Why the internet made a CEO’s killer its new sex symbol
Luigi Mangione is “no hero.” Those were the words of Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro after Mangione’s arrest for the alleged murder of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson. Now, senior officials from across the country have echoed this sentiment, with NYPD Commissioner Jessica Tisch condemning the celebration of Mangione as “shocking and appalling.” Yet online, Mangione has become the anti-hero only the internet could conjure: a sex symbol, a meme, and a chaotic symbol of frustration with the healthcare system.
This isn’t about Mangione as a righteous figure. If anything, the internet’s embrace of the ‘assassin’ reveals less about its moral compass and more about a generation weaponising dark humour to cope with systemic discontent in an increasingly uncertain world.
Mangione, a 26-year-old former data engineer and University of Pennsylvania graduate, has been charged with the murder of Thompson outside a New York City hotel. His alleged motivations? A mix of personal grievances—he suffered from debilitating back pain—and contempt for the American healthcare system, outlined in a handwritten manifesto labelling insurance companies “parasites.”
Days later, Mangione was arrested in Pennsylvania with a ghost gun (a homemade, untraceable firearm), fake IDs, and a vendetta big enough to spark inevitable Netflix pitches. Ryan Murphy will be chomping at the bit, no doubt. But it’s also a vendetta that resonates deeply with people—loud enough to fuel social media mayhem for who knows how long.
And social media delivered. Some engaged in constructive discussions; others posted spicy TikToks (compiled using photos from Mangione’s social media pages) along with comments speculating about the size of his anatomy. Meme-makers adjusted Spotify Wrapped slides to appear as though Mangione’s favourite album of the year was Charli XCX’s Brat. You get the idea.
@cinegwns free our king #fyp #luigimangione #edit #brat
♬ 365 - Charli xcx
Meanwhile, Mangione merchandise is going fast, with independent home retailers selling inspirational decor reading “delay, deny, depose” in the style of the much-mocked cliche mantra “live, laugh, love.” Fans even flooded the Google Reviews section of the McDonald’s where Mangione was arrested, leaving negative reviews calling staff “rats” and “snitches.” It’s surreal, absurd, and wholly emblematic of how Gen Z processes systemic failure: with irony and memes.
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What struck people first wasn’t just the crime or the chiselled features—it was Mangione’s ‘normcore’ existence. Ivy League credentials, a privileged upbringing, and friends describing him as the “charming, intelligent guy” from their co-living community. The dissonance only adds to the allure: the UnitedHealthcare assassin, impossibly mysterious and endlessly memeable.
Friends of Mangione say his actions are not in keeping with the person they knew. Nobody remembers the high school valedictorian spouting radical ideas or displaying violent tendencies. But as police, media and online sleuths began to paint a picture of Mangione’s life over the six months before the murder, a fascinating character transformation revealed itself. He became a lone wolf, deliberately estranged from friends and family, living on the fringes of society, furiously scribbling manifestos and planning his revolution.
Among the more poetic discoveries in Mangione’s possession was a stack of Monopoly money found in his rucksack—a symbolic nod, perhaps, to corporate greed and the commodification of life’s essentials.
The 26-year-old’s descent evokes the familiar “God’s Lonely Man” archetype, a character consumed by isolation and disillusionment—one whose story, like Travis Bickle’s in Taxi Driver, culminates in violent vigilantism or a final, desperate unravelling. Media outlets pointed towards Mangione’s supposed admiration for the Unabomber (indicated by a Goodreads profile) as a sign of his extremism. But he only rated Ted Kaczynski’s manifesto four stars out of five! Such strange, niche corners of detail fuel this bizarre aura of allure and paint a picture bound to encourage intrigue and celebration.
I’m scrolling through Luigi Mangione’s Goodreads account and it is WILD.
“How long until we realize that violence against those who lead us to [self] destruction is self defense?” pic.twitter.com/x72Neyd3TN
— Farrah Alexander (@AuthorFarrah) December 9, 2024
Among the more baffling tributes circulating on social media is a video of Mangione’s photos flashing behind a DJ at an EDM concert. A cringeworthy spectacle meant to be cheeky but offering nothing new beyond empty hype. The loud cheers from the crowd raise the question: How many attendees truly understand the wider political implications? Or were their reactions shaped solely by a shallow understanding—that Mangione killed a dude, but ha ha, isn’t he hot? But, assuming there were those in the crowd cheering because they can get behind the slaying of a greedy healthcare executive, let’s hope they considered Thompson’s kids in the process.
Of course, whether you find the jokes funny or not, these celebrations aren’t necessarily about endorsing his alleged crime—they express collective rage at a system that feels dystopian. Senior police officials’ denunciation of the public reaction was predictable but it misses the mark. By focusing on condemning the public response, they ignore the larger, systemic frustrations the social media response reflects. Sure, dismissing a TikTok thirst trap or a #FREELUIGI post as callous is easy, but doing so overlooks why these expressions resonate. Governor Shapiro is right to condemn violence. But with US citizens grappling with medical debt, denied claims, and inaccessible treatments, the outright dismissal of the social media phenomenon belittles the frustrations of so many.
While critics miss the trolling aspect of Mangione’s internet ‘fandom’, the outrage highlights something real. Mangione memes run alongside grim social media posts of users sharing jaw-dropping medical bills. With five-figure charges for basic procedures and inexplicable billing errors, Thompson’s murder feels like the inevitable fallout of a failed system and underscores the mental toll of a society where profit margins trump patient care.
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Let’s face it: most people know Mangione isn’t a hero. Prominent figures dismissing the heroic status attributed to the 26-year-old seem to miss the trolling element. Sure, the event has led to some hostile online activity and threats made to public figures similar to Thompson. One can’t help but picture healthcare executives darting between boardrooms in bulletproof SUVs, sporting Groucho Marx glasses or hiring body doubles. But the majority of social media support for Mangione is ultimately harmless. Platforms like X (formerly Twitter), TikTok, and Instagram often breed an ironic or meme-driven culture. People might jokingly revere a controversial figure or a criminal as part of a performative or absurdist online trend. Exaggerated idol-like imagery is a common tool of internet humour. It’s designed to mock the situation or the seriousness with which it’s being discussed rather than to advocate for the person involved. “Free Luigi” and similar slogans are phrases often used flippantly, a shorthand for engaging in the spectacle of discourse rather than making a genuine ideological statement.
Irony, while cathartic, cuts both ways. It critiques institutions but can also become overused and hollow, a defence mechanism that avoids real confrontation. When efforts to protest against institutions or engage with prominent political figures fail to bring about real change, it’s not surprising that people lose interest in sincere discussion. Instead, they may turn to anger, violence, or, more commonly, compassionless online humour as a coping mechanism. The memes might feel frivolous, but they reflect a deeper truth: a generation exhausted by profit-driven systems, grasping at dark humour as an outlet.
Mangione’s case is ultimately a tragedy: for Brian Thompson’s family, Mangione’s family, and for a society so broken that it defaults to memes and irony as the only tools to address its failures. The spectacle may fade, but the frustrations underpinning it will remain—unresolved and unaddressed.
