Sarah Beckstrom Honored at Memorial as Ex-Boyfriend Shares Heartfelt Memories
The winter wind whispered through the bare branches of the New River Gorge on the afternoon of December 1, 2025, carrying the faint scent of pine and river mist to the Webster Springs High School gymnasium, where 1,200 mourners gathered in a sea of camouflage and American flags for the memorial service of Specialist Sarah Beckstrom. At 20, the West Virginia National Guard soldier lay in repose in a flag-draped casket, her dress blues crisp and adorned with her unit patch, a bouquet of wildflowers from her platoon resting atop like a gentle farewell from the hills she loved. Among the sea of faces—fellow Guardsmen in berets, high school classmates clutching yearbooks, and family members holding hands in the front row—sat Adam Carr, Sarah’s ex-boyfriend of six years, his eyes red-rimmed but steady as he rose to speak. “Sarah had a heart so big it could hold the world—she’d do anything for anyone, even strangers,” Carr said, his voice catching as he recounted their road trips to the coast and her quiet habit of packing extra sandwiches for training. The service, attended by Vice President JD Vance and Gov. Patrick Morrisey, became a tapestry of tribute to a young woman whose brief life burned bright with kindness and courage, cut short by a midday ambush in Washington, D.C., that has left her family, friends, and a nation reflecting on the quiet sacrifices of those who serve.
Sarah Beckstrom’s memorial, held in the gym where she once cheered for the Highlanders basketball team, unfolded like a homecoming for a daughter of the mountains, the air thick with the scent of lilies and the soft strains of “Amazing Grace” from a lone bagpiper. Born in 2005 in Beckley, a town of 16,000 nestled in the Appalachian folds where coal history meets river resilience, Sarah grew up in a home where her father Gary tuned engines in the driveway and her mother Lisa baked cornbread that drew neighbors for Sunday suppers. From her earliest days, she showed a gentle tenacity—volunteering at the local food pantry to sort donations for families like her own, captaining her high school soccer team with a determination that earned her the nickname “River Rat,” and graduating with honors in 2023, her valedictorian speech a heartfelt ode to “small towns that teach us big lessons.” Enlisting in the National Guard that June at 18, she balanced weekend drills with community college courses in nursing, her aspiration to become a medic sparked by her grandmother’s tales of tending injured miners in the hollows. “Sarah was the spark—always packing extra granola bars for the platoon, turning long marches into storytelling sessions,” her captain, Rebecca Thorne, said through quiet tears during the eulogy, her words drawing nods from 200 fellow Guardsmen who lined the bleachers in formation, their boots polished to a shine in Sarah’s honor.
Beckstrom’s deployment to D.C., starting mid-October as part of the 1,200-troop rotation for federal support duties, was a selfless choice—she volunteered for the Thanksgiving shift to let comrades head home, FaceTiming Gary with jokes about the “giant Lincoln staring down at us” and promising pie upon return. “She loved the museums, the walks by the memorials—said it was her first big adventure,” Carr shared in his remarks, the 23-year-old Marine veteran standing tall in his dress blues, their six-year relationship ending amicably in October but the bond enduring like a well-worn trail. Carr, who met Sarah at a Beckley bonfire in 2019 when she was 14 and he 18, described their time together as “easy, like breathing”—road trips to the Outer Banks, late-night study sessions where she’d quiz him on history, and quiet evenings planning futures she dreamed of as an FBI agent. “She had this huge heart—didn’t need to know you to help. That’s why she stayed in D.C., to make a difference,” Carr said, his voice steady as he placed a soccer ball on the casket, a token from her high school days, the gym falling silent save for a mother’s soft sob in the front row.
The ambush that silenced Sarah erupted at 2:20 p.m. on November 26 in Farragut Square, a downtown green space two blocks from the White House alive with lunch-hour strollers when Rahmanullah Lakanwal approached the three Guardsmen from behind a bench. Lakanwal, a 29-year-old Afghan immigrant who entered the U.S. in 2021 via the Special Immigrant Visa after working as a security contractor in Kandahar, allegedly pulled a .357 Magnum revolver from his jacket and fired four rounds, striking Harlan fatally in the chest and Vasquez in the upper body. Beckstrom, hit in the abdomen and shoulder, dropped her sidearm, which Lakanwal seized to advance yelling “Allahu akbar.” In a heartbeat of heroism, a nearby Guard major lunged unarmed with a pocket knife to stab him during a reload pause, allowing Sgt. Marcus Hale from Virginia to fire disabling shots into Lakanwal’s legs and buttocks. Harlan and Vasquez succumbed en route, while Beckstrom fought for 28 hours before passing on November 27, her father Gary at her bedside in MedStar Washington Hospital Center, his voice breaking as he confirmed the news. “She squeezed my hand this morning—fought like hell. But it’s a mortal wound; she’s at peace now,” Gary told reporters, his hand never leaving hers as Lisa, Sarah’s mother, prayed over speakerphone from Beckley with their other children, their voices mingling in a plea for one more miracle.
Carr’s presence at the memorial, a poignant thread in the tapestry of loss, spoke to the enduring connections that define Sarah’s legacy. Their breakup, mutual and amicable after six years marked by young love and shared dreams, left them as friends—Carr supporting her enlistment, Sarah cheering his Marine promotions. “She was my first real everything—taught me kindness in a hard world,” Carr said, his eulogy drawing applause from the crowd, including Vice President JD Vance, who laid a wreath and shared a story of Sarah’s volunteer shift. “Sarah chose duty over comfort—that’s the America we fight for,” Vance said, his arm around Gary in a moment of shared fatherly grief. The service, attended by 1,200 from Beckley to D.C., featured tributes from Gov. Patrick Morrisey, who ordered half-staff flags, and fellow Guardsmen who carried the casket on their shoulders, the procession a slow march past photos of Sarah’s soccer goals and nursing textbooks.
Vigils swelled nationwide: In Beckley, 1,500 lit candles at the armory, singing “God Bless America” under mountain skies; in Charleston, Luca placed a drawing of his mom with wings at a memorial, neighbors wrapping the family in hugs and hot meals. GoFundMe for the Beckstroms topped $2.1 million, from Guardsmen pooling paychecks to celebrities like Brad Paisley, a West Virginian who tweeted, “For Sarah—hold on, kid, we’re with you.” Social media, under #SarahStrong, trended with 6.2 million posts—photos of her in fatigues at prom, her soccer jersey, fans sharing stories of Guardsmen who “changed my life.” In Anacostia, where Lakanwal lived, leaders hosted interfaith prayers, Imam Khalid Rahman speaking to crowds: “Sarah’s light calls us to kindness—her fight is ours.”
Lakanwal faces federal murder and terrorism charges, his backstory a tangle of alliance and ambiguity. A former Kandahar contractor, his SIV granted in 2021 lapsed in 2024 amid backlogs flagged in a June Justice report. FBI raids yielded a journal with targets and encrypted files. “He helped us—betrayal cuts deep,” a handler told Reuters. As December dawns, with troops surging to D.C., Gary’s vigil ends in goodbye, but Sarah’s legacy calls for compassion. In a season of thanks, her story reminds heroes like her deserve every prayer, every goodbye.
