Andrew Kolvet on Charlie Kirk's Assassination, Candace Owens Conspiracy Theories, and the Future of Conservative Movement

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Andrew Kolvet on Charlie Kirk's Assassination, Candace Owens Conspiracy Theories, and the Future of Conservative Movement

Andrew Kolvet, Charlie Kirk's close confidant and current host of The Charlie Kirk Show, opens up about the assassination that shook American conservatism. Since Kirk's murder at a campus event, the conservative movement has fractured into infighting, with Candace Owens leading a daily conspiracy theory campaign implicating Israel and Kirk's own team in his death. Kolvet discusses Kirk's evolution on immigration and Israel, the struggle to define his legacy, and whether Christian principles or Trumpian combativeness will shape the future of the right. He reveals the deep divisions over Israel, the surprising unity on immigration, and what populist conservatism actually wants in the post-Trump era.

Categories: Analysis
December 11, 2025

The Day Charlie Kirk Was Killed

Andrew Kolvet was at his desk, preparing for another day of producing The Charlie Kirk Show, when the call came. A team member's desperate voice cut through: "They shot Charlie. They shot Charlie." Just 33 minutes earlier, Kolvet had been texting with Kirk about talking points on monogamy for an upcoming Utah event. Now, shell-shocked and overwhelmed by thousands of texts and calls from reporters seeking confirmation, Kolvet watched helplessly as one of his closest friends and the architect of modern youth conservatism died from gunshot wounds sustained at a campus event.

"I saw the video in the immediate aftermath because I wanted to know if he could survive," Kolvet recalls. "And yeah, I saw the video and immediately regretted seeing it." He has worked hard since to ensure Kirk's widow, Erika, never sees the footage that captured her husband's final moments.

The assassination transformed Kolvet from executive producer to reluctant steward of Kirk's mission. When Erika looked at him in the aftermath and said, "They will not silence my husband's voice. You have to keep the show going," there was no question what he had to do. Now hosting The Charlie Kirk Show while helping lead Turning Point USA, Kolvet finds himself at the center of a struggle to define both Kirk's legacy and the future direction of American conservatism.

From Hollywood to Conservative Media

Kolvet's path to becoming Kirk's right-hand man began in an unlikely place: Hollywood. Working with Mark Burnett on shows like "The Voice," "Celebrity Apprentice," and "Survivor," Kolvet dreamed of writing screenplays. When Burnett's chief of staff, Johnnie Moore, started a PR company and asked Kolvet to help launch it, he initially refused, wanting to focus on his creative ambitions.

"I kind of refused," Kolvet remembers. "And then he said, 'Why don't you just work a couple days a week, help me get this thing off the ground, and then you can do your own thing?'" That part-time gig evolved into bringing on conservative clients like PragerU and The Blaze. When Charlie Kirk crossed paths with Moore at a Southern Florida event, Moore reached out to the young conservative activist.

Kirk initially ghosted Kolvet's outreach attempts. But after a news story that Kirk tried to handle himself "didn't go so well and blew up," he called. After about a year working with Kirk through the agency, Kirk made Kolvet an offer: "Hey, I like you, I'll hire you, I'll be your first client. And I also want to start a podcast, and I want you to help me do that." In May 2019, they launched what would become one of the most influential conservative podcasts in America.

The Infrastructure Charlie Kirk Built

Many people have a hazy understanding of what Turning Point USA actually is—perhaps thinking of it as simply a campus conservative group or an alternative to Young Republicans. But by the mid-2020s, Kirk had built something far more extensive and influential than most outsiders realized.

"At its core, Turning Point is this campus activism," Kolvet explains. "There is a felt need, and I think a very real need for conservatives on campus that are contending with whether that be professors or other student groups. They feel isolated, they feel alone." The organization established chapters on campuses across the country, serving as convening points for conservative-minded students to meet and discuss ideas.

But around that beating heart grew a massive infrastructure: a productions team creating content and documentaries, a robust social media operation, a political arm, a whole reporting wing, and The Charlie Kirk Show providing a daily drumbeat. "We're talking hundreds of thousands of students across the country at these campuses," Kolvet notes. There was also TPUSA Faith, founded during COVID when Kirk refused to accept that churches would simply "roll over" and accept restrictions on worship.

Beyond the visible infrastructure, Kirk maintained something equally important: relationships. "The guy was an avid texter and emailer and phone caller, and so he was also working relationships behind the scenes constantly and ironing out differences or bridging divides," Kolvet says. This relational work—keeping different factions talking, maintaining connections across the conservative movement—would prove desperately important after his death.

