A reminder that reliance on God is not reserved for moments of crisis, but something to carry daily.
WASHINGTON — What began as a celebratory evening honoring journalism and the First Amendment quickly turned into a scene of fear and confusion after gunfire erupted inside the White House Correspondents’ Dinner late Saturday night.
I had arrived at the event with my wife, eager to introduce her to colleagues from Capitol Hill and fellow journalists from across the Washington area. The atmosphere was warm and festive as the program got underway. Our table, representing EWTN, was positioned just a few feet from the ballroom entrance — a detail that would take on new significance as the night unfolded.
Moments after the program began, a series of loud bangs pierced the room. I heard one shot, followed by three or four more. Having grown up in a law enforcement household — my father served as a police officer for 43 years — I immediately recognized the sounds as gunfire.
I told my wife to get under the table.
At the same time, instinct and training as a journalist took over. I pulled out my phone and began recording. From my vantage point, I could see movement at the head table as President Donald Trump and Vice President JD Vance were quickly escorted out. Security details sprang into action across the room, rushing Cabinet members and lawmakers to safety.
Kneeling beside the table, my focus shifted back and forth — between documenting what was happening and protecting my wife. The sounds of chaos were matched by moments of calm. Nearby, EWTN White House producer, Toby Capion quietly began reciting the Saint Michael Prayer. As the words continued, a sense of peace settled over those within earshot.
“We knew God was protecting us,” I recall thinking in that moment.
My wife, shaken, urged me repeatedly to leave. But with uncertainty still unfolding, I told her we needed to stay low and keep barriers between us and the direction of the gunfire. “Whoever it is has to come through me to get to you,” I told her, trying to reassure her as best I could.
We were close enough to the source of the shots that I experienced ringing in my right ear.
After roughly ten minutes, movement began again inside the ballroom. Some attendees attempted to head toward exits but were stopped by law enforcement, who instructed everyone to remain inside while the situation was secured. Event organizers soon took to the microphone, asking attendees to stay put. Initially, they indicated the program would continue.
But the mood in the room had shifted irreversibly.
By that point, law enforcement presence had intensified dramatically. Armed agents were visible throughout the venue — a stark contrast to what I had observed upon arrival. Earlier in the evening, my wife had remarked on how accessible the hotel felt, with guests and families gathered in the lobby, some watching the arrivals of well-known journalists.
Security procedures appeared less stringent than those typically seen at events involving the president. Metal detectors were positioned inside the hotel rather than at the exterior, and there was no visible second checkpoint or consistent ID verification process for attendees.
As more information became available, law enforcement officers at the scene indicated that a suspect had rushed through a checkpoint, prompting an armed confrontation. The individual was shot by Secret Service personnel and taken into custody. Authorities later confirmed that an officer who was struck by gunfire was protected by a ballistic vest and did not suffer life-threatening injuries.
In the aftermath, I recorded updates for social media, though it was difficult to process events in real time. The shock lingered.
Eventually, organizers announced the event had been canceled. Attendees were informed that the president would address the incident in a press conference at the White House shortly thereafter.
In moments like these, the priorities become clear.
You don’t think about headlines or deadlines — you think about the people beside you. Protecting loved ones becomes everything.
For me, the experience also deepened something more personal: faith. In the uncertainty and fear, prayer became a source of strength. It served as a reminder that reliance on God is not reserved for moments of crisis, but something to carry daily.
No lives were lost that night.
And for that, I am deeply grateful — for the safety of my wife, my colleagues, law enforcement, and the nation’s leaders. In the end, it was a night that underscored both the fragility of security and the resilience of those who serve and protect.
God bless America.
Erik Rosales is a Capitol Hill correspondent for EWTN News Nightly.