurora, that decision reverberated. Flags that might have flown at half-staff stood tall at full height, a silent but unmistakable rebuke. The message was clear: the life of a conservative activist was worth less than the politics of the moment.

In refusing to lower those flags, Mayor Laesch sent a signal—not just to Aurora, but to Illinois—that honoring the death of a political opponent was optional, that empathy was selective, that human dignity itself could be rationed.

The People’s Hatred

It wasn’t only officials. Across Illinois, ordinary citizens joined in, their words darker than any flag at full staff.

One chilling example came from a woman identified as Raven S., who posted:

“Can Erka Kirk be next? Then the two children can be placed with foster parents who will have them properly educated and growing up hating their parents.” – Raven S.

This was not just an attack on a man who had already been murdered. It was a call for the death of his widow. It was an attack on his children—two innocents, still grieving, whose only crime was being born to the “wrong” parents.

The suggestion that these children be taken from their home and “properly educated” speaks volumes. It is not simply about political rivalry. It is about erasing families, reprogramming children, and remaking society in the image of hate.

What Raven S. typed in a moment of cruelty is the logical endpoint of the rot now infecting Illinois politics. When assassination is cheered, when children of the murdered are treated as pawns, when calls for re-education echo like dystopian warnings—it is no longer about party. It is about civilization itself.

This is not politics. This is depravity.

The Party of Violence

There was a time when the Democratic Party styled itself as the party of compassion, tolerance, and unity. It claimed the moral high ground in American politics. But in Illinois, that ground has eroded into quicksand.

Today, Democrats may insist most of them are decent, hardworking, and peace-loving—and that is true. But they are no longer the ones steering their party. The helm has been seized by radicals who excuse riots, justify vandalism, and now openly celebrate assassination.

The contrast is glaring. When George Floyd was killed in 2020, Minnesota exploded in riots. Cities burned, businesses were looted, and neighborhoods were scarred by violence carried out in the name of justice. By contrast, when Charlie Kirk was assassinated in Utah, the response was candlelight vigils, peaceful gatherings, and moments of unity. People came together not to destroy, but to grieve and to honor.

Illinois, when confronted with Kirk’s murder, did not follow Utah’s path of peace. Instead, too many voices in its institutions chose the path of Minnesota—excusing hate, normalizing division, and even celebrating death.

Now, the very institutions that once served as cornerstones of civil society—universities, schools, city offices, even hospitals—are being wielded as political weapons. Professors mock the dead. Teachers indoctrinate children. Healthcare workers, sworn to heal, cheer death. City directors, funded by taxpayers, spit on those who pay their salaries.

“If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher.” – Abraham Lincoln

And at the top, Democratic mayors like John Laesch model selective empathy, lowering flags for George Floyd but not for a conservative assassinated in cold blood. The message is unmistakable: some lives are worthy of mourning; others are expendable.

History offers grim warnings about this path. In the 1830s, a young Abraham Lincoln—living right here in Illinois—warned about the rise of mob violence. In his famous Lyceum Address, he cautioned that if lawless mobs were allowed to dictate justice, America would crumble not from outside invasion, but from within.

We saw the same in the 1970s, when the Weather Underground, born out of far-left politics, justified bombings and violence in the name of justice. They told themselves they were fighting oppression, but their legacy is one of terror.

When a political party tolerates this level of depravity—when its leaders refuse to condemn it in strong and unequivocal terms, when its institutions normalize it—that party ceases to be a political movement. It becomes a machine of violence.

Illinois Democrats have crossed that line. And while many good Democrats remain, their voices are drowned in a rising tide of rage. If they do not retake control, their party will be defined not by its policies, but by its celebration of death.

Democratic Extremism in Illinois

• Far-left DEI programs dominate city hiring

• Universities shield radical faculty

• Mayors refuse to honor murdered conservatives

• Result: Hatred institutionalized

Republican Weakness

But Republicans cannot wash their hands. Springfield’s GOP mayor, Misty Buscher, promised strength, accountability, and moral clarity. Voters placed their trust in her not because they expected perfection, but because they longed for courage. They hoped a Republican in city hall would stand up to the rot that had spread across Illinois.

Instead, they have been met with silence and hesitation. When the DEI director called her own constituents “maggots” and mocked the assassination of a conservative leader, Buscher had every opportunity to act swiftly. She could have fired him on the spot. She could have used her office to draw a bright red line against hatred. She could have sent a message to Springfield, to Illinois, and to America that this city would not tolerate celebrating political violence.

She did none of it.

