BEND, OREGON – Tell me more, tell me more… was the vibe echoing through Juniper Preserve as guests in pink jackets and pompadours packed the ninth annual Scotch fundraiser. But this wasn’t just a throwback party—it was a night with real impact. With a Grease-themed bash that mixed nostalgia with purpose, Scotch 2025 raised over $150,000 for Warrior Impact, the Central Oregon nonprofit changing how veterans and first responders heal after trauma.
On May 17, the energy was electric. Paddle raises, personal stories, and raw emotion filled the air—proof that this wasn’t just about entertainment. It was about connection, community, and helping those who’ve served come all the way home.
“We’re not saving people—we’re giving them the chance to save themselves,” said Warrior Impact founder Matt Bassitt. “That’s the gift. That’s the community.”
“I Was Still Here.”
The heart of the night hit when the music stopped. The crowd fell silent as a series of raw, unfiltered video stories played across giant screens.
“I suffered injuries that ruined my body—and messed with my psyche,” said Sandra, a former law enforcement officer. “I didn’t know how to deal with it. But it was winning.”
Sandra recalled nearly driving off the Fremont Bridge on her way to a therapy session. “It was like something outside of me whispered, ‘Just run the car off the bridge,’” she said. “But I focused on the white line on the road. I followed it all the way off that bridge.”
One man spoke plainly:
“I tried to commit suicide for the third time. I had a loaded .45 in my mouth. My best friend—he’s not here anymore—FaceTimed me and stayed on the phone until he got to me. He saved me. Because of him, I’m still here.”
Every quote hit like a lightning bolt. No filters. No scripts. Just truth.
The Local Leap: Central Oregon’s First Cohort
For years, Warrior Impact has sent veterans and first responders to Save A Warrior in Ohio—a transformative experience combining trauma work, spiritual grounding, and community-based healing.
But in 2025, the game changed.
“This year, we launch our own program—right here in Central Oregon,” Bassitt announced. “Rock Springs Ranch. June 30. We’ve already got six people rostered.”
The new program will feature equine therapy, immersive curriculum, and small group breakthroughs—all built by alumni who’ve lived the journey themselves. Each four-day cohort costs $30,000, and every participant’s $3,000 seat is covered entirely by donors.
“You don’t buy your way in,” Bassitt said. “Someone believes in you enough to send you. That’s how it works.”
Paddles Up, Heart Wide Open
The auction hit with the same force as the mission—fast, loud, and unforgettable. Signed jerseys, exclusive trips, once-in-a-lifetime experiences—all flying off the block, all raising real money to fund healing.
But it was a certain six-string that stole the spotlight.
Kraig Nienhuis, former NHL player and longtime Scotch supporter, stepped on stage holding a Kid Rock–signed guitar, personally sourced just weeks before. Earlier in the weekend, Nienhuis had performed the national anthem. Now, he was helping change lives.
“This one’s straight from Kid’s studio—he knew what it was for,” Nenhuis told the crowd. “He wanted it in this room.”
Bidding erupted, paddles flew, and the final winning hand belonged to Randy Emerson, who took home the guitar for $10,000—a rock-and-roll relic transformed into a lifeline.
“This Isn’t Charity—It’s Survival.”
As the night wrapped, the mood was electric—but grounded.
“One suicide every 65 minutes,” Bassitt reminded the crowd. “That’s the math. That’s the mission. And tonight—we push back.”
No one left unchanged. You could feel it. This wasn’t just a fundraiser. It was a flame. A promise. A declaration that in this community, no one fights alone.
Then the band hit. And not just any band—Precious Byrd, one of the Northwest’s most electric live acts, lit up the tent with a full-force set that turned reflection into celebration. With high-energy covers, funk-fueled originals, and irresistible charisma, they got everyone on their feet—warriors, donors, families, friends—all moving together in a way that felt like release and rebirth.
So yes, there was singing. There was bidding. There was dancing.
But what The Scotch 2025 truly delivered was the rarest thing of all: a lifeline wrapped in joy, hope, and community.
Want to help save a life?
Visit www.warriorimpact.org or www.thescotch.org to donate, sponsor a seat, or get involved.
Because someone out there is barely holding on—and you could be the reason they stay.
