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Less than 24 hours after a bullet whizzed across a Utah college campus and claimed the life of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, polarizing figures from across the political spectrum swiftly canceled public events.

Rep. Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.) decided to postpone a North Carolina stop on the “Fighting Oligarchy” tour this weekend, while Trump allies Stephen K. Bannon and Rudolph W. Giuliani reportedly nixed plans for a New York gathering due to “increased security concerns.”

Popular leftist Twitch streamer Hasan Piker, who was set to debate Kirk at Dartmouth College later this month, told Politico he would “wait for the temperature to lower” before holding in-person events again.

Kirk’s assassination comes amid a spate of attacks on high-profile political figures — including two assassination attempts on President Trump — that security experts say will change the way large-scale political events are held, with open-air venues increasingly seen as risky.

“In the current threat environment, outdoor venues for political events should be avoided at all costs,” said Art Acevedo, the former head of the Houston and Miami police departments.

Even with a security apparatus as powerful as the U.S. Secret Service, experts say it is incredibly difficult to establish a firm perimeter at outdoor rallies with a large number of attendees. The gunman who opened fire on Trump in Butler, Pa., during the 2024 presidential campaign did so from more than 400 feet away. Kirk was shot from a distance of more than 400 feet with a powerful bolt-action rifle.

The suspected gunman, 22-year-old Tyler Robinson, was arrested Friday morning, authorities said. Utah Gov. Spencer Cox said ammunition recovered and linked to the shooting had anti-fascist engravings on it.

A PBS/Marist Poll conducted last year found that 1 in 5 Americans believe violent acts would be justified to “get the country back on track.”

Democratic lawmaker Melissa Hortman was killed alongside her husband at their Minnesota home in June by a gunman allegedly motivated by conservative politics. In April, police arrested a man who allegedly tried to set fire to Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro’s residence while the Democrat slept inside with his family.

Politicians aren’t the only ones being targeted. The killing in December in Manhattan of a healthcare industry executive turned suspected gunman Luigi Mangione into an object of public fascination, with some applauding the act of vigilantism.

With Americans increasingly viewing their political foes as enemy combatants, researchers who study extremist violence and event security professionals say Kirk’s killing on Wednesday could mark a turning point in how well-known individuals protect themselves.

“The bottom line is, for public political and other figures, it is increasingly difficult to protect them anywhere, but even more so in an outdoor environment because it’s getting harder to screen people and devices in those open spaces,” said Brian Levin, a former New York City police officer and professor emeritus at the Center for the Study of Hate and Extremism at Cal State San Bernardino.

Kirk was being protected by roughly a half-dozen Utah Valley University police officers and a handful of private security guards Wednesday, according to campus security officials. While that kind of presence might deter a close-quarters threat, snipers and other assailants with long-range capabilities would not be affected.

Typically, security professionals seek to create three “rings of protection” around the focus of a public event, according to Kent Moyer, founder of World Protection Group, an international security firm.

The inner ring often consists of barriers and security personnel meant to separate Kirk from the crowd immediately in front of him, not someone hundreds of yards away. In the middle ring, security guards positioned farther from the focus of the event monitor the temperature of the crowd and try to clock individuals acting strangely or becoming aggressive. An outer ring would serve to search bags and screen individuals before they enter the event.

It did not appear there was any screening of attendees at the event where Kirk was killed, and it is legal to openly carry firearms on a college campus in Utah.

Levin said he expects to see drones deployed at similar events in the future, an assessment seconded by Acevedo.

“If you’re going to do an outdoor event you better make sure you have some kind of surveillance of rooftops,” Levin said.

When doing risk assessments, Levin said, police and security professionals need to be cognizant that politicians themselves are no longer the sole targets for political violence.

What Levin called “idiosyncratic actors” are increasingly likely to lash out at those connected to political and policy positions they find unjust. While Kirk was not a politician himself, he was a beloved figure in Trump’s orbit, and his activist group, Turning Point USA, has often been credited with driving younger voters to support the president.

