I was watching a House Judiciary Committee hearing on September 17, 2025, where FBI Director Kash Patel faced sharp criticism after appearing unfamiliar with the name Dylann Roof, the white supremacist who murdered nine Black parishioners at Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston in 2015.
When Rep. Sydney Kamlager-Dove (D-CA) referenced Roof’s crime as an example of far-right extremist violence, Patel responded with confusion:
“I’m sorry. Dylann Roof? Can you give me some more information?”
Kamlager-Dove pressed further, noting that the massacre was national news and that, as head of the FBI, Patel should be aware of such a high-profile hate crime. Patel replied:
“You can give me a reminder. I’ve got a lot in front of me.”
He did not deny the event but asked for clarification, saying he wasn’t disputing the facts but needed context to refresh his memory. The exchange sparked concern among lawmakers and the public, with critics arguing that Patel’s unfamiliarity with one of the most notorious acts of domestic terrorism in recent U.S. history raised questions about his preparedness and priorities as FBI Director.
The moment quickly went viral, prompting debate over institutional memory, accountability, and the politicization of federal law enforcement. Rep. Kamlager-Dove later remarked, “These are not gotcha questions… these incidents were national news,” underscoring the gravity of the oversight. Later in the day, a guest on a cable news show attempted to mock Patel’s lack of knowledge, but only remembered eight victims. Patel isn’t the only one whose memory needed refreshing.
On the evening of June 17, 2015, a horrific act of racial violence unfolded at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina — one of the oldest Black churches in the United States and a historic center of civil rights activism. During a Wednesday night Bible study, Dylann Roof, a 21-year-old white supremacist, joined the congregation, sat quietly for nearly an hour, and then opened fire, killing nine African American parishioners, including Rev. Clementa Pinckney, the church’s senior pastor and a state senator. While visiting Charleston in 2022, my wife and I went to Mother Emanuel Church, but it was closed due to the COVID-19 pandemic. We stood outside in silence, and a passerby dropped off some flowers seven years after the event.
Leading up to the attack, Roof had become deeply radicalized online. He consumed white nationalist propaganda and subscribed to the white genocide conspiracy theory, which falsely claims that people of color are systematically replacing white people. That’s a theory the late Charlie Kirk believed. Roof maintained a personal website where he posted a manifesto filled with racial hatred, along with photos of himself posing with Confederate flags and symbols associated with neo-Nazism.
Roof specifically chose Mother Emanuel for its symbolic significance in Black history and civil rights. He hoped the massacre would ignite a race war, and he expressed this intent both before and after the shooting. In his jailhouse writings, he remained unrepentant, stating, “I still feel like I had to do it”.
Roof entered the church around 9 p.m. and was welcomed by the congregation. After sitting through most of the Bible study, he pulled out a .45-caliber Glock handgun and began shooting. Survivors later testified that Roof declared his motive during the attack, saying, “You’re raping our women and taking over the country,” before executing the victims.
After the massacre, Roof fled the scene and was captured the next morning in Shelby, North Carolina, during a traffic stop. According to Shelby Police Chief Jeff Ledford, Roof had only eaten chips from a gas station earlier and hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Officers bought him a hamburger from Burger King while he was in custody. The gesture was explained by law enforcement as a basic humanitarian response, not preferential treatment.
Roof was charged with 33 federal counts, including hate crimes and obstruction of religious exercise. In December 2016, he was convicted on all counts and sentenced to death — the first person in U.S. history to receive the federal death penalty for a hate crime. He later pleaded guilty to nine state murder charges to avoid a second death sentence, receiving nine consecutive life sentences without parole.
The shooting at Mother Emanuel shocked the nation and reignited debates about racism, gun violence, and the legacy of Confederate symbols. It also led to the removal of the Confederate flag from South Carolina’s statehouse grounds and inspired renewed calls for racial justice. Perhaps Patel needs to be refreshed on that as well.
Kash Patel was 35 years old at the time of the shooting. He was working as a federal public defender in Florida. You’d imagine that since Roof received the first federal death sentence for a hate crime ever, he might have paid more attention. My twelve and thirteen-year-old granddaughters know about those killings, whereas Patel does not. I wonder what else Patel has missed along the way?
I was once in a discussion with someone of Italian descent who claimed the largest mass lynching in American history was the killing of eleven Italian immigrants in 1891. They were killed by a mob of thousands following the acquittal of several Italians accused of murdering Police Chief David Hennessy. As bad as that was, off the top of my head, I can name over a dozen mass lynchings of Black people in America, ranging into the hundreds, though the official count says different. I’m sure Native Americans and Hispanics can do the same for their people.
This is what happens when history and current events are erased and dismissed from our collective minds. Patel works in a Justice Department that is only focused on the civil rights of white people, and an administration that is removing historical evidence of things that might make white people feel bad. The removal of the picture of “Whipped Peter” from several national parks is a recent example.
Kash Patel’s unfamiliarity with Dylann Roof — despite Roof’s conviction as the first person sentenced to federal death for a hate crime — wasn’t just a momentary lapse. It was a symptom of something deeper: a justice system increasingly detached from the communities it claims to protect, and a political culture that treats racial violence as forgettable unless it serves partisan ends.
Mother Emanuel wasn’t just a church. It was a sanctuary, a symbol, and a site of unimaginable loss. To forget what happened there — or to lead a federal agency without that memory — is to erase the pain of survivors, the legacy of resistance, and the moral obligation to confront white supremacy head-on.
This isn’t about “gotcha” politics. It’s about whether our institutions remember the names of the dead, the motives of the killers, and the meaning of the places where blood was shed. If Patel needs a reminder, let this be one. And if the rest of us do too, then we’ve got work to do.
This post originally appeared on Medium and is edited and republished with author's permission. Read more of William Spivey's work on Medium. And if you dig his words, buy the man a coffee.