Recently, a young man was murdered—no, assassinated—because of his opinion. Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, John Lennon, Alan Berg, The Moores… all killed for absolutely no reason except someone disagreed with their god given right to a voice. Add Charlie to the list.

And unlike some of those names I just dropped, Charlie didn’t hate anyone. I don’t give a fuck what anyone says. He was a man of his own faith, unafraid to discuss any topic with anyone. Respectful, honest, willing to debate in good faith—and for that, someone decided he didn’t deserve to live?

As this story keeps rolling out, I can’t help but wonder: what the hell goes through a person’s mind that makes them think this is okay? That it’s somehow acceptable? Or worse—coming out on a public platform and cheering it? Saying he deserved it?

Nobody deserves to die because of an opinion.

NOBODY.

The most miserable shit I’ve heard from so-called Americans in the last few days makes me sick. Even here in little ol’ Boise, we had a vigil for Charlie. And some looney fuck decided it was a good idea to mouth off and cheer the man’s death.

And what happened next? Some folks—Idahoans, no less—beat the man. Right there at the vigil. And look, I get it… I understand that rage. But let me be very clear:

You failed.

You stooped to the level of violence the wolves want. You gave in. You lost control. And you suck for it.

Jordan Peterson once said:

“You can’t truly call yourself ‘peaceful’ unless you’re capable of great violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful, you’re harmless.”

That quote hits deep in my soul. And yeah, it gets misinterpreted all the time, but to me? It rings absolutely true.

What Peterson means is this—peace is formed within. You must be capable of destruction and still choose restraint. You must have the power to hurt… and the wisdom not to.

Now let me tell you about something Lt. Col. Dave Grossman said that shaped how I see the world. He described three kinds of people:

The sheep, who go about their day unaware of evil.

The wolves, who feed on the innocent.

And the sheepdogs—the ones who protect the flock, who are just as capable of violence as the wolf, but only use it when absolutely necessary.

Except, I’ll take it a step further. I say 95% of Americans are sheep. 4% are wolves. And the last 1%? We’re the dogs. The guardians. The ones who stay alert, even when others sleep.

We recognize each other when we cross paths. It’s a quiet nod, a look in the eye, and an unspoken code: “I got your six.”

So here’s my final note to the 4%—to the wolves—those people who cheered Charlie’s death:

You’re on notice.
You crossed a line.
And now?

The sleeping dog just woke up.
And he’s on point.
Ready to protect the sheep from all you motherfuckers.

~Dick