A single reply on X carried the weight of what was coming. On Sunday night, February 15, 2026, actor Kevin Sorbo posted a straightforward observation about Democratic Rep. Sarah McBride. Within hours, a user identifying as Roberta Dorgano fired back: “keep bashing us. but do not wonder why we Go BERSERK.”
The next afternoon, that warning turned into reality inside Lynch Arena in Pawtucket, Rhode Island. Robert Dorgan, 56, the man behind the account, walked into a high school hockey game where his son was playing and opened fire on his own family. He killed two people — the boy’s mother and the teenager’s sibling — and critically wounded three others, including additional relatives and a family friend. Dorgan then turned the gun on himself.
Surveillance video captured the horror in raw detail: players diving for cover, parents and spectators scrambling from the stands. A father of another player became a hero in the moment, rushing the shooter and briefly disarming him before Dorgan produced a second firearm. The attack ended only when Dorgan chose to end his own life.
Pawtucket Police Chief Tina Goncalves described it as a targeted family dispute. No random rampage. No stranger violence. This was a man settling scores with the people closest to him, in the one place his son should have been safe.
Dorgan had lived with gender delusions for years. He underwent gender-reassignment surgery in 2020 and began presenting as Roberta Esposito. Court records from his divorce paint a clear picture of the fracture. His then-wife, Rhonda Dorgan, initially listed the surgery itself and “narcissistic + personality disorder traits” as grounds for the split. The final filing softened the language to “irreconcilable differences,” but the damage was done. The marriage ended in June 2021.
Family conflicts spilled into police reports long before the divorce. Dorgan accused his father-in-law of threatening to have him “murdered by an Asian street gang” if he did not leave the North Providence home — all because the family refused to accept a “tranny” living there, according to the complaint. He also claimed his mother assaulted him. Both sets of charges were later dismissed.
A woman who identified herself as Dorgan’s daughter spoke outside the police station after the shooting. “He has mental health issues,” she said. “He’s very sick. He shot my family and he’s dead now.”
The Sunday post to Sorbo was not an isolated outburst. The same account had engaged in similar exchanges, including telling Alex Jones to “stfu” and stop being “butt hurtt over somebody different.” Dorgan’s online activity revealed a man who framed any criticism of transgender ideology as justification for rage.
This tragedy lands less than a week after another mass shooting carried out by a transgender-identified individual. In Tumbler Ridge, British Columbia, 18-year-old Jesse Van Rootselaar — born male and pretending to be female — killed eight people, including family members and students at his former high school, before taking his own life. Authorities there had visited him multiple times for mental health concerns.
Two cases. Two shooters who identified as the opposite sex. Two families shattered in public spaces. The pattern does not require conspiracy to see; it requires honesty to acknowledge. This has been a trend for a while that very few are discussing.
Dorgan’s son survived the afternoon physically unharmed, but the images of his father’s final act at senior night will never leave him. The arena that should have held cheers and trophies now holds bloodstains and unanswered questions.
Rhode Island authorities continue to investigate, reviewing every digital footprint and court document. The warning Dorgan posted for the world to see sits there still — a public declaration that violence was not only possible but, in his mind, inevitable if “we” felt bashed.
The families buried today did not bash anyone. They simply existed in the orbit of a man who chose rage over reconciliation, ideology over healing, and a hockey rink over restraint. The post on Sunday did not cause Monday’s massacre, but it announced it. And the country watched it unfold exactly as written.
Two Storms, One Harvest
Every food crisis in living memory has been a one-shock event. The 2008 price spike was a commodity bubble. The 2020 shortages were a logistics failure. The 2022 grain scare was a war on one exporter’s ports. Each time, the system bent, adjusted, and recovered, and each time the experts assured us afterward that global markets are simply too big and too diversified to fail.
What nobody in Washington seems eager to discuss is that 2026 is shaping up to be something the modern food system has never actually faced. Two independent shocks, one climatic and one geopolitical, are converging on the same harvest cycle at the same time. Not sequentially. Simultaneously.
Start with the weather. The Pacific Ocean is currently building toward what forecasters now openly call a record event. NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center puts the odds of at least a strong El Niño near 88 percent, with roughly two in three odds it reaches “very strong” status, the tier reserved for perhaps three or four events in the entire satellite era. Every major global model now projects a median peak in Super El Niño territory, and most of them project it exceeding the 2015-16 event, which until now held the modern record. Sea surface anomalies were already brushing the super threshold in mid-July, months before these events normally peak. The atmosphere has already shifted into El Niño mode, and the event is forecast to crest in late fall and early winter.
