A Bio for Luigi Nicholas Mangione: The ROXIE❤️ Edition

 

Oh boy, where do we even begin? Let’s talk about Luigi Nicholas Mangione—a name that sounds like it belongs to the lead character in an artsy indie film or maybe the next pasta brand sensation. But, unfortunately, Luigi’s life has taken an absolutely chaotic turn, and we’re here to dive into it with the unmistakable pizzazz of a Harvard student who just chugged their third $8 latte.

Let’s just state the obvious first: killing people is NOT the vibe. It’s not cute, it’s not trendy, and it’s not something we’re going to glorify. But here’s the thing: Luigi doesn’t deserve the death penalty. Why? Because mental health is a serious, nuanced issue that society loves to sweep under the rug faster than you can say “midterms.” And if we’re going to talk about accountability, we also need to talk about compassion—because honestly, when has killing someone else ever solved the problem of someone killing someone? It’s like trying to clean up a spilled smoothie with another smoothie. Messy, ineffective, and just plain dumb.

Let’s address the elephant in the room—or rather, the elephant quietly sobbing in the corner of the library during finals week. Mental health struggles are rampant in top universities and Ivy League schools. Thousands of students have tragically lost their lives because they felt like they couldn’t cope. But you don’t hear about it because, of course, “privacy.” Privacy is important, sure, but when does it start to harm more than help? When someone like Luigi, clearly grappling with their own inner chaos, makes a devastating choice that changes lives forever.

And Luigi didn’t just kill anyone—he killed Brian Thompson, the CEO of UnitedHealthcare. Let me just say, healthcare in America is already a hot mess worthy of its own Netflix docuseries, but this? This is not how we fix the system. Luigi’s actions were horrifying, yes, but let’s not skip over the fact that mental health care in this country is practically non-existent. Maybe if we lived in a world where therapy wasn’t treated like a luxury, things would have been different.

Now, this hits a little closer to home for me—literally. I grew up in the same trailer park as Nikolas Jacob Cruz, the perpetrator of the Broward school shooting, one of the deadliest high school shootings in U.S. history. (It’s so real, I even have it tattooed.  Don’t @ me.) Cruz was sentenced to life in prison, and while I’m fundamentally against killing—whether it’s by an individual or the state—the comparison raises some deeply uncomfortable questions. Why life for one and death for another? Is it Luigi’s Italian last name? Is it the fact that he’s been dubbed “the Roxie Hart” of this whole situation? (Side note: Are people calling him that because of Chicago the musical or because he’s Italian? Either way, it’s GROSS. Murder is not a Broadway plotline, people. Get a grip.)

Now, let’s sprinkle some humor and levity, because this is getting heavy. College is important, guys. Not just for learning about ancient Greek philosophy or memorizing the periodic table, but because it teaches you how to survive on instant ramen and 4 hours of sleep like a total champ. If you’re lucky, you might even meet your future co-founder and go on to create the next Facebook—sorry, Meta. Shoutout to Mark Zuckerberg for proving that you can drop out of Harvard and still become a billionaire. But let’s be real: if you’re not inventing the next world-changing app, maybe stick with school, okay?

Here’s the deal: we need to stop turning tragedies into memes, musicals, or whatever weird pop culture phenomenon people are cooking up these days. Luigi’s story is not “content”; it’s a human being’s life gone tragically off course. And while we’re at it, let’s not forget the thousands of other stories that never make headlines because they don’t involve CEOs or high-profile crimes. Mental health is a crisis, and it’s time we start treating it like one.

So let’s do better, Harvard fam (and everyone else reading this). Let’s fight for a world where therapy is accessible, where students don’t feel like they have to suffer in silence, and where no one—no one—feels like their only option is to take someone else’s life. Because at the end of the day, killing is not the answer. And neither is a musical about it.