Did Security Fail Charlie Kirk?

In the aftermath, many have asked whether the danger was foreseeable. Kolvet acknowledges the question haunts him: "Everybody plays this mind game after the fact. Did we have premonitions about it? And you have these thoughts that run through your head and you try and put them down because you don't want to live in fear."

Kirk traveled with a full security detail, and Turning Point spent significant resources on protection. "By the time he was killed, the security system and mechanisms and the team members that we had around him were very robust," Kolvet insists. But there was a critical vulnerability: campus events relied on local or campus police for perimeter security, while Kirk's personal detail only controlled his immediate 30-yard proximity.

"So much of the safety or lack thereof is contingent on the precautions that they put in place and the plan that they have in place. And some of that is beyond the control," Kolvet explains. "If you want to do an event on campus, those are the rules."

Despite the precautions, Kolvet wasn't scared—he was watching Charlie refuse to live in fear. He does remember a moment, about a month or six weeks before the assassination, when Kirk visited and "just got mobbed. Selfie, selfie, selfie, selfie." Kolvet thought to himself: "You're really famous now."

Candace Owens and the Conspiracy Theory Industrial Complex

In the chaos following Kirk's murder, Kolvet reached out to Candace Owens, who he'd known since around 2019. She had been part of the Turning Point ecosystem before growing her own platform, and Kolvet assumed she was simply a grieving friend. "She was obviously distraught," he recalls. "And I felt for her. I knew I had no foresight that it was going to become what it's become."

What it became was a daily streaming show focused on conspiracy theories about Kirk's death—theories that prominently feature Israel and implicate people close to Kirk, including Kolvet himself, in a betrayal conspiracy. "I didn't realize that we were going to be the subject of a daily streaming show where our own characters were impugned, or that we were somehow implicated in a betrayal conspiracy or something," Kolvet says.

Among the theories: that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was offering Kirk money, that his team set him up, that his closest friends betrayed him. "There was never an offer," Kolvet states flatly about the Netanyahu claim. "If there was, nobody on the team knows about it. Charlie would have had to just privately seek the secret flights." He adds that Kirk "would have never taken anything from Israel. Just as a matter of principle or from Ukraine or from the UK—he just had a hard and fast no foreign money rule."

There's been essentially one contact with Owens in recent months, as "it became apparent that we were becoming a focus of her ire and that it was not exactly a safe relationship to proceed with." Kolvet sees the phenomenon as part true crime entertainment ("You see this with Netflix. The true crime genre of things. It's a successful drama genre.") and part genuine conspiracy theorizing born of distrust.

"I've never been a hugely conspiratorial person in general, but I'm very sympathetic to why people are," Kolvet explains. "When you think about the conservative mindset and the conservative wiring, you realize I think even more why this is happening." Conservatives feel that institutions meant to preserve tradition and culture have been captured by the left, fueling distrust. Add in JFK, 9/11, and COVID, and you have a movement primed for conspiracy thinking.

But experiencing conspiracy theories from the inside has changed Kolvet's perspective: "Just having been on this side of a conspiracy theory, you just realize there's a pattern to this where they will allege connections that might have a grain of truth, an ounce of truth, and then they will leap to a conclusion that is so wild. And you're like, how did you put one and one together and then allege this from these two things?"

He believes the conservative movement needs to be more careful: "I think as a conservative movement, we do have to make sure we're fact based. We do need to be sure that we police ourselves of some of the zanier, crazier, I think, intellectually lazy conspiracy theories. But when it comes to UFOs, when it comes to Jeffrey Epstein, I think there's some conspiracy theories that we need to dive into."

Charlie Kirk's Evolution on Immigration

One of the most significant transformations in Kirk's political journey involved immigration. Kolvet remembers a car ride in 2018 or 2019—probably from Iowa City to Chicago—where he, Kirk, and Erika (then Kirk's girlfriend) debated the issue for hours. "I was the immigration hawk in the car. Erika was probably more in agreement with me. And Charlie was like, he still had this kind of legacy Chicago boy experience where he's like, look at all this farmland. Chicago is losing population. We need more immigrants."

Kirk had attended a white-minority high school in Wheeling, Illinois, had positive experiences with diversity, and started his political journey more libertarian. "Charlie just wasn't quite on that page because he had gone to a high school where it was, I think, white minority high school. He interacted, had a good experience at that high school and didn't see any issue with it."

