Luigi Mangione Of Baltimore: An Icon For A Broken System and Godless Subculture
Saints Don't Murder. Sociopaths Do.
In a society bingeing on true crime podcasts and vigilante justice dramas, it was only a matter of time before we stumbled onto the curious case of Luigi Mangione—the self-styled Avenger of Unjust Co-Pays.
Armed with an Ivy League education (read: a front-row seat to elite self-pity seminars), a jawline sharp enough to slice through corporate greed, and a “manifesto” that’s basically a long-form tweet, Mangione didn’t just assassinate UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson; he has become a saint for a generation that worships nothing but its desires. In an era where gods are out, grievances are in, and healthcare reform is a meme, Mangione is being canonized faster than your deductible resets.
Here’s Mangione’s alleged tweet—aka a millennial's manifesto:
“To the Feds, I'll keep this short, because I do respect what you do for our country. To save you a lengthy investigation, I state plainly that I wasn't working with anyone. This was fairly trivial: some elementary social engineering, basic CAD, a lot of patience. The spiral notebook, if present, has some straggling notes and To Do lists that illuminate the gist of it. My tech is pretty locked down because I work in engineering so probably not much info there. I do apologize for any strife or traumas but it had to be done. Frankly, these parasites simply had it coming.
A reminder: the US has the #1 most expensive healthcare system in the world, yet we rank roughly #42 in life expectancy. United is the [indecipherable] largest company in the US by market cap, behind only Apple, Google, Walmart. It has grown and grown, but as for our life expectancy? No, the reality is, these [indecipherable] have simply gotten too powerful, and they continue to abuse our country for immense profit because the American public has allowed them to get away with it. Obviously, the problem is more complex, but I do not have space, and frankly, I do not pretend to be the most qualified person to lay out the full argument. But many have illuminated the corruption and greed (e.g., Rosenthal, Moore) decades ago and the problems simply remain. It is not an issue of awareness at this point, but clearly power games at play. Evidently, I am the first to face it with such brutal honesty.”
You’d think murdering a corporate executive would stay confined to courtrooms and grim headlines, but Mangione’s story has gone viral faster than your last denied urgent care claim. Instead of outrage, the internet has crowned him a modern Robin Hood—or, perhaps more aptly, a Health Insurance Zorro, slashing at premiums with the blunt edge of moral ambiguity.
The Mangione Origin Story
Luigi Mangione, a 26-year-old with a dazzling résumé and a promising future, was the golden child of a wealthy Baltimore family. And maybe still is—time will tell if Christmas cards stop arriving.
An Ivy League graduate and tech aficionado, his LinkedIn once read like a recruitment brochure for the American Dream™. But then life intervened with a Netflix-worthy plot twist: personal health crises, unemployment, and the crushing revelation that his PPO didn’t cover therapy. This was less “grit” and more “grievance.”
The Daily Beast paints Mangione as a tragic antihero—a bright mind destroyed by the very system he was supposed to thrive in. His manifesto, dissected with the fervor usually reserved for celebrity breakups, rages against America’s healthcare machine with the kind of righteous indignation one typically finds in Yelp reviews of overpriced brunch spots.
Yet, according to reports, Mangione still managed to bounce between San Francisco and Honolulu in recent years. A tragic figure? Maybe. A resourceful one? Definitely.
Move Over, Keanu: Luigi Is the Internet’s New Boyfriend
The internet has a new darling: Luigi Mangione. On X, his mugshot has been retweeted into oblivion. Hashtags like #JusticeForLuigi and #HealthcareHero trend faster than any actual healthcare reform bill.
Why?
Maybe it’s the motive. Killing the CEO of an insurance juggernaut has undeniable anti-establishment appeal—especially when that company is widely viewed as a cartel of “merchants of death.” For a population drowning in medical debt and sedated on painkillers, Mangione’s actions feel less like a crime and more like an HBO drama pilot. But the crime is real, even if most people are too numb to care.
America’s True Villain?
If Mangione is the antihero of this tale, the U.S. healthcare system is undoubtedly the villain. To paraphrase the internet’s hot take: “Luigi Mangione didn’t kill Brian Thompson; $4,000 deductibles did.”
As the BBC recently noted, many Americans view health insurance companies as little more than legalized extortionists. Mangione’s manifesto channels that rage. It’s a Bernie Sanders speech but without the Vermont accent and spittle.
Still, let’s be clear: idolizing a murderer is ethically bankrupt at best and a slippery slope to full-blown vigilantism at worst.
Just ask Somalia.
Memes, Merch, and Moral Ambiguity
Leave it to a country declining in church attendance to turn homicide into a branding opportunity. This is, of course, a rather natural outcome for people who don’t believe in God. Mangione’s face now adorns T-shirts, mugs, and tote bags emblazoned with slogans like, “I’d Rather Die on Luigi’s Hill Than Live on UnitedHealthcare’s Plan.” Thankfully, platforms like Etsy have started removing such merchandise, though bootleg sales thrive.
Is this satire? Hero worship? Godless hedonists eating their own tails? Yes.
Mangione’s story is a perfect storm of digital-age absurdity: a man accused of murder turned into a meme-worthy folk hero. The line between critique and celebration is blurrier than the fine print on your insurance policy.
A Grim Reflection of Our Times
The Luigi Mangione phenomenon isn’t just about one man or his alleged crime. It’s a case study in our cultural dysfunction—a world where the internet elevates criminals into icons; systemic injustice fuels a hunger for rebellion and the desire for change clouds judgment of right and wrong.
But let’s not kid ourselves. Mangione isn’t a saint. He’s no hero at all. His story, however, forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about healthcare, hero worship, and the internet’s moral void. When systems fail, people often latch onto the unlikeliest figures to channel their frustrations—be it a politician, a tech billionaire, or a guy with a gun and a grudge.
As Mangione’s story unfolds, it feels like a comedy of errors and a tragedy of our times. Are we so starved for heroes that we’ll embrace anyone who fights battles we’re too afraid to face ourselves (with or without bloodshed)? Or are we simply playing out a collective fantasy where the underdog wins, even at the cost of justice via injustice?
In the algorithm-fueled spectacle of modern outrage, Mangione is not the hero we need—he’s the antihero we can’t stop retweeting.
And that’s as twisted as it gets.