OPINION: What Is Wrong With Us?

Sometimes a story comes along that punches you in the gut—not because it’s unbelievable, but because it’s all too real. The case of Karmelo Anthony, a 17-year-old accused of stabbing another teen to death at a Texas track meet, is one of those stories. But it’s not just the crime that’s disturbing—it’s everything that’s happened since.

Anthony was charged with first-degree murder in the stabbing of Austin Metcalf, reportedly over something as petty as a seat. Originally held on a $1 million bond, Anthony was released after it was reduced to $250,000. And where is he now? Living in a $900,000 gated community home, surrounded by new cars and Amazon deliveries, thanks to more than $440,000 raised online for his “legal defense.”

This is where we are as a society. A teenager accused of murder is not only walking free pending trial but appears to be thriving—funded by a wave of sympathy and digital donations. The line between tragedy and grift has become disturbingly thin.

Technology was supposed to connect us, make us more empathetic, more informed. Instead, it has given us the tools to react instantly and emotionally—without waiting for facts, without demanding accountability, and without asking the hard questions. Platforms like GoFundMe and GiveSendGo were created to lift people up in their darkest moments. Now, they’re often used as financial lifelines for those accused of the darkest crimes.

But Karmelo’s case isn’t an isolated incident. Just this week, CNN aired an interview with journalist Taylor Lorenz, who attempted to explain the growing cult-like obsession with Luigi Mangione—the man accused of assassinating UnitedHealth CEO Brian Thompson. Mangione, arrested for gunning down a corporate executive in broad daylight, has amassed a fan base. Women show up to his court hearings. There are hashtags dedicated to his “handsome” appearance. And Lorenz? She laughed during her interview, saying Mangione seemed like a “morally good man, which is hard to find.”

Read that again: we are now describing accused killers as “morally good,” because they’re young, attractive, and project the illusion of fighting back against a system people dislike.

This isn’t just about criminal cases anymore. It’s about the slow rot in our culture—the way we’ve become so obsessed with narratives and rebellion that we’re willing to excuse or even romanticize horrific violence if it comes in the right package. There’s a disturbing allure to danger now. A disturbing willingness to cast killers as martyrs and victims as footnotes.

It’s also about the justice system failing to respond proportionately. In Karmelo Anthony’s case, a bond meant to reflect the severity of a murder charge was reduced, despite a confession. His family claimed financial hardship while moving into a luxury home. And instead of outrage, a large chunk of the internet rallied around him.

We are watching a society that no longer punishes wrongdoing consistently, that lifts up the accused while forgetting the dead. A society that throws money at cases based on emotion, not truth. And a media class that often legitimizes this behavior with a wink and a shrug.

Where are the standards? Where is the accountability?

We’ve created an ecosystem where image, influence, and virality matter more than justice. Where you can allegedly take a life and still walk into a better one. And if you’re charismatic or controversial enough, someone will likely find a way to call you the hero of your own story—no matter who you hurt along the way.

There’s still time to course correct. But it will require courage. It will require calling out what we’ve come to accept as normal and asking whether it should be. Because if we keep going down this road—where murder is monetized and morality is optional—we’ll be left with a country that no longer remembers what it means to stand for anything at all.