Despite the cold-blooded assassination of a father of two in Manhattan, it’s been a surprisingly and acutely erotic few days on the feeds. To refresh: last week, UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson was gunned down outside the Hilton hotel in Midtown. Bullet casings left behind read “deny, defend and depose”, a reference to how insurers dodge payouts on claims. After a five-day sweep of the tristate area (and at least one ill-advised lookalike contest), the alleged gunman, 26-year-old Luigi Mangione, was apprehended having lunch at an Altoona McDonald’s, and the internet promptly erupted into backstory sleuthing, eyebrow comparing and straight-up arousal.
I don’t think any of us are pro assassination. Let me just put that down in writing, because while scrolling the declarations of mug-shot thirst, you’d be mistaken for thinking broad-daylight murder was somehow secondary to a strong jawline. But so many things converge in this story – a fatal shooting, a broken health care system, the radicalisation of a young man of privilege, the internet in detective mode, and plain ol’ sex appeal – that it’s difficult to totally separate the strands.
Ivy League graduate Mangione’s manifesto, discovered on his person at Mickey D’s, relatably bemoans the too-big-and-too-greedy American health care machine. (He reportedly lost family members to illness in recent years, and there’s speculation about the ongoing aftereffects of his lower-back surgery.) His (self-)calling was seemingly to avenge the millions of frustrated Americans brutalised by years of rocket-high expenses to simply get better and stay well. Long before Mangione was unmasked, the announcement of Thompson’s death online was met with hundreds of gloating laughing emojis. (I’m wondering if these commenters felt the death of a figurehead forecasts the fall of the system?) But in general, people sympathised with Mangione’s position… at about the same time they discovered he was hot.
And so emerged the familiar hot-felon narrative – Mangione a bang-able vigilante, an ideal ideologue – and tweets so graphically horny they can’t be quoted. The timeline pivoted sharply from Wicked to Luigi. His Italian-ness. His sweetness. Is he straight? Is he bi? Does he count as an incel? Has Ryan Murphy secured the story rights? Will Dave Franco pick up the phone? Mangione images reigned. Shirtless and blue. Tank topped and Happy Meal-ed. Orange jumpsuited and pensive. I’ve seen him in profile, being led into court by police. I’ve seen his valedictorian speech. For some unfathomable reason, I know he rated The Lorax five stars on Goodreads.
I don’t know what happens next. Are any of us wondering if the guy arrested with the 262-word handwritten manifesto, ghost gun, fake IDs linked to the shooter, and detailed plan to kill a CEO, well, actually killed the CEO? The prosecution and ruling seem like a formality at this point. I’m sure each court date will inspire more thirst, more terminally online proclamations of lust. Regardless of the legal outcome for Mangione, the court of public opinion has apparently made its verdict.
