Candace Owens: Saying What America Is Too Afraid to Ask
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There's an old expression, one that I've always enjoyed.
And it really applies here.
And I want you to think about this very carefully.
Marshall McLuhan said that little lies are very hard to keep secret.
But big lies are easy because of our incredulity.
Let me explain this again.
Something that you've got to understand.
He said that little lies are fragile because anybody can test them.
Anybody can challenge them and anybody can expose them because they're little lies.
You can ask, does this make any sense?
Is this legitimate?
No problem.
Pick away.
You can't keep a secret.
They fall apart under the slightest pressure.
But big lies, oh, big lies survive because people cannot imagine anyone would dare fabricate something that enormous.
They can't believe it because of our incredulity.
Their own disbelief becomes the shield that protects the lie.
The public refuses to believe a deception could be that big, that glaring.
So the lie stays safe.
And that's what's important regarding what Candace Owens is doing.
The notion of Erica Kirk.
You can't ask questions because for you to ask questions would be like, no, no, no, I can't believe that what I've been told is somehow not true.
We've seen it before in War and 9-11 and others.
You can't question it.
9-11 has to be a legitimate story because how can it not be?
You see, that idea captures, again, the problem with the Charlie Kirk story.
It explains this strange rule that Erica Kirk must never be questioned.
Because the moment you raise an eyebrow, the moment you say, wait a minute, the moment you say anything, you're treated like somebody who interrupted a funeral, you know, whether with a fog horn or something.
It's like, how dare you?
The reaction isn't natural.
It's jumpy.
It's defensive.
It's designed to scare off inquiry.
If this were any other public figure, Hillary Clinton, people would ask the obvious questions without fear.
Was she crying or performing?
Oh, dear God, don't ask that.
Did the tears flow naturally or with help?
See, people have talked for years about there's a technique.
It's a tear-inducing substances that you put on tissues and handkerchiefs.
Hollywood uses them, kind of a camphor, a mentholatum.
Politicians use them.
Public figures use them.
Everybody knows this.
It's not offensive to wonder whether a stage emotional moment was genuine, especially when the person at the center of it shared the moment with the world and had to keep repeating the performance five, six, seven times a day.
Now, let me be very clear.
I'm not saying this, and I'm not being cute and saying, well, I'm not saying it.
No, no.
But other people have been saying this, and maybe you don't know this, but behind the scenes for a long time.
We've been asking that since Tammy Faye Baker, anybody who cries, anybody who does this.
Yet as soon as you enter the territory of Erica Kirk, every question becomes forbidden.
How dare you?
And that alone should make people very curious and very scared.
For the millionth time, this is not about decency or compassion.
Is about power and the ability to control speech by declaring someone untouchable.
Once a name becomes sacred, no one is allowed to challenge the story.
The pattern shows up across every sensitive issue, every political issue.
Mention the Middle East and someone calls you anti-Semitic.
Mention immigration and somebody calls you a racist or some type of a xenophobe.
Mention transgender issues and you're a transphobe.
You're hateful.
The tactic is always the same.
Make questioning too costly.
Punish curiosity.
Use social pressure and social media to shut the gate on the first uncomfortable question.
But why?
Why do you think?
Why do you think?
Candace Owens ran into the gate and she refused to stop.
She didn't attack a widow.
She asked why a story with major contradictions was being treated like a sealed vault.
Like this is the official story.
This is the article of faith.
She asked why 20 factual questions had been ignored.
She asked why a woman who published her husband's open casket for millions, now that's millions of people, or you might say, see, you might say millions of dollars.
Can you say that?
No, of course not, because that's verbotem.
You don't understand that.
You can't say anything.
We're getting so used to that with everything from COVID to masks to politics.
You ask away.
Ask away as a juror, as a grand juror.
And now these folks are demanding absolute privacy over the very same circumstances that she shared.
I don't get this.
These were normal questions.
These are normal questions.
Reasonable questions, legitimate questions.
The kind an investigator or a journalist would ask in any serious case.
If it was Hillary Clinton, if it was Kamala Harris, you better believe that ask that.
The backlash against Candace revealed something even deeper.
People weren't protecting Erica Kirk.
No, no, no.
They were protecting the version of the story they needed to believe.
They wanted the simplest answer because the real answer might be too large, too dark, too heavy to face.
They accepted a big lie.
Theoretically, in some cases, because they could not imagine anyone would construct one.
As Marcia McLuhan noted, big lives thrive on public incredulity.
