Warrior Jesus and a Letter from Luigi
How an exchange between Mangione and the mother of a sick child challenges the mainstream narrative about the accused CEO shooter's supporters
Those of you who have followed the Luigi Mangione case are probably aware of the enormous interest among his supporters in getting letters to him as he awaits trial. He has also made a public statement indicating that he enjoys getting these letters.
Some of the interest comes from the usual places—heavy media coverage, empathy for the incarcerated, sympathy for a “cause” the suspect is seen to have embodied. Some comes from an undeniably parasocial impulse, something that should not be seen as unusual in such circumstances. Many, if not most, high-profile criminal cases provoke parasocial activity.
As expected, of course, the mainstream media has interpreted Mangione’s letter-writing fans as “flocks of twisted young women” and a “besotted bevy,” with the New York Post going all in on the sexist spin. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, this framing is intentionally designed by corporate-owned media to distract from the socioeconomic and political issues raised by the events of December 4th.
While I find it hard to understand why women would “fall in love” with Ted Bundy, I think it’s obvious why Luigi Mangione has turned so many people into limerent, lovesick fools. And it’s not even about his looks.
Well, yes, it’s about his perceived level of attractiveness, no doubt, but that alone wouldn’t explain the feverish discussion of whether he’s doing okay, whether he’s getting enough to eat, if his relationship with his parents is okay, if his back hurts, etc..
As I’ve argued in other posts, the alleged actions of Luigi Mangione can be seen through the lens of evolutionary theory, an admittedly fraught discipline but one that can evoke powerful recognition in many people. Acting as a norms-enforcer at a time when the non-reciprocators in our society have stolen from the common cache, grown fat off it while contributing nothing, and even engaged in machinations to get an even larger share for themselves while others suffer, Mangione’s alleged actions can easily be seen to some as “heroic,” even if that perception is largely unconscious.
There are few feelings more powerful than gratitude for having been protected, unless it’s having been made to feel one is worth protecting. I believe many of Mangione’s supporters interpreted his alleged actions as an act of protection against an industry that commits social murder without repercussion, and is even rewarded for it.
At a time when those harmed by the health insurance industry have been ignored and dismissed, such recognition of suffering is powerful stuff. For that recognition to include seeming “self-sacrifice” on behalf of the suffering—well, it’s easy to see why some people are a little intense about Luigi Mangione.
That intensity comes into play for this post because I’ve been given permission by a reader, Karen1, to share a letter she received from Mangione in late December 2024, in response to a letter she sent him.
Karen and I spent quite some time discussing whether to share the actual letter here on Bartleby on Trial, or whether it would be wiser, given the fraught social media environment surrounding anything Mangione, for me to simply summarize it. Obviously, as a journalist, it’s far better for me to be able to share the letter than ask my readers to simply trust me that the letter is legit. But this was Karen’s decision to make, not mine.
There is vigilance in the social media spheres, where the majority of “Luigi Love” is transacted, over Mangione’s “right to privacy,” the main reason offered by those who have received responses for not sharing their letters. However, it’s unlikely that Mangione doesn’t understand that any response he may send to a stranger sending him a letter may be offered for public consumption. I’m sure he answers letters with full knowledge of this fact.
In the end, Karen felt that if I didn’t publish the letter, questions of credibility could distract from the conversation, so she agreed to share the letter in full. She also graciously agreed to let me share her personal story and what moved her to write to Mangione in the first place.
“I am 66, so I'm a last-wave boomer,” Karen told me, “and I've been living ‘the personal is political’ for as long as I had consciousness of what it meant.”
These facts—her age, her political history, her worldview—reveal something important about the public response to Mangione, something the mainstream press is not covering, but which I had begun to notice in footage of protests outside the courthouse.
It’s this: although the ruling class would have us believe that the only people who connect with or care about Luigi Mangione are young women, the truth is that older people have connected with him, too. And, I’d argue, in a substantively different way.
They connect because they have had a lifetime of experience with the social crimes committed by a capitalism-on-steroids society, in which healthcare is a for-profit enterprise and a quarterly profit earned by harming people is rewarded. They have years of bitter experience dealing with claims denials for themselves, for their elderly parents, for their children. And yet, until December 4th, that struggle was isolating and invisible.
