In the span of exactly five years and one day, two American women lost their lives in tragic encounters with federal law enforcement, both caught in the crossfire of our nation’s deepest political divides.
On January 6, 2021, Ashli Babbitt, a 35-year-old Air Force veteran and small-business owner, was fatally shot by a Capitol Police officer during the chaos at the U.S. Capitol.
Yesterday, on January 7, 2026, Renee Nicole Macklin Good, a 37-year-old mother of three and poet, was killed by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent in Minneapolis amid what authorities describe as a high-risk operation.
Both deaths were preventable. Both women had families, dreams, and futures. And neither deserved to die.
Let’s start with Ashli Babbitt. Unarmed and posing no immediate threat to anyone, she was climbing through a broken window in the Capitol when Lt. Michael Byrd fired a single shot that proved fatal. She wasn’t carrying a weapon or charging at officers with the intent to kill. But still, the mainstream media, dominated by leftist outlets, branded her an “insurrectionist” and a threat to democracy itself.
Her name was barely uttered in sympathetic tones; instead, she was vilified as a symbol of right-wing extremism. The January 6 events were undoubtedly a stain on our republic, fueled by frustration over a contested election, but to paint every participant as a traitor worthy of execution is not just unfair… it’s dangerous.
Fast forward to yesterday’s tragedy in Minneapolis.
Renee Good, driving a dark red SUV, reportedly attempted to ram an ICE vehicle during a raid, prompting an agent to open fire. Footage circulating online shows the harrowing moment, and early reports suggest she may have been trying to intervene in an immigration enforcement action—perhaps driven by her own views on what many on the left call “cruel” border policies.
Good was no stranger to activism; as a poet and community figure, she was mourned as a “loving mother” and “amazing human being.” Protests erupted almost immediately, with crowds decrying ICE as an oppressive force.
The media wasted no time in canonizing her: headlines highlighted her role as a parent, her literary talents, and her passion for justice, while downplaying the potential danger she posed to officers on the scene.
This double standard is glaring and grotesque.
Babbitt is demonized as a villain for protesting what she saw as electoral injustice, while Good is elevated to martyr status for allegedly confronting immigration enforcers. One is labeled a beacon of death for democracy; the other, a saint standing against tyranny. But strip away the partisan lenses, and what remains are two women—flawed, perhaps misguided in their actions—who didn’t need to end up as statistics in our endless culture wars.
Make no mistake: I’m not excusing criminal behavior.
The ICE agent had every right to defend himself and his colleagues if Good’s vehicle truly represented an imminent threat of vehicular assault. Law enforcement officers put their lives on the line daily to uphold the rule of law, and we conservatives have long championed their role in maintaining order, whether at the Capitol or on our borders.
But we must ask the hard questions: Was lethal force the only option? Could de-escalation tactics, non-lethal weapons, or even a warning shot have stopped the situation from spiraling into tragedy? Similarly, in Babbitt’s case, why was a single, fatal bullet the response to an unarmed woman in the Capitol?
These aren’t calls for weakness; they’re pleas for proportionality and humanity in a system that’s increasingly quick to pull the trigger.
The real culprit here isn’t just the officers involved—it’s the toxic rhetoric that poisons our discourse. When leftist media and politicians label peaceful Capitol protesters (many of whom were simply exercising their First Amendment rights) as “traitors” and “insurrectionists,” it primes the pump for deadly overreactions.
When the alt-left portrays ICE agents as irredeemable monsters enforcing “racist” policies, it emboldens vigilante actions that put everyone at risk. And let’s not ignore the alt-right’s role: their own inflammatory language can escalate tensions, turning policy disagreements into battlegrounds.
We’ve lost our sense of compassion in this polarized age. Immigration is a flashpoint—conservatives like me believe in secure borders, legal pathways, and enforcing the laws on the books to protect American workers and communities. But disagreement shouldn’t devolve into demonization. When we strip our opponents of their humanity, justifying violence becomes all too easy.
Both sides have blood on their hands in this regard, and it’s time to reclaim the moral high ground.
Ashli Babbitt and Renee Good weren’t just headlines; they were daughters, wives, and mothers. Babbitt left behind a grieving husband and a life of service to her country. Good’s three children now face a world without their mom. Their deaths, separated by half a decade but united by political extremism, should serve as a wake-up call. We can debate policy fiercely, whether that be on borders, elections, and everything in between, but we must reject the cycle of hatred that turns Americans against one another.
No ideology is worth a human life.
If we cannot pause long enough to grieve both women, to acknowledge that neither had to die, then we have surrendered the last shred of common ground that still binds this country together. The real tragedy is not just their deaths, but how eagerly we’ve allowed partisan rage to make them acceptable.