“It’s not just elected officials. It’s pundits, it includes corporate people, people involved in policy and education,” said Levin.

But a heavy security detail doesn’t come cheap.

While elected officials are guarded by a range of federal and state law enforcement agencies, political influencers like Kirk must rely on their own vendors as well as security personnel hired by the venues where they speak.

Levin warned that law enforcement assigned to political events should be on high alert for retaliatory attacks in the near future, given the “dehumanizing” rhetoric some have taken up in the wake of Kirk’s killing.

Specifically, he pointed to Trump’s Oval Office remarks late Wednesday blaming Kirk’s death on “the radical left,” despite the fact that Kirk’s killer had not been identified at that time and federal law enforcement officials had not disclosed a motive in the shooting.

Trump also rattled off a number of attacks on Republicans during his remarks, while making no mention of Hortman’s slaying, the 2022 attack on the husband of then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, or the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol — all violent incidents carried out by people who espoused right-wing political values.

“More and more people across the ideological spectrum, though more concentrated on the far hard right, think violence is justified to achieve political outcomes,” Levin said.

ST. PAUL, Minn. — Hundreds of people, some clutching candles or carrying flowers to lay in front of a memorial, gathered outside Minnesota’s Capitol on Wednesday evening for a vigil to remember a prominent state lawmaker and her husband who were gunned down at their home.

As a brass quintet from the Minnesota Orchestra played, Gov. Tim Walz wiped away tears and comforted attendees at the gathering for former House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, who were killed early Saturday in the northern Minneapolis suburbs.

Colin Hortman, the Hortmans’ son, embraced Walz and lay a photo of his parents on the memorial.

The memorial, which sprang up outside the Capitol after the killings, features flowers, American flags, photos and sticky notes with such messages as, “Thank you for always believing in me and in Minnesota” and “We got this from here. Thank you for everything.”

Wednesday’s vigil also included a Native American drum circle, a string quartet and the crowd singing “Amazing Grace.”

Around the gathering, there was a heavy police presence, with law enforcement blocking off streets leading up to the Capitol and state troopers standing guard.

The event didn’t include a speaking program and attendees were instructed not to bring signs of any kind.

The man charged in federal and state court with killing the Hortmans, Vance Boelter, is also accused of shooting another Democratic lawmaker, Sen. John Hoffman, and his wife, Yvette, at their home a few miles away in Champlin. They survived and are recovering. Federal prosecutors have declined to speculate about a motive.

Boelter’s attorneys have declined to comment on the charges.

Hortman had served as the top House Democratic leader since 2017, and six years as speaker, starting in 2019. Under a power-sharing deal after the 2024 election left the House tied, her title became speaker emerita and Republican Rep. Lisa Demuth became speaker.

Walz has described Hortman as his closest political ally and “the most consequential Speaker in state history.”

The Hortmans were alumni of the University of Minnesota, which held a midday memorial gathering on the Minneapolis campus.

Rebecca Cunningham, the university’s president, spoke during the event about the grief and outrage people are grappling with along with questions about how things got to this point.

“I don’t have the answers to these questions but I know that finding answers starts with the coming together in community as we are today,” she said.

Funeral information for the Hortmans has not been announced.

Vancleave and Golden write for the Associated Press. Golden reported from Seattle. AP writer Steve Karnowski in Minneapolis contributed to this report.

It’s 7 p.m. on a Thursday at the driving range at the Westside’s Rancho Park Golf Course.

At one end of the raised platform, the stalls are mostly occupied by polo shirt-wearing men quietly practicing their swings. But at the other end, a crowd gathers. People of all backgrounds are vibing to hip-hop and Afrobeats playing over two portable speakers and socializing over beer and snacks from the food stand. They’re dressed in streetwear and stylish sports apparel — Jordan 1s, fitted caps, tennis skirts and baggy pants. One woman is wearing tall platform boots and a patterned skirt and hugging friends. When someone steps up to take a swing, others watch and offer support and pointers.