But Kirk changed dramatically on immigration. Kolvet traces the shift not to campus activists like Nick Fuentes asking hostile questions, but to Kirk watching the national scene evolve—figures like Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib, what he saw as a lack of gratitude from some immigrant communities, concerns about importing socialist ideas and grievance politics, and ultimately the illegal immigration crisis of the Biden years.

"He became very convinced that immigration was, if not the number one issue, darn near the number one issue that's animating the base," Kolvet says. Kirk came to believe Americans needed "to still have our country that we grew up in, feeling like there is a sense of place, a sense of identity, a shared American identity."

On immigration, Kolvet sees tremendous unity on the right, extending beyond the base to moderates alienated by Biden's policies. "People consistently underestimate this issue," he argues. "People have a memory of the way the world used to feel when they were a kid or when they were going to school, and they see how it's changed... People like to be in a community that they feel safe in, that they feel like they know their neighbors. This is just the way people tend to congregate."

The Generational Divide Over Israel

If immigration represents conservative unity, Israel represents profound division—and a generational divide that Kirk was actively wrestling with before his death. "It was certainly something that we wrestled with a lot," Kolvet says. "Charlie would go to some campuses and it was like 50, 60 percent of the questions were about Israel, and that was for two years."

Students questioned the US-Israel relationship, funding levels, and AIPAC's influence. Kirk "got better and better at answering those questions and spent a lot of time trying to study the issue," moving from what Kolvet calls a "normie" position of "greatest ally in the Middle East" to more nuanced questioning.

"Charlie was really against war. He hated war. He took a lot of flack for fighting against this march towards endless blank check funding of the Ukraine war. He was vehemently against it. He didn't want America to be involved in killing abroad. He wanted us to focus domestically." This created tension when it came to Israel. Kirk "felt like he was doing more heavy lifting for a foreign country than the foreign country was doing for itself, at least from a PR standpoint, and selling this. And that frustrated him. He didn't feel like it should be his role."

At a Student Action Summit in July, Kirk and Kolvet conducted focus groups with dozens of students about Israel. The results were revealing: "A lot of them were like, well, we like Israel. We like them more than Hamas. But that doesn't mean I don't have questions about should we be funding them. Do we have to get dragged into wars? It feels like we're getting dog walked into this conflict."

Kolvet sees this as healthy: "What I don't want to see—and I think this is through line for Israel—is you do not have to support Israel to belong to the team, at least in a traditional historical sense. I don't want to see a conservative movement like that. I'm an American. I'm born in this country. My kids are going to be raised in this country. I'm going to die here. They're probably going to die here. I care about America."

He believes this represents a generational shift, with President Trump's nearly 80-year-old generation maintaining full support while younger conservatives grow "increasingly skeptical of the status quo." Israel has become "a symbolic battle about what does America First really mean."

The Alienated Young Man and the Future of the Right

Kolvet acknowledges that Nick Fuentes, despite his anti-Semitism that Kirk "rejected wholesale," tapped into something real: "You have a whole generation of young men—and we saw this for years—there's a whole generation, especially of young men, but of young women too, that felt betrayed, alienated, discarded, villainized by the establishment class, and that they were told that they were the problem just for being born in America."

These young people were told they were toxic, that they were an issue, regardless of their race. "When you do that, whether knowingly or unknowingly, you are going to create a whole class of people that are probably going to be reactionary for something that they were told they were supposed to get but that got screwed out of by the incumbent financial system or by the incumbent political class."

Kirk's mission was to direct that energy: "Before us are two roads. You can either go grievance politics, socialism, free stuff, populism, Mangione modernism, or you can go MAGA. Now, you might not like MAGA on its face. You might think it's mean or cruel or bad PR or whatever, but at least you can live with it."

For Kolvet, the path forward for populist conservatism beyond immigration includes making housing affordable—"if you want to have a nation of renters, then those people are going to burn down the country real fast when things go South." He advocates for building 5-10 million new homes, preventing institutional money and foreign buyers from dominating the market, and creative policies to help first-time buyers, though he acknowledges the 50-year mortgage idea Trump floated was controversial even among their audience.

Christian Love Versus Trumpian Fight

At Charlie Kirk's memorial service, a striking contrast emerged that captured a tension at the heart of modern conservatism. Erika Kirk spoke about forgiveness, about loving enemies, about forgiving her husband's killer. Then President Donald Trump, also Kirk's friend and someone for whom Kirk did enormous work, got up and joked—though it wasn't entirely a joke—that Erika could talk to him about forgiveness, but "I'm sorry, I can't. I can't help it. I hate him, I hate my enemies." Trump brought it up again at the Medal of Freedom ceremony.

