Glenn Beck Demands Accountability from Mother of Dallas ICE Shooter After Anti-Gun Posts Resurface

Dallas ICE Shooting: Rage, Responsibility, and the Debate Over Rights

In the early morning hours, 29-year-old Texas native Joshua Jahn attacked a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement field office in Dallas, killing a detainee, wounding others, and then taking his own life. Authorities reported at least one bullet casing engraved with the phrase “anti-ICE,” a detail that points to motive and political anger. The scene is tragic and messy, and it forces hard questions about violence, ideology, and accountability.

Local reporting shows Jahn’s actions were deliberate and brutal, and the community is left scrambling for answers and safety. Details like the engraved casing raise the stakes, because they tie an act of murder to a political grievance. That link makes this more than a crime story; it becomes a national conversation about rhetoric and responsibility.

Joshua’s mother, Sharon Jahn, has resurfaced in the debate because of old social media posts where she criticized Texas Republican leaders and expressed anti-gun views. Critics have pointed to those posts as a way to frame motive or influence. Whatever role family dynamics played, public reaction has spun fast and partisan lines are already drawn.

Across conservative circles, responses have ranged from anger to grief to careful analysis, and prominent voices weighed in quickly. Glenn Beck chose a different tack and wrote a letter to Sharon that aired on his show, aiming for compassion wrapped in critique. His words were part plea, part reflection, and part a broader argument about rights and blame.

On today’s episode of “The Glenn Beck Program,” Beck delivered that letter and walked viewers through his point of view. He framed this as a family tragedy that also illuminates deeper cultural currents. Below is his letter as it was presented.

I write to you with a heavy heart, reflecting on the events of yesterday at the Dallas ICE facility, where your son Joshua took the lives of two migrants, wounded another, and then ended his own life. I honestly cannot imagine the depth of your grief losing your son in such a devastating way. We’re all losing too much — too many children, too many friends, too many shared dreams.

I read your words from a few years ago just this morning, expressing frustration with the gun laws and the pain caused by violence. To me, it shows, one, a mom who cared deeply about the world her son was growing up in. You asked very pointed questions of leaders, holding them accountable for the tools of violence, and today, with respect and with kindness, I would just ask you to reflect on similar questions for yourself.

Did the gun in your son’s hand kill those people, or was it your son’s choice to pull the trigger? Did the gun that ended his life — was that the gun’s decision or your son’s decision? And I wonder as you grapple with your own anger towards systems and policies whether that rage, dare I ask, might it have shaped Joshua’s path? May it have shaped his own anger, his own ideology, his own actions?

I know you don’t seem to understand, but our rights, including the Second Amendment, were born from a time when people feared unchecked power — authoritarianism — which is, I think, what you’re afraid of, or your son was afraid of: governments that silence, oppress, decide who can live or die.

And I don’t know you at all, but I can’t believe that you and I are that different in our hope that our children never face that kind of world. We both see it on the horizon, but at least one of us seems to recognize that it could happen from either side. But one side is really encouraging it, fomenting the hate and the killing here. But it’s not the gun. Never has been.

Guns have been in America’s story from the very beginning. In the 1960s, a kid, an 8-year-old, could go be sent by his father to go buy bullets without question. But the society wasn’t fractured. And when assassination shook us then, we didn’t turn to banning guns. We turned to healing the hate. That time period was followed by the Jesus Revolution. It brought people together, and for a moment, we found common ground again. We need to do that.

I don’t hold any anger toward you. I really feel for you as a parent. And I don’t hold any anger on your son. You both have paid now an unimaginable price, caught in a tangle of rights and responsibilities in a society struggling to find love and compassion. But my hope is that you can find peace, forgive yourself and others, and perhaps one day work toward unity.

We have to come back to shared principles: our universal rights given not by government but by something greater. And together we can honor those — honor all of them, including your son — that we have lost by building a world where love and not hate shapes our future.

Beck’s message is a call to avoid blaming tools for human choices, and it highlights a common Republican line: rights and freedoms demand responsibility. That argument won’t satisfy everyone, and it shouldn’t let anyone off the hook for violence. The central moral is simple — the shooter pulled the trigger and must be held responsible.

We also must confront how rage, online echo chambers, and political rhetoric can push troubled people over the edge. Leaders on all sides need to watch their words and consider the real-world consequences of demonizing opponents. Saying something loudly on social media can have ripple effects in small-town and urban lives alike.

At the same time, defending the Second Amendment does not mean celebrating violence or ignoring the need for public safety. A principled conservative stance supports rights while demanding robust enforcement, better mental health resources, and community intervention programs. Those are conservative solutions that protect citizens and preserve liberty.

There is a temptation to weaponize a grieving mother’s past posts as proof of culpability or to reduce this to a political talking point. That move is unfair and lazy, and it does nothing for victims or healing. Accountability should follow evidence and solid investigation, not social media pile-ons.

Practical steps matter: more effective threat assessment, better coordination between agencies, and investments in mental health can reduce the chance that an angry person becomes a killer. Communities need to strengthen families and institutions that help channel anger into constructive action. Protecting rights while building resilience is not a contradiction — it is common sense.

If conservatives want to win hearts and minds, they must lead with compassion and conviction, not reflexive partisanship. That means condemning violence from any source, supporting victims, and offering a vision that channels legitimate frustration into civic engagement. It also means telling uncomfortable truths about responsibility and consequence.

The Dallas attack is a tragedy that tests our institutions and our words. We can respond by blaming inanimate objects or by asking how culture, ideology, and choices intersect to produce violence. The latter approach is harder, but it offers a path to real prevention and a healthier civic life.