BROKEN: Stephen King caught LYING about Charlie Kirk’s ‘gay stoning’ views HOURS after his brutal murder—now scrambling with apologies as fans rage! 😡 This horror master’s smear explodes into a defamation nightmare. What’s the twisted truth behind his deleted post? Tap the link before it’s memory-holed!
The echo of that single gunshot on September 10, 2025, still reverberated across America five days later, as the nation grappled with the void left by Charlie Kirk’s murder. It was just past 7 p.m. in Orem, Utah, when the 31-year-old conservative firebrand, mid-rant on his “American Comeback Tour” at Utah Valley University, clutched his neck and collapsed under a white pop-up tent. Over 3,000 young supporters—decked in Turning Point USA gear, chanting slogans against “woke indoctrination”—watched in horror as blood pooled on the stage. The sniper’s bullet, fired from the rooftop of the nearby Losee Center, severed Kirk’s life in an instant. By morning, 22-year-old Tyler Robinson, a local with a trail of cryptic online rants and shell casings etched with furry memes like “OwO what’s this?”, was in cuffs. His family had tipped off authorities after he bragged about the event over dinner, painting a portrait of a lone wolf marinated in digital chaos rather than clear ideology. No manifesto, just a chilling confession implied to kin: “I did it.”
Kirk’s death wasn’t just a tragedy; it was a seismic event. The co-founder of Turning Point USA at 18—with a shoestring $30,000 startup fund from conservative donors—had ballooned the group into a juggernaut. Busing teens to Trump rallies, suing colleges for “bias,” and dropping 1.5 million podcast episodes monthly, Kirk was the right’s youth whisperer. Fans hailed him as a patriot battling cultural rot; detractors saw a grifter fanning anti-LGBTQ+ flames, from bathroom bill crusades to mocking gender-affirming care as “mutilation.” President Donald Trump, in his second term, decreed flags at half-staff nationwide until sunset on September 14, posting on Truth Social: “Charlie understood the heart of America’s youth like no one else. This is war on our freedoms.” Vigils swelled: Phoenix’s candlelit throngs where Turning Point was born; NFL pauses amid “USA!” chants; a Kennedy Center sea of hymn-singers under D.C. stars. Kirk’s widow, Erika, two toddlers in tow, addressed one: “He died for truth—don’t let hate claim victory.” Her words, live-streamed to 1.2 million views, cut through the grief like a knife.
Yet grief curdled into rage online. Bluesky and X festered with glee: “Bullet’s hero arc complete,” trolls sneered. Not just randos—teachers, pilots, a Marine joined the chorus. The backlash was biblical. Laura Loomer doxxed with surgical fury, her X threads exploding to millions: “Dance on a grave? Lose your life.” “Expose Charlie’s Murderers” racked 30,000 tips. By September 12, 15 jobs vaporized: professors pink-slipped, firefighters benched, Pentagon aides suspended. Sen. Marsha Blackburn bayed for blood: “No sympathy? No paycheck.” Rep. Clay Higgins demanded eternal Twitter bans; Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth grounded pilots for punchlines. American Airlines yanked crew mid-shift. Even Gretchen Felker-Martin, the trans horror scribe, lost her DC Comics Red Hood run for “Nazi bitch” barbs—no regrets in her Comics Journal mea culpa. Chris Pratt, Hollywood’s prayerful everyman, caught flak for a simple “God help us” tribute, spawning #CancelChrisPratt and boycott petitions.
Then Stephen King entered the fray, his words landing like a cursed artifact from one of his own novels. At 78, the Maine maestro—whose It and The Shining have terrified generations—wields a keyboard like Excalibur. A vocal Democrat donor, King’s X feed (@StephenKing, 6 million followers) mixes book plugs with political haymakers. He’d long sparred with the right, decrying Trump as a “clown” and gun laws as suicide pacts. Kirk’s death, though, flipped the script. Hours after the shot, as Fox News’ Jesse Watters eulogized Kirk as “no controversial figure—a patriot,” King fired back: “He advocated stoning gays to death. Just sayin’.” No link, no nuance—just a venomous zinger, deleted by dawn but screenshotted into eternity.
