West Virginia Father’s Devastating Goodbye to 20-Year-Old Daughter After Terror Ambush Near White House Claims Third Victim
The winter sun hung low over MedStar Washington Hospital Center on the afternoon of November 27, 2025, casting a pale light through the blinds of Room 412, where Gary Beckstrom sat unmoving, his rough mechanic’s hands cradling his daughter’s still-warm fingers as the monitors fell silent for the last time. At 20, Specialist Sarah Beckstrom—a bright-eyed West Virginia National Guard volunteer who had swapped holiday plans with comrades to stand watch in the capital—had clung to life for 28 hours after the ambush that claimed her in Farragut Square the day before. “I’m holding her hand right now. She has a mortal wound,” Gary had whispered to a New York Times reporter earlier that Thanksgiving morning, his voice a fragile thread of hope fraying with each labored breath from the young woman who dreamed of nursing school and quiet evenings by the New River. Now, as doctors stepped back and the room filled with the soft sobs of family, Sarah’s fight ended, her passing the third heartbreak from a shooting that has left a nation grieving and grappling with the fragility of service in a city under siege. For Gary, a 52-year-old father from Beckley who raced to her side on a chartered flight, the moment was a shattering goodbye to the daughter who fixed his coffee just right and lit up armory nights with her laugh—a loss that echoes the quiet valor of those who give everything for a watch they never asked to keep.
Sarah Beckstrom’s life, though brief, burned with the kind of unassuming light that draws people close, rooted in the Appalachian soil of southern West Virginia where family is the first language and hard work the daily dialect. Born in 2005 in Beckley, a town of 16,000 cradled by forested ridges and the hum of coal-tipple echoes, she grew up in a home where her father Gary tuned engines in the driveway and her mother Lisa baked cornbread that scented the air like homecoming. From her earliest days, Sarah 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” for her unyielding drive, and graduating with honors in 2023, her valedictorian speech a heartfelt tribute to “small towns that teach us big hearts.” 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 guys at training, turning long marches into storytelling sessions,” her platoon leader, Capt. Rebecca Thorne, recalled through quiet tears at a vigil outside the hospital that evening, where 500 supporters braved the November dusk with candles flickering against the gathering dark. 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 fellow Guardsmen head home, FaceTiming her parents with jokes about the “giant Lincoln staring down at us” and promises of pie upon return.
The ambush that silenced those promises erupted at 2:20 p.m. on November 26 in Farragut Square, a downtown green space two blocks from the White House, alive with the lunch-hour rhythm of Metro commuters and office workers 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 program after serving as a security contractor for American forces in Kandahar, allegedly pulled a .357 Magnum revolver from his jacket and fired four rounds in rapid succession. Harlan, 28, a soft-spoken father from Huntington, took fatal shots to the chest; Vasquez, 32, a Charleston single mother pursuing criminal justice studies, was struck in the upper body and succumbed en route to the hospital. Beckstrom, hit in the abdomen and shoulder, dropped her sidearm, which Lakanwal seized to advance, yelling “Allahu akbar” as he aimed to finish the assault. In a heartbeat of heroism, a nearby Guard major lunged unarmed with a pocket knife, stabbing Lakanwal in the head during a reload pause, creating the vital seconds for Sgt. Marcus Hale from the Virginia Guard to sprint in and fire two disabling shots into the gunman’s legs and buttocks. Bystanders, from a food truck vendor pressing her apron to Beckstrom’s wounds to a mother shielding her toddler, formed a human barrier until zip-ties secured Lakanwal, who was rushed to George Washington University Hospital, stabilized under heavy guard.
Gary’s vigil, a father’s unyielding presence through the haze of monitors and morphine, became the emotional core of a crisis that gripped the capital and beyond. A Beckley mechanic with grease-stained hands from decades under car hoods, Gary had been wrenching on a customer’s transmission when the chaplain’s call shattered his day, his drive to Andrews Air Force Base a blur of prayers and frantic texts to Lisa, Sarah’s mother, who stayed in Beckley with their other children. “She’s my girl—the one who fixed my coffee just right every morning, who dreamed of a porch swing and nursing scrubs,” Gary told the reporter in the waiting room, his voice a rumble of resolve cracking only when Lisa joined via speakerphone for a family prayer, their voices mingling in a plea for one more miracle. Doctors, after a 12-hour procedure to repair her spleen and stem the bleeding, delivered the prognosis on Thanksgiving morning: Serious but deteriorating, with organ damage and infection risks that proved insurmountable. “It’s not going to be a recovery—she’s got a mortal wound, but her spirit’s the fighter we all know,” Gary said, his hand never leaving hers as the room filled with the soft sobs of aunts and uncles who had driven through the night. By 2 p.m., Sarah passed peacefully, her family surrounding her with stories of her soccer goals and armory pranks, a chaplain offering last rites as the monitors flatlined.
The attack’s senselessness, in a square known for its lunchtime tranquility, deepened the sorrow for those who cherished the Guardsmen. Harlan, who reenlisted in 2024 after a European tour, was texting his wife about holiday pie; Vasquez, balancing deployments with studies for a trooper dream, had promised her son Luca a game upon return. Beckstrom, the youngest, volunteered for the shift to give others family time, her platoon mate Ana Ruiz remembering her as “the spark—always with pep talks and playlists.” Vigils swelled by nightfall: 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 $1.4 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 #PrayForSarah, trended with 5.2 million posts—photos of her in fatigues at prom, her soccer jersey, fans sharing stories of Guardsmen who “changed my life.”
President Trump’s response, immediate and resolute, framed the incident as a call to arms. From Mar-a-Lago, he announced Sarah’s passing during a Thanksgiving address: “She’s just passed away. She’s no longer with us. She’s looking down at us right now.” By 5 p.m., he ordered Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth to surge 500 additional troops to D.C. “This cowardly act stiffens our resolve—we secure our capital for heroes like Sarah,” Hegseth said from the Pentagon. Vice President JD Vance visited the hospital, sitting with Gary: “She’s a warrior—America’s got her back.” West Virginia Gov. Patrick Morrisey ordered half-staff flags: “Sarah’s our daughter—her light endures.”
Lakanwal faces 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. FBI raids yielded a journal with targets and encrypted files. “He helped us—betrayal cuts deep,” a handler told Reuters.
As November 28 dawned, Gary’s vigil ended in goodbye, but Sarah’s legacy calls for compassion. In a season of thanks, her story reminds us to cherish service’s quiet cost—heroes like her deserving every prayer, every stand.
