A Large Percentage of Americans Want the United Healthcare CEO Killer to Get Away With It

By Michael Kelman Portney

Move over, Ted Bundy—there’s a new charming alleged killer in town, and his name is… well, we don’t know it yet, but what does it say about a country when the alleged murderer of a healthcare CEO becomes a folk hero before he’s even caught? What does it say when a single surveillance photo—featuring the accused smiling and flirting at a hostel front desk—generates more intrigue and sympathy than outrage?

It says a lot.

It says we’ve reached a point in America where the systems we rely on—the ones we’re told are there to protect us—feel so broken that someone taking extreme, violent action against them is met not with horror, but with relief. It says we’ve become so desensitized, so angry, so resigned, that a killer with a good smile can feel like a morally ambiguous Robin Hood.

But most of all, it says we’re a country that doesn’t know how to process its own despair.

The Roots of Our Apathy

Let’s start with the obvious: Brian Thompson wasn’t just a random CEO. As the head of UnitedHealthcare, he represented a system that, to many Americans, feels fundamentally cruel. High deductibles, denied claims, endless paperwork—these aren’t just inconveniences. They’re the difference between life and death for countless people. And for years, Thompson was the face of that system, a man whose decisions impacted millions, often negatively.

So when he was murdered in cold blood, the reaction wasn’t universal condemnation. Instead, a significant portion of the public shrugged, cracked a joke, or even quietly cheered. Not because people support murder—but because they’ve been conditioned to see people like Thompson as villains in their own lives.

And when the alleged killer turned out to be handsome, smiling, and charismatic? That reaction didn’t soften; it intensified.

Charisma in the Age of Discontent

The truth is, we love a good antihero. From Walter White to Joe Exotic, America has a long history of glorifying people who are charming, deeply flawed, and willing to break the rules. Why? Because they do what we can’t. They fight back against systems we feel powerless to change.

The alleged UnitedHealthcare killer has stepped into that role, whether he wanted to or not. With his easy grin and approachable demeanor, he’s become a stand-in for every frustrated, angry person who’s ever been told, “Sorry, your insurance won’t cover that.” His actions may be indefensible, but they’re also understandable in a way that makes people deeply uncomfortable.

And in a country where healthcare is a nightmare, where corporations are untouchable, and where most people feel voiceless, it’s no wonder some see him as a symbol rather than a criminal.

What Does This Say About Us?

If we’re being honest, it doesn’t say anything good.

It says that we’ve reached a point where morality feels secondary to desperation. Where people are so fed up with injustice that they’re willing to overlook murder if it means someone—anyone—is holding the system accountable.

It says that we’re living in a country where we’ve been desensitized by years of bad news, corruption, and corporate greed. Where the line between villain and hero has blurred so much that a man with engraved shell casings and a killer smile can become the protagonist of our collective daydreams.

It says that America isn’t just broken—it’s exhausted. And when you’re exhausted, you stop caring about the rules.

The Bigger Picture

None of this excuses the crime. Murder is still murder, no matter how charismatic the killer may be. But the fact that so many people feel ambivalent—or even supportive—of this man’s actions says more about the state of the country than it does about him.

We’re a nation of contradictions: outraged by injustice but paralyzed to fix it. Tired of being exploited but unwilling to burn it all down. Hungry for change but unsure of what that even looks like anymore.

So we latch onto stories like this one. We project our anger and our helplessness onto a man who, for better or worse, became a symbol of defiance. And we do it not because it’s right, but because it’s the only thing that feels satisfying in a world where justice is rarely served.

What Happens Now?

The alleged killer will likely be caught, tried, and convicted. The headlines will fade, and the outrage—or admiration—will shift to the next big story. But the underlying issues won’t go away.

The healthcare system will remain broken. Corporate greed will continue to thrive. And millions of Americans will keep feeling like they’re stuck in a system that values profits over people.

And unless we address those problems head-on, we’ll keep finding ourselves in this cycle: mourning the victims, cheering the villains, and wondering what it says about us that we’re doing both at the same time.

Because if nothing else, this story has made one thing clear: the real sickness isn’t the healthcare system. It’s the apathy it’s bred in all of us.