The assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk sent shockwaves through America. But while the country mourns, Hollywood’s late-night elites decided it was open season on the right. Jimmy Kimmel, never known for subtlety or class, mocked conservatives and twisted facts about the tragedy on his ABC program. Now, insiders say those reckless comments may derail a \$6.2 billion media merger—and trigger a seismic shift in the broadcast television industry.
The merger in question is Nexstar’s planned takeover of Tegna, another giant in the local television business. Together, the two would form a broadcast colossus, controlling 265 stations across 44 states and reaching roughly 80% of American households. It’s the kind of deal that demands heavy scrutiny by regulators. And under the current FCC chairman, conservative firebrand Brendan Carr, scrutiny is exactly what Nexstar is getting.
Carr has made it clear that broadcasters must prove their content serves the “public interest” if they want to expand. For decades, that phrase was treated like a dusty relic, allowing networks to air whatever left-wing late-night propaganda they pleased so long as they avoided outright obscenity. But Carr has taken a far tougher stance: if programming mocks grieving families, spreads political disinformation, or operates as a one-sided partisan megaphone, it won’t pass muster.
That’s where Jimmy Kimmel comes in. On his Monday and Tuesday monologues, the ABC host mocked conservatives who mourned Kirk and falsely suggested the assassin was a Trump supporter. “The MAGA gang \[is] desperately trying to characterize this kid who murdered Charlie Kirk as anything other than one of them,” Kimmel sneered. The problem? Investigators revealed the shooter had broken with his conservative upbringing, embraced radical leftist ideology, and admitted to killing Kirk because of his hatred for the activist’s pro-family views. Kimmel wasn’t just offensive—he was flat-out wrong.
FCC Chairman Carr blasted the remarks as “truly sick” and warned Disney, ABC’s parent company, that their broadcast licenses could be at risk. That was enough to spook Nexstar, which quickly announced its affiliates would stop carrying *Jimmy Kimmel Live!* Telecom insiders say the move was less about moral outrage and more about survival: Nexstar can’t afford to look like it’s siding with Kimmel while pleading with Carr for approval of its blockbuster merger.
Disney, meanwhile, had its own motives for acting fast. CEO Bob Iger suspended Kimmel’s show indefinitely, knowing full well that Disney is also begging the FCC for approval of another deal—ESPN’s acquisition of the NFL Network. The last thing Disney wants is Carr connecting their billion-dollar sports ambitions to Kimmel’s vile comedy routine.
If that weren’t enough, Sinclair Broadcast Group—the largest owner of ABC affiliates and a company with a more conservative outlook—ratcheted up the pressure. Sinclair not only yanked Kimmel from its stations but demanded he issue a direct apology to the Kirk family and donate to Turning Point USA. In other words, this isn’t going away quietly.
Carr has already shown he’s willing to shake up the industry. Earlier this year, Paramount canceled Stephen Colbert’s failing late-night show rather than risk FCC opposition to its \$8 billion merger with Skydance. ABC quietly paid \$16 million to settle a lawsuit with President Trump over comments made by George Stephanopoulos, hoping to stay in Carr’s good graces. Networks understand the new reality: push far-left propaganda too hard, and you may not get the licenses you need to survive.
Critics claim Carr’s approach blurs the lines between regulation and free speech. But the distinction matters. The First Amendment means Jimmy Kimmel won’t be jailed for his comments. It doesn’t mean Disney or Nexstar have a guaranteed right to use public airwaves to air partisan attacks. Carr’s message is simple: if broadcasters want the privilege of reaching millions of American households, they must show respect for the people they serve.
Nexstar is particularly vulnerable. By already controlling more than 30 ABC affiliates carrying Kimmel’s show, the company tied itself to his antics. Expanding further into Tegna territory—where it would control multiple stations in some markets—only magnifies the concern. Carr’s standard is clear: running a “narrow partisan circus,” as he put it in a recent interview with Sean Hannity, is not in the public interest.
For decades, the late-night crowd has assumed they could ridicule conservatives with impunity. That assumption no longer holds. Kimmel’s smug attacks on Charlie Kirk didn’t just insult a murdered husband and father—they exposed the moral bankruptcy of an industry that puts ratings and ideology above decency. And now, the very executives who enabled that culture may pay the price with billions of dollars on the line.
The collapse of Colbert, the suspension of Kimmel, and the growing unease surrounding Fallon and Meyers suggest the golden age of late-night liberal dominance is over. Regulators, advertisers, and viewers alike are rejecting the toxic mix of arrogance and political spite.
Charlie Kirk’s assassination was a tragedy. But the reaction to it may mark a turning point in American media—a moment when the cultural bullies of late-night television finally faced accountability. And if it takes derailing a \$6.2 billion merger to send that message, so be it.