This is not about “climate change.” It’s about the standard cycles of weather, and the cycle we’re currently in is one that has likely devastated societies in the past. We’re better prepared as a society today, but not all Americans are equally prepared.
Serious households have started doing the quiet math on their own. Grocery bills tell part of the story, and the forecast maps tell the rest, which is why long-term food storage has moved from fringe hobby to mainstream line item in the family budget, with established suppliers like Heaven’s Harvest seeing demand from people who five years ago would have rolled their eyes at the idea. That instinct is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition, and the pattern is worth walking through carefully.
Editor’s Note: Heaven’s Harvest IS a sponsor, but the warnings of this article are real and would be written even if we didn’t have a survival food sponsor. With that said, those who take advantage of what they offer can use promo code “Patriot” for 15% off.
The Fertilizer Clock Is Already Running
While the Pacific warms, the second shock has been unfolding in the Strait of Hormuz. The conflict with Iran turned the world’s most important energy chokepoint into a contested waterway, and the consequences reach far beyond the gas pump. Roughly a third of global fertilizer trade moves through Hormuz, and the disruption sent urea prices up 86 percent year over year by March, with a 53 percent jump in a single month.
The World Bank projects energy prices rising about 24 percent in 2026 and fertilizer about 31 percent. By its own accounting, fertilizer prices ran 35 percent higher in the first five months of this year than the same period last year.
Here is the mechanism the nightly news will not explain. Fertilizer is not a grocery item. It is a time-delayed input. The nitrogen a farmer in Iowa or Punjab could not afford to apply this spring does not show up as a problem this spring. It shows up as a thinner harvest six to twelve months later.
The World Bank’s own food security brief concedes that the effects of reduced applications earlier this season “are likely to become visible only later in harvest outcomes.” Translate that from institutional language into plain English and it means this. The damage is already done, it is already in the ground, and we are simply waiting for it to arrive on the shelf.
Now check the calendar. Six to twelve months from the spring planting season lands us squarely in late 2026 and early 2027. Which is precisely when the strongest El Niño in the instrumental record is forecast to peak, bringing its signature droughts to Southeast Asia, Australia, southern Africa, northern Brazil, and South Asia, the very regions that grow the world’s rice, sugar, and oilseeds.
The World Bank warns openly that a strong El Niño “could disrupt multiple crop belts simultaneously” on top of the conflict-driven input costs. Their baseline projection assumes the Middle East disruptions ease by autumn. What in the last two years of Middle East history suggests that assumption is safe?
The System Has No Slack Left
The comfortable answer is that global markets always adjust. But adjustment requires slack, and the slack is gone. Global cereal production is expected to decline from last year’s records even before El Niño does its work. The UN World Food Programme, hardly a den of right-wing preppers, is calling this the most significant disruption to its supply chains since Covid and the invasion of Ukraine, and its supply chain director put the stakes bluntly.
Today’s supply chain challenges are tomorrow’s hunger crisis.
There is also a political dimension that markets cannot price. When food gets scarce, governments do not behave like economists. They behave like politicians. Export bans, hoarding mandates, and panic buying at the national level turned the modest rice shortfall of 2008 into a global crisis, and analysts are already warning that import-dependent nations are the first dominoes.
The 2015-16 Super El Niño, a far weaker event than what is now forecast, threw tens of millions into food stress across Africa and Asia. This one is projected to be stronger, and it arrives with fertilizer already rationed by price and shipping lanes already contested by missiles.
What Joseph Knew
Scripture does not treat preparation for lean years as faithlessness. It treats it as wisdom delivered in advance to those willing to act on it.
Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt.
Joseph did not respond to that warning with a hashtag or a committee. He stored grain during the years of abundance, and when the famine came, Egypt stood while its neighbors begged. The lesson is not that famine is certain. It is that the time to prepare is precisely when preparation still looks optional.
Nobody who filled a pantry in a year of plenty has ever regretted it, and nobody standing in an empty aisle has ever been glad he waited for certainty.
None of this calls for panic, and panic is the enemy of sound judgment anyway. It calls for the same unglamorous prudence our grandparents considered ordinary. Keep some cash margin, know your local growers, and put real food in deep storage while it is cheap and available, because the entire arc of this story is that cheap and available is a closing window.
Families looking for a straightforward place to start can visit Heaven’s Harvest and use promo code Patriot for 15 percent off long-term storable food. The forecasts may yet soften, the strait may yet reopen, and we should pray they do. But hope is a fine thing to hold and a foolish thing to eat.