I can't believe this.
People assume the truth must be simple because they can't fathom that someone would attempt something this enormous.
That certainly you'd be found out.
Influencers pounced on the moment, not because they cared about Erica Kirk, but because they saw personal opportunity.
Pay dirt and Tim Poole.
Oh, Tim Poole.
Oh my God.
This guy spiraled in real time as he tried to gain approval by attacking Candace in this vile, profane way.
For reasons, I don't know.
I think we just saw a nervous breakdown.
Others wanted to join the respectable crowd, the safe crowd, the crowd that shames the investigator rather than confronts the people shaping the narrative.
It was performance, not principle.
What the public forgot was this.
No one was discussing Erica Kirk.
I'm going to say it again.
Not Erica Kirk, the wife.
They were discussing Erica Kirk, the CEO, for the millionth time.
I'm telling you.
The CEO of, what, $150 million operation or even more so?
They were reviewing the statements of a leader in charge of a political empire.
They were examining the timeline of a national political event, a tragedy that many people still are getting over, or trying to get over.
That's not cruelty.
That's citizenship.
It's responsible.
You do not suspend accountability because someone is grieving.
You do not halt investigations because someone requests privacy after choosing to make the most intimate of details public.
You don't hide behind emotion when facts demand examination.
Leadership and responsible leadership and responsibility rather come at a price.
And if you accept the authority of a CEO, you can't retreat into the emotions of a spouse or a mother when questions arise about the organization you run.
The two have nothing to do with each other.
This contradiction, and new teeth, this contradiction sits at the very center of the problem.
Erica Kirk wants the public sympathy without the public scrutiny.
Can't have that.
She wants the power of a CEO, of a chief executive, without the exposure.
She wants to use emotion to protect herself while using privacy as a weapon.
Yet every contradiction raises, contradiction raises new questions.
Why hide the grave site after broadcasting the coffin?
Why claim she has no time to address questions while appearing on Hannane and Megan Kelly and Outnumbered and Fox and Friends and the Five and Barry Weiss and CBS Town Hall?
Why accuse others of grifting while the organization brought in more than $140 million after the assassination?
I don't, what, is that cruel?
Too soon?
These aren't minor inconsistencies.
These are glaring, obvious, and serious.
And they demand scrutiny and they demand skepticism.
And they demand the kind of clear-headed investigator who doesn't fold under emotional pressure.
And any question you ask, you should be able to.
And that has been Candace Owens.
The outrage, the outrage at her is not about morality.
It's about fear.
People fear losing status.
They fear public shame.
They fear being called insensitive.
They fear facing the truth if the truth undermines their preferred narrative.
Candace ignored the fear and walked directly into the questions.
The enforcers of silence, I guess, apparently hated that.
And if you can't question a narrative, you don't have a narrative.
You have dogma.
When a story forbids scrutiny, it stops being journalism or justice and becomes something closer to ritual, you know, an article of faith.
Ritual demands reverence, but truth demands interrogation.
I'm sorry, you know it's true.
Look, I'm not certain who killed Charlie Kirk.
But I'm not certain whether Tyler Robinson acted alone or at all or whether he acted under direction.
I don't know anything about this because we can't ask any questions about this.
I'm not certain why foreign aircraft tracked the Kirks or why foreign registered phones appeared in the data.
Who knows?
I only know that every major detail in this story requires investigation.
Yet whenever you lean in for the next question, someone slaps the lid shut and declares the discussion over.
That is not the truth.
That is not justice.
That is not how a free society, I would hope, still applies, handles a political assassination.
And Candace Owens refused the script.
She refused the silence.
Get it through your head.
She refused to pretend contradictions were not contradictions.
She was correct on foreign aircraft.
She was correct on timeline.
She was correct on motive.
She was correct on the impossibility of the lone actor story.
Come on.
She followed facts while others followed the crowd.
Now look, the truth never needed protection.
Lies do.
And Candace asked the questions the country whispered, and you did too.
That's why she was attacked.
That's why she mattered.
And that's why she matters.
That's why her persistent remains important.
In the end, in the end, evidence wins over sentiment.
And history favors the people who questioned the big lie while everyone else bowed to it.
It's that simple, my friends.
That simple.
I thank you so much for watching.
Thank you so much for allowing me into your ear and head.
What do you think?
I've got some questions following up, as I normally do, because your insight as Lionel Nation conspiratorium grand jurors makes a lot of sense.