Charlie Kirk himself was increasingly devout. When asked shortly before his death how he wanted to be remembered, he said "for his courage, for his faith." Kolvet and Kirk originally bonded over their shared Christian faith. "I think that's why when you asked me earlier in this conversation, were you afraid? And I said, well, no, but because Charlie wasn't afraid. And he wasn't afraid because of his faith, and I think he had made—I think he had realized that his life was not his own, and he had come to terms with that."

Kirk believed "America was fundamentally founded as a Christian nation for Christians, providentially guided by the hand of God to become the greatest nation in the history of the world, and that if we lost our Christian heritage, we would lose our identity. We would lose the very thing that made us special, that made America so great."

But the presentation of Kirk's life since his death has leaned heavily on the religious element—something Kolvet fully endorses: "It's not even a question, actually. He was asked not long before he was killed—and you could say before he was martyred, which I do count him as an American martyr, as a Christian martyr—that he wanted to be remembered for his courage, for his faith."

Yet Kolvet also defends the harder edge of Trumpism. He recalls the 2016-2017 debate among evangelicals about supporting Trump despite his "very worldly lifestyle." The answer became the cliché: "We're voting for a president, not a pastor." Beyond that, Kolvet argues, Trump "was injecting a little swagger, a little masculine energy into church circles that had lost their backbone."

He criticizes "big Eva"—big evangelicalism and megachurches—for becoming "soft, limp wristed, weak, feminized." TPUSA Faith was founded during COVID because Kirk "never believed that the church was just going to roll over and take it" when told they couldn't meet and worship together.

When pressed on whether conservative politics could use more of Erika Kirk's spirit of Christian love and less Trumpian combativeness, Kolvet agrees in principle but defends the harder approach in practice. Sometimes love "means that I want to—sometimes I'm going to be forced to do the hard thing on immigration, or I'm going to be forced to do the hard thing on law and order issues, because actually, that's what love looks like. Love does not look like simply being sympathetic."

He concedes that some social media posts from federal agencies in the Trump era go too far: "Sometimes, even for me, when I see some of the social media posts, I'm like, that's a little too much. And then sometimes I'm like, I love that we're just unapologetic about the fact that we're reinstituting law and order."

Ultimately, Kolvet sees both approaches as necessary: "I could concede that I would have a more conciliatory tone at times than our president. And sometimes I'm glad he showed me the way and said it like he said it... I think once the era of Trump is past us, the next—you're not going to—Trump is singular. This moment will not last forever."

Steward of a Legacy

Andrew Kolvet doesn't see himself as the new Charlie Kirk. "I don't even describe myself as the host of The Charlie Kirk Show," he insists. "Charlie is the host of The Charlie Kirk Show, and I see our job as being stewards of his mission, of his message." After working with Kirk nearly every day for eight years, he feels he has "a Charlie GPT or something in the back of my head."

The mission continues because Erika Kirk demanded it. When she looked at Kolvet and said, "They will not silence my husband's voice. You have to keep the show going," the decision was made. They kept broadcasting, carried Charlie's body home on Air Force Two courtesy of Vice President JD Vance ("I can't say enough good things about him and Usha and the way they've comported themselves"), and pressed forward.

Kolvet has learned to see the conspiracy theories, painful as they are, as "a testament to the love for Charlie." He has trained himself to "pray for people that are taking that energy and directing it at people Charlie loved, his closest friends." He draws strength from watching how Kirk himself "dealt with so many lies about him" and "learned when to stay silent, when to speak into things, when to correct, when to be strategically absent on a conversation."

The conservative movement Kirk helped build faces deep divisions over Israel, uncertainty about what comes after Trump, ongoing debates about how to balance Christian principles with political combat, and the challenge of channeling the energy of alienated young people toward constructive rather than destructive ends. But it has found unity on immigration and housing affordability, and it has Kirk's example—both his courage and his faith—to guide it forward.

As Kolvet put it in those first moments after the shooting, thinking he had to do something as people looked to him for direction: "I got nothing." But in the months since, through grief and conspiracy theories and the daily work of keeping Kirk's voice alive, he has found something: a mission to be a steward, not a replacement. To honor both the fighter and the man of faith. To hold together, if possible, a movement that has lost the relational center that was quietly holding it together all along.

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