Murder for the Masses

How Tragedy Becomes Content

I knew it was coming the moment I saw the CCTV footage of the shooter pointing his gun at Brian Thompson. I think I even yelled at the TV, “Don’t show it!” Thankfully, the news media exercised some restraint, choosing not to air the moment of his murder. But for me—and likely for many others—the damage was already done.

Just like clockwork, the New York Post published a story today (I’m not going to link it) with the inevitable comparison of Alison and Thompson’s assassinations, complete with tabloid photos of Alison’s last moments on Earth—images I have been unable to avoid despite my best efforts. Those photos, coupled with the endless loops of Luigi Mangione raising his gun just before taking Thompson’s life, transported me back to that awful day more than nine years ago. It triggered an emotional replay of what I went through as a father when Alison was murdered.

This reaction isn’t unique to me. It’s the grim reality for every survivor or parent of a shooting victim. We live in a world where these images and videos are dredged up repeatedly, reopening wounds that will never fully heal. My heart breaks for the Thompson family. They’ve now joined the tragic fraternity of those who’ve had to witness their worst nightmare played out on a public stage.

I understand the supposed news value of these harrowing moments. I’ve had nearly a decade to grapple with the media’s justification for showing them: the argument that the public needs to see the unvarnished horror to spark change. But when it comes to Alison’s murder, that justification rings hollow. The video of her execution—captured in real-time by her killer—continues to circulate on platforms like Meta and YouTube.

Let me be clear: this is not about journalism or the public’s right to know. This is about the tech billionaires who profit from trauma. Alison’s murder still generates clicks and ad revenue on shitweasel Mark Zuckerberg’s Meta and on YouTube, a platform shaped by Susan Wojcicki’s sociopathic disregard for decency. I won’t mince words: Wojcicki may have passed away, but her legacy is one of amplifying human suffering for profit. She deserves a special place in hell.

What I’ve come to realize over the years is that our society has normalized the commodification of death. We’ve allowed tech giants to turn the worst moments of people’s lives into endless content. The Thompson family is now facing what my family has endured for nearly a decade: knowing that the murder of their loved one is not just a tragedy but a product for consumption.

This should not be the price of living in the digital age. You’ve heard me say it countless times: it’s time we demand accountability from these platforms. Because as long as videos like these remain online, the pain of families like mine—and now the Thompsons—will never fade. We deserve better.