Worse still, in her public condemnation of the employee’s vile remarks, she could not even bring herself to say Charlie Kirk’s name. She distanced herself from the victim, as though speaking his name might tarnish her politically. But leadership is not about calculation—it is about clarity. And in that moment, clarity demanded not silence, not euphemism, but truth.

“Springfield voters hoped for courage. What they got was weakness.”

In her indecision, Buscher did more than fail her city. She reinforced the perception that Republicans in Illinois are not fighters but caretakers—managers of decline rather than champions of renewal. For years, conservatives in this state have prayed for leaders with backbone. And yet, time and again, those who campaign as bold reformers too often govern as cautious bureaucrats.

The result is a growing despair among Republican voters. They ask themselves: If our own leaders will not defend us when an assassination is mocked, if they will not defend the dignity of our murdered, what will they defend?

The weakness is not merely political. It is moral. True leadership is not about waiting for the wind to change—it is about setting a course when the storm is fiercest. It is about protecting the people you serve, even when it costs you. Illinois Republicans have yet to show they understand this.

And the warning is clear: if Republicans cannot summon the courage to act, they will be judged alongside those who openly celebrate violence. Inaction in the face of evil is complicity. Silence in the presence of depravity is surrender.

Illinois does not need more caretakers. It needs leaders with courage. Leaders who will not hesitate. Leaders who understand that when civilization itself is tested, delay is defeat.

And if neither party is willing to provide that courage—if Democrats excuse violence and Republicans refuse to confront it—then the only remedy left lies with the people themselves. At the ballot box, voters have the power to sweep aside weakness, to replace cowardice with conviction, and to demand leaders who will defend decency without apology.

The Ballot Box: The Final Word

Charlie Kirk understood this better than most. Every time he stepped onto a campus, he invited not his supporters, but his critics, to the microphone first. He asked those who disagreed with him to speak, face to face, in front of thousands. He knew the risks of sitting in that exposed chair, surrounded by anger, by hostility, sometimes by threats. And yet, he did it anyway. Why? Because he believed in communication. Because he believed in courage. Because he believed that truth could withstand the test of open confrontation.

Time and again, those exchanges proved his point. While many arrived determined to shout him down, Kirk’s persistence in listening, answering, and reasoning broke through walls. He got people to think. He got people to understand. And in many cases, he earned not just respect but agreement—even support for the values he defended. That success was his true power. And that success is precisely why the far left felt threatened, why they hated him, and why they celebrated when he was killed.

Kirk’s example stands in stark contrast to what we see in Illinois today. City officials who mock their own citizens. Teachers who turn classrooms into ideological battlegrounds. Healthcare workers who sneer at death instead of preserving life. Mayors who ration empathy. Universities that punish dissent but remain silent when their own celebrate assassination. These are institutions built on trust, now corroded by hate.

As Maya Angelou once said: “Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can’t practice any other virtue consistently.” Kirk lived that courage. He practiced it openly, even when it put him in danger.

But what he faced in return was not courage — it was hate. The same hate that now echoes in Springfield, in classrooms, in hospitals, and across social media. The same hate that celebrates death and mocks the grieving.

And it is here that Angelou’s warning strikes with full force: “Hate, it has caused a lot of problems in the world, but has not solved one yet.”

Illinois now stands at a crossroads. It can continue down the path of silence, weakness, and hate—or it can reclaim its moral clarity. The ballot box remains the sharpest scalpel to cut away corruption, to punish cowardice as surely as depravity, to demand leaders who will defend decency without apology.

Abraham Lincoln warned nearly two centuries ago that a house divided against itself cannot stand. Today, in the state he once led, that house is shaking. The test is here. The question is whether the people of Illinois will allow it to collapse—or whether, like Kirk, they will find the courage to rise, to speak, and to rebuild their state on the foundation of truth.

Editor’s Note

Illinois has reached a moral breaking point. What we have documented here is not just politics, but a collapse of decency: city leaders who mock their citizens, educators who poison classrooms, healthcare workers who sneer at death, and institutions that protect those who glorify violence.

Change will not come from silence. It will not come from waiting on weak leaders or institutions too compromised to act. It must come from you — the voter.

At the ballot box, you hold the power to say enough. To strip authority from those who excuse hatred, to punish both the depraved and the cowardly, and to reclaim Illinois for courage, truth, and life.

This upcoming election, your vote is not just another mark on a ballot. It is your answer to whether Illinois will remain captive to hate — or whether it will rise again, worthy of the legacy of Lincoln.