Karen is no exception to this. Her daughter struggles with a rare, life-threatening disease that requires constant care and medical treatment. When a treatment was prescribed by her medical team, United Healthcare immediately and peremptorily denied the claim. Their explanations for the denial seemed to make no sense; the company seemed to think the doctors were trying to treat an entirely different illness. Karen suspected her appeals weren’t read by a human being (and considering the fact that Brian Thompson oversaw the use of AI for claims denial, with a known 90% error rate, she’s probably right).
Karen embarked on all the avenues to appeal we’re given by our health insurers, a journey that came with the same frustration, anger, and disgust we all feel when trying to deal with our health insurers. This took time. A lot of time. So that by January 2024, her daughter had fallen into full catatonia, one of the most serious aspects of her disease.
Of course, she had to be hospitalized because she could not care for herself. She needed help eating, drinking, and using the bathroom. She couldn’t speak. She was recommended for another procedure, but would have to wait eight weeks because there were so many patients scheduled ahead of her.
Karen spent hours and hours fighting UHC. Because her insurance came through an employee-funded plan, she was told by the Department of Labor that UHC doesn’t have to follow “typical rules” for appeals and grievances. It wasn’t until she got in touch with the Assistant Chief Investigator of the Appeals and Grievance Unit for her state’s insurance administration that her daughter was finally approved for the original prescribed treatment.
In a note to me, Karen said that her daughter
spent 60 nights hospitalized in the course of one year. That means I spent 60 nights, too, as I board with her. What she and I went through as a result of insurance calling the shots rather than the doctors is a horrible story for another time. She is improving, but hardly close to her old self. I refer to UHC as ‘those white collar criminals’ whenever discussing them and vowed to fight for reform for the rest of my life.
Ten months later, Luigi Mangione was arrested for the murder of Brian Thompson. It wasn’t until Karen saw the infamous perp walk that something clicked inside of her. “I saw that the ruling class was absolutely terrified of us, and that sent a bolt of energy through me like nothing ever has (except maybe motherhood).”
That’s when Karen decided to send Mangione a letter. “I felt very weird about it,” she told me. “Driven by some force that didn’t make sense but couldn’t be ignored.”
In that letter, she included an image that I had never seen before, but which I find fascinating. The actual image she sent Mangione is reproduced below.
This is the Christ in Majesty mosaic at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C.. Karen referred to it as “Warrior Jesus.” She wasn’t even sure why she included it in her letter—she’d never been one to hold on to pictures of saints. It certainly wasn’t meant to suggest a parallel; if anything, it was meant to be a comfort.
In her letter, she briefly told Mangione about her daughter’s medical struggles and how UHC had worked overtime to deny her daughter necessary medical care, and how those delays worsened her daughter’s health dramatically. She added, “I will never forget you, and I will keep up the fight in your name.”
It’s worth pausing here for a moment to consider, once again, the idea that’s been foisted upon the public about the average Mangione supporter. According to the media, that person is “twisted,” is “fawning” over Mangione, is a “goo-goo eyed groupie.”
A supporter like Karen is ignored. That’s because she’s dangerous. Here is a person who has a lived experience with a for-profit health insurer that makes money off denying care to people like Karen’s daughter. She’s experienced the cruelty of United Healthcare’s approach to its customers firsthand. It’s a lot harder to dismiss someone like this than it is an anonymous Redditor who wonders aloud about Mangione’s sexual proclivities, isn’t it?
So it’s no wonder we haven’t seen older Mangione supporters profiled. It’s not that younger supporters don’t have these experiences; it’s just that older supporters are more likely to have had more of them, and more likely to have also experienced the excruciating pain of watching a child suffer because an insurance company is trying to make a couple extra bucks.
A few days after sending the letter to Mangione, Karen’s daughter was back in the hospital. This time, things were a little different. Since the events of December 4th, and the emergence of countless stories from a public that had been traumatized by the insurance industry, Karen’s perspective had changed. “I stopped groveling in gratitude that I even had health insurance once I realized how much money those bastards make on us,” she told me.
Now, instead of despair and anger, Karen was “on fire in that hospital, supporting nurses and doctors, telling them that a change was surely coming, doing my part to beat the fucking system and uphold those still able to function within it.”
The night her daughter was discharged, and eight days after she’d sent her letter, Karen received a response from Mangione. With her permission, I’ve included an image of the letter below.
The letter from Mangione expresses deep sympathy for what “you and your daughter so senselessly had to endure.” He shares that her letter was the first one that made him “tear up.”
His response to Karen’s inclusion of the “Warrior Jesus” picture is to ask her to please send it again, via “FreePrints,” because the images come to him photocopied and blurred.
