It’s not every day that a candidate for statewide office finds themselves at the center of a political firestorm, but that’s precisely what happened to Jay Jones this week. The Democratic nominee for Virginia attorney general is facing fierce bipartisan backlash after a series of incendiary text messages from 2022 surfaced, in which he joked about shooting then-House Speaker Todd Gilbert and wished harm upon Gilbert’s children. The revelations have sparked renewed debate over the tone of political discourse and exposed deep divides within Virginia’s Democratic Party—particularly when it comes to representing rural regions like Southwest Virginia.
The controversy erupted on October 3, 2025, when National Review and Fox News Digital published screenshots of texts Jones sent to Republican Delegate Carrie Coyner. In those messages, Jones speculated about who he’d shoot if given the chance, stating, “Three people, two bullets. Gilbert, Hitler and Pol Pot. Gilbert gets two bullets to the head.” He also mused that Gilbert and his wife were “breeding little fascists,” and, in a separate message, wished that one of Gilbert’s children would die so the Republican leader would reconsider his stance on guns. Coyner, clearly disturbed, repeatedly tried to steer the conversation away from violent rhetoric, texting, “Jay. Please stop.” But Jones pressed on, at one point saying, “Only when people feel pain personally do they move on policy.” (Fox News)
Jones’ texts didn’t stop at Gilbert. He also disparaged the late Delegate Joe Johnson, a beloved Southwest Virginia lawmaker who died in 2022 at age 90. Jones dismissed the glowing tributes offered by Republicans after Johnson’s passing, writing, “Talking about Joe Johnson. A D but basically a R. Leaked everything to your caucus. It’s why Gilbert gave him such a glowing tribute.” Johnson, known as “Mr. Southwest,” was a centrist Democrat who served his region for decades, earning respect across party lines. As Cardinal News noted, Johnson’s legacy included paying tuition for students at Virginia Highlands Community College and being elected 11 times without opposition—a testament to his deep local roots and moderate approach.
As news of the texts spread, condemnation came swiftly from both sides of the aisle. Republican Delegate Carrie Coyner, who received the original messages, called them “disturbing and disqualifying for anyone who wants to seek public office.” She added, “Jay Jones wished violence on the children of a colleague and joked about shooting Todd Gilbert. It’s disgusting and unbecoming of any public official.” (WWBT)
Prominent Democrats also rebuked Jones. Abigail Spanberger, the party’s candidate for governor, said, “After learning of these comments earlier today, I spoke frankly with Jay about my disgust with what he had said and texted. I made clear to Jay that he must fully take responsibility for his words. What I have also made clear is that as a candidate—and as the next Governor of our Commonwealth, I will always condemn violent language in our politics.” Ghazala Hashmi, the Democratic nominee for lieutenant governor, echoed this sentiment: “I have been very clear that political violence has no place in our country, and I condemn it at every turn. Jay must take accountability for the pain that his words have caused. We must demand better of our leaders and of each other.”
Republicans seized on the controversy, with gubernatorial candidate Winsome Earle-Sears declaring, “Jay Jones wished death on children and fantasized about killing people. Abigail Spanberger’s response was empty—she condemned the rhetoric but stopped short of saying what any serious leader would: Jay Jones must drop out. Her response is simply not good enough.” John Reid, the Republican candidate for lieutenant governor, was even more blunt: “Outrageous! The Democrat leaders talk about violence very easily and their most rabid supporters commit it regularly. It all has to stop. Do not vote for these people.”
Initially, Jones attempted to deflect blame, suggesting the texts’ release was a smear orchestrated by his Republican opponent, incumbent Attorney General Jason Miyares. “Like all people, I’ve sent text messages that I regret, and I believe that violent rhetoric has no place in our politics,” Jones said. “Let’s be clear about what is happening in the attorney general race right now: Jason Miyares is dropping smears through Trump-controlled media organizations to assault my character and rescue his desperate campaign.” (Fox News) But as the criticism mounted, Jones issued a more contrite statement, taking full responsibility for his actions: “I take full responsibility for my actions, and I want to issue my deepest apology to Speaker Gilbert and his family. Reading back those words made me sick to my stomach. I am embarrassed, ashamed, and sorry. I have reached out to Speaker Gilbert to apologize directly to him, his wife Jennifer, and their children. I cannot take back what I said; I can only take full accountability and offer my sincere apology. Virginians deserve honest leaders who admit when they are wrong and own up to their mistakes. This was a grave mistake and I will work every day to prove to the people of Virginia that I will fight for them as Attorney General.”
Despite the uproar, it’s too late for Jones to withdraw from the race. Nearly 300,000 votes had already been cast by early October, and ballots are locked in as the election approaches. The Miyares campaign has so far declined to comment publicly, perhaps content to let the controversy play out on its own.
For some political observers, the episode is a stark reminder of the shifting dynamics in Virginia politics. As Cardinal News pointed out, Democrats have struggled in rural regions like Southwest Virginia since the retirement of moderate figures like Joe Johnson. The party’s urban base has grown, while its ties to rural voters have frayed. Jones’ derision of Johnson as “basically a R” underscores this disconnect. In the past, Democrats who succeeded in Southwest Virginia did so by embracing centrist positions and prioritizing local concerns over national party orthodoxy. Today, such voices are increasingly rare, and the party’s leadership is more likely to come from urban and suburban districts.
Still, the fallout from Jones’ texts is about more than just regional divides. It’s a cautionary tale about the dangers of political rage and the corrosive effect of violent rhetoric—no matter which side of the aisle it comes from. As the election draws near, Virginia voters will have to decide whether Jones’ apology is enough, or whether his words have irreparably damaged his candidacy.
For now, the controversy remains a potent reminder that, in politics, words matter—and sometimes, they echo far beyond their original audience.