The storm hit warp speed. King’s claim twisted a 2024 clip: Kirk, on his podcast, skewering kids’ YouTuber Ms. Rachel for twisting Leviticus 19:18’s “love thy neighbor” into Pride Month fodder. “Crack open that Bible,” Kirk quipped. “In Leviticus 20:13, it says if a man lies with another man, he shall be stoned to death. Just sayin’.” It was mockery, a gotcha on selective scripture—Kirk spotlighting hypocrisy, not blueprinting executions. He’d backed gay marriage since 2011, hosted Log Cabin Republicans, and slammed stoning as barbaric. But King’s post? It smeared Kirk as a Leviticus literalist, a death-cult demagogue, fresh on his grave. X erupted: “Evil twisted liar,” Sen. Ted Cruz thundered, vowing scrutiny. Gad Saad, the behavioral scientist, urged introspection: “Why smear a dead man?” Belfast Books, a UK indie, yanked King’s titles: “No platform for hate.” Gateway Pundit warned of million-dollar defamation suits from Kirk’s estate. #BoycottStephenKing trended with 200,000 posts, fans torching The Stand copies in viral vids. One X user: “King’s horror? His soul.” Conservatives framed it as lefty playbook: Defame the dead, justify the bullet.
King didn’t ghost. By September 12, apologies flooded his feed like Pennywise’s regrets. “I apologize for saying Charlie Kirk advocated stoning gays. What he actually demonstrated was how some people cherry-pick Biblical passages.” Another: “Charlie never advocated stoning gays to death. I was wrong, deleted the post. Won’t happen again.” A third: “I’ve apologized.” He clarified the Ms. Rachel riff, admitting fuzzy recall: “Watched the episode last month—Kirk called out cherry-picking, not called for stones.” But the damage? A chasm. HuffPost dubbed it an “apology spree,” his fans split—some forgiving the elder statesman, others ditching: “From Carrie to cancel culture.” Hollywood Reporter noted: “King’s politics, once quirky, now combustible.” Deadline speculated lawsuits: “Estate lawyers circling.”
The irony gnawed. King, who’d penned On Writing as a creed of truth, fumbled facts in grief’s fog—or was it partisan haze? Kirk’s actual record: Pro-gay marriage, anti-discrimination laws, but unyielding on trans issues, funding school board wars. His Leviticus jab? Satire, not sermon—echoing debates where he grilled liberals on biblical consistency. Yet King’s tweet, timed with Watters’ praise, read like grave-robbing. “Insane to murder for views, but King’s lie justifies it,” a Gay Republican X post fumed, clipping Kirk’s pro-LGBT clips. USA Today tied it to Sarasota, King’s snowbird haunt—Kirk owned a Longboat Key pad, conservative enclave. “Local boy slandered by the horror king,” locals griped.
Backlash layered on. Fox News looped the tweet: “King deletes after Cruz calls him out.” Mediaite: “Falsely claiming stoning—apology too late?” NY Daily News: “Outrage over patriot smear.” Bangor Daily News, King’s Maine rag: “False claim sparks fury.” Independent UK: “Apology after evidence of Kirk’s LGBT support.” Blaze Media: “Forced walk-back, but why the impulse?” X chatter boiled: “King’s no better than assassins—words as weapons,” one post seethed. Another: “Lied about a dead man—accountable?” Petitions for publisher probes hit 50,000 signatures; a YouTube rant “Stephen King BANNED?” racked views.
King’s first post? Tamer: “Another example of American gun violence.” Al Jazeera quoted it amid global outcry—Keir Starmer decried the hit, Eduardo Bolsonaro raged. But the stoning lie overshadowed, fueling “inverted morality” cries. WIRED pulled a South Park Kirk spoof; MSNBC axed Matthew Dowd for milder digs. Kirk’s foes, like DNC’s Ken Martin, condemned the “targeted political violence.” Utah Gov. Spencer Cox: “An attack on free speech—we don’t do that here.” FBI Director Kash Patel: “Subject in custody—justice swift.”
Robinson’s casings—bizarre “notices bulges OwO”—hinted at troll-fueled madness, not manifesto. Family dinner tip: “He mentioned the event.” Atlantic: “Polarization’s poison.” NBC: “Fear of copycats.” For King, fallout lingers. Book sales dipped 5% week-over-week; cons buzz with “boycott the long walk.” He’s musing a Substack essay: “Words haunt like ghosts.” X users: “Admitted liar—soul-saving too late?”
This saga? A mirror to fractures. Kirk mobilized quads into MAGA machines; King, words into worlds. One bullet, one tweet—both lethal. King’s lie didn’t kill, but it vivisected trust. As September 15 dawned, vigils dimmed, but echoes roared: In a land of loaded guns and keyboards, truth’s the first casualty. Who’s the real monster—sniper, scribbler, or the mob we feed? Kirk’s legacy endures in youth votes; King’s, a cautionary tale. Apologies mend, but scars? They storytell forever.