If you are able to send a photo of you/your daughter or the mosaic, it would mean a great deal to me. I will put it up on my prison cell wall next to your letter.
He adds that Karen’s daughter is “blessed to have a mother who loves her so much and fights for her so relentlessly.”
Karen did, in fact, send Mangione the image via FreePrints, along with a photo of herself and her daughter, as requested.
I have a couple of thoughts on the letter. First, I think it’s rather remarkable that Karen’s letter made it through the prison censors with its mention of United Healthcare. That may be because late December 2024 was still early days in this saga. It may be that whoever was vetting the letters wasn’t paying attention. It may be that censorship guidance didn’t include any mention of UHC at that point.
Second, I found Mangione’s empathy-driven response notable. To me it reads as genuine feeling. His ability to articulate his empathy—to, in fact, make the letter writer the focus of his response—is unusual to see in a young man of his age and background (my opinion).
Finally, he was clearly struck by the “Warrior Jesus” mosaic image Karen included with her letter. We don’t have confirmed information on Mangione’s personal religious beliefs (though we do know that his family has donated millions to different Catholic causes and charities, according to the Baltimore Sun), so we have no way of guessing what about the image resonated with him. However, he clearly valued it enough to ask for a better copy of it.
In describing the Christ in Majesty mosaic, the Basilica says, “While one of His eyebrows is raised in judgment, the other is relaxed, revealing his mercy and kindness to his Children.” The Basilica also states that the Scriptural inspiration for the mosaic (the artist is John de Rosen), comes from Isaiah 63:1
“Who is this that comes from Edom,
in crimsoned garments, from Bozrah?
Who is this, glorious in his apparel,
striding in the greatness of his strength?
‘It is I, I who announce vindication,
mighty to save.’”
It’s interesting to both ponder these lines and consider how this visual depiction of judgment mixed with empathy might have spoken to Luigi Mangione.
I share Karen’s story for two reasons. One, because I think the exchange between Karen and Luigi Mangione offers an interesting, if very brief, look at Mangione’s personality. It strikes a different tone from the handful of published letters his supporters have shared, which have mainly included Mangione’s gratitude for the letter writer’s concern and surface-level commentary on other topics the author mentioned.
But the more important reason I’ve shared this story is because it’s critical that we push back against the dominant media narrative that the public support for Mangione begins and ends with “twisted” women and “besotted” bimbos. It’s an intentional counter-narrative designed to efface the real narrative because that narrative is dangerous.
The truth is that there are a lot of gray heads in those protests outside the courthouse. There are a lot of parents who’ve taken years off their lives navigating phone trees and filling out forms in duplicate and triplicate because their child desperately needs care that their insurance company has denied them. There are many people whose vague feelings of anger at a society dominated by non-reciprocators who leech off the rest of us were suddenly clarified by what happened on December 4th.
Karen said that Luigi Mangione inspired her “with what Bishop Marianne Budde2 [quoting Howard Thurman] called ‘the sound of the genuine.’ [Budde] says it’s a
“‘sense of empowerment that is bigger than we are and can work through us in ways that astonish us. We can’t control it. We can’t evoke it on command, but it’s real, and we can count on it, and it allows us to do extraordinary things. When we do it together, then we can move mountains that seemed immovable before.’
To Karen, Luigi Mangione changed the world so we could move mountains.
To protect her privacy, I am only using Karen’s first name.
Budde delivered the post-inauguration sermon before Donald Trump, in which she cited Scripture in asking Trump to show mercy to immigrants, migrants, and other vulnerable populations. Trump later demanded an apology for her “radical left” and “nasty” tone. He’s still waiting. No word on whether he demanded an apology from Jesus, whose words Budde was citing.
“It wasn’t until Karen saw the infamous perp walk that something clicked inside of her. “I saw that the ruling class was absolutely terrified of us, and that sent a bolt of energy through me like nothing ever has (except maybe motherhood).”
That’s when Karen decided to send Mangione a letter. “I felt very weird about it,” she told me. “Driven by some force that didn’t make sense but couldn’t be ignored.” This resonated so much with me, Gen X. Not young. Not goo goo about anything.
His compassionate/empathic words are Huge in heart. It confirms what we feel from him, what we know of him. I don't think this confirms or denies the sh**ting or not, but confirms how attentive and intelligent he is. His care for others and the world is not fake. Thank you for this piece and to Luigi.