“Remember to breathe,” someone says.

“Relax your grip,” advises another.

Aspiring golf pro Rob Perea, right, teaches beginning golfers during a Swang golf event.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

Not your typical golf meetup, this is Swang, an L.A. golf collective that hosts a regular gathering called “Free Range,” where attendees can receive casual guidance from longtime golfers — and just hang out. With the welcoming motto “pull up, tap in,” founder Modi Oyewole created Swang to provide a space for the golf-curious and those who’ve been searching for like-minded folks to play with in the historically white- and male-dominated sport. He says that for generations, entering the world of golf has been both financially and culturally difficult.

“When I ask people how they found out about us, a lot of the stories are the same,” says Oyewole, 38. “People never felt like this was a thing they could do. But with this, we are quite literally saying, f— all that. We can do this too. You can wear what you want. You can be you and still come play.”

Swang golf collective founder Modi Oyewole, left, with Juliet Udeochu.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

A small camera crew follows Oyewole, who is wearing a Toro y Moi T-shirt, cargos and Adidas sneakers, capturing content for Swang’s social media accounts. He takes a powerful swing, sending the ball flying onto the field. You’d think that he’s been playing for years, but golf is a new passion for the multifaceted creative who’s worked at various record labels and for brands like Nike and Redbull.

Oyewole’s father introduced him to the sport about 20 years ago during the height of Tiger Woods’ career. “I think seeing a Black person in this sport that’s predominantly white and him dominating it definitely got my dad like, ‘Alright, we can do this now. We have representation,’” Oyewole recalls. His dad began taking him and his younger brother to a public driving range in their District of Columbia neighborhood until it shut down.

Oyewole didn’t think about golf again until several years later, when one of his friends invited him to the Hypegolf Invitational hosted by Hypebeast in Santa Clarita — an invitation he accepted begrudgingly, he says. But what he saw surprised him.

“This was my first time experiencing golf in it’s entirety, ever. I’d never been to a golf course, let alone a very fancy country club, and I’d also never seen golf presented in this way,” he recalls.

One of the first people he saw at Hypegolf was rapper Macklemore, who was rocking a clothing collaboration between his golf line Bogey Boys and Adidas. Every hole on the course was sponsored by a different brand. DJs were spinning upbeat music, and all of the attendees were, in Oyewole’s words, “swaggy.”

Blaise Butler of Los Angeles sets up a golf ball on the tee, left, while attendees pose for photos. Swang’s Instagram bio reads that it’s a community for those “who were never invited — but always belonged.”

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

He was also amazed to run into several people within his orbit who he didn’t know played golf. “It was just one of those moments where I was like, ‘Wait, I feel like they figured out a way to make this digestible to a person like me,’” says Oyewole. “It was eye-opening because it taught me that the game was cool, and it wasn’t the game that I was upset at. It was the context surrounding the game.”

A few weeks later, Oyewole quit his job as the vice president of creative, experiential and content development at Def Jam Recording. With his newfound free time, he started playing golf at the Maggie Hathaway Golf Course in South Central — named after a longtime civil rights activist who helped break the color barrier on L.A.’s public golf courses — with a friend who gifted him hand-me-down clubs. Before long, he was hooked.

He hosted the first Swang event in August 2023 at the Rancho Park driving range. Oyewole and two of his friends brought a speaker to play music, along with golf clubs and balls for attendees to practice with. About 25 people showed up, including a few golf influencers like Jacques Slade and Loulou Gonzalez — some of whom had never played golf before and others who’ve been playing their whole lives.

“Just seeing that was magical, but I think what was more magical than that was hearing these longtime golfers say, “Man, I’ve been golfing forever and I’ve never seen anything like this,” Oyewole says. “You’re not going to see this makeup of people in this size at the driving range. It doesn’t happen. Golf doesn’t look like this.”

Swang arrives in L.A. at a time when golf is booming in popularity post-pandemic, particularly among women and young people. Although golf has long been perceived as a sport that “older” people play, the National Golf Foundation revealed that in 2024, the largest group of on-course golfers — nearly 6.3 million players — were between the ages of 18 to 34. Since 2019, there’s been a 41% increase of female golfers, the NGF reports, and every year since 2020, roughly 3.3 million people have hit the course for the first time. The surge can be credited to content creators and YouTubers amplifying the sport online, trendy apparel brands, shows like “Full Swing” on Netflix, nightlife-adjacent establishments like TopGolf and collectives like Swang who are introducing the sport to a new demographic.

A crowd fills the top level of the driving range.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

Swang attracts roughly 75 to 100 regular attendees at each Free Range session. Among them are creatives, musicians, entrepreneurs, tech professionals, actors, marketers and more.

Although some people bring their own golf gear to the meetups, none is required. It’s also “a safe place to suck,” Oyewole says.

Prior to discovering Swang, Adil Kadir’s only experience with the sport was going to TopGolf, but it was something he wanted to get better at. As someone who worked in the tech industry, he viewed golfing as a “language” or entry point that could improve his “ability to integrate into the world of business.”

But through Swang, he discovered that golfing was also fun. “Nothing can really stimulate the amount of dopamine you get from actually hitting the ball the right way,” he says.

Beginning golfers get individual instruction.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

Stacey Esteban was nervous about attending Free Range for the first time because of negative experiences she had at other golf ranges in L.A.

“I’ll hear side comments from other people who don’t look like me, and they’re trying to give me lessons that I never asked for, and it doesn’t feel safe for me. But here, I was like, ‘It’s safe,’ ” says Esteban, who started playing golf during the pandemic. “These are people I’d want to talk to and hang out with.”

Josh Hubberman, 43, has been playing golf on and off since he was a child, but he didn’t get back into the sport until he went to a Swang meetup last year. “Driving ranges are often quiet [with] two people in a bay, and you’re kind of just politely waiting for a bay to open,” says Hubbeman, who is the co-founder of the creative venture studio Cthdrl. “Then when you show up at Swang, we have music playing. We take over 10-plus bays, and it’s a big social event as well, so there’s an energy that immediately, you get on site and it’s like, ‘Oh, that’s got to be Swang!’ ” About a year later, Hubberman reached out to Oyewole about teaming up with Cthdrl and working together to turn Swang into a viable business.

Swang is already making an impact on the golf industry in L.A. and beyond. In August, the collective programmed the music at an exclusive TopGolf event featuring rapper Larry June. Earlier this year, Swang partnered with the Rolling Loud music festival to co-produce a golf invitational and release a capsule collection. Swang also hosted a tournament in L.A. called Spicoli’s Scramble — in honor of Oyewole’s late best friend — and raised $20,000 for the Grammy Museum and Recording Academy’s Quinn Coleman scholarship.

The larger vision for Swang, Oyewole says, is to continue hosting the Free Range sessions and eventually add a membership component that would allow members to access exclusive events and experiences such as group trips to golf tournaments around the globe. The collective recently started creating short- and long-form social media content, and they will debut their first Swang apparel piece at Paris Fashion Week later this month.

Back at the driving range, chill R&B music is playing, and a handful of attendees are taking their final swings for the night before the overhead lights at the range shut off.

Reni Somoye, 32, was about to leave, but she decides to stay after another attendee encourages her to hit the ball one last time. She’s been watching other people throughout the night and realized that she needed to swing more powerfully. When it’s her turn, she walks toward the edge of the stall, pauss, swings and then strikes the ball so hard it flies out onto the field. The group that was mingling nearby begins to cheer.

She turns around, smiling from ear to ear, and daps up the coach.

“Alright,” she says. “Alright, that was good!”

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)