In the past two years, two high-profile cases have dominated the public discourse in America—cases that speak volumes about the fault lines in our society. One involves Daniel Penny, a former U.S. Marine Corps veteran, who was acquitted in the death of Jordan Neely, a mentally ill Black man who was reportedly threatening passengers on a subway. The other involves Luigi Mangione, a 26-year-old Ivy League graduate who is facing charges for the murder of Brian Thompson, the CEO of UnitedHealthcare (the insurance arm of UnitedHealthcare Group), due to his disdain for the healthcare system. The two cases have drawn a striking parallel in public discourse: both men have been labeled as vigilantes, individuals who, according to some, took justice into their own hands. But is it truly fair to compare the two? What does this parallel reveal about the complexities of vigilantism in modern America?
On the surface, both Daniel Penny and Luigi Mangione share a common label: vigilantes. Penny, who applied a chokehold to Neely on a subway in 2023, argued that he was acting in self-defense against a man he believed to be a threat to the passengers on that New York City subway. Mangione, on the other hand, allegedly killed Thompson, a CEO of a major corporation, because he believed that corporate greed within the healthcare system had ruined his life and the lives of many others. But despite this superficial similarity, the comparison between Penny’s reckless act and Mangione’s politically motivated act is fraught with contradictions, and it raises the question: can the same label—vigilante—rightfully apply to both?
Daniel Penny’s case revolves around a moment of recklessness that ended in tragedy. Penny, trained in martial arts during his time in the Marine Corps, applied a chokehold to Neely, who was reportedly behaving erratically on the subway. In a widely circulated video, Penny is seen holding Neely in a chokehold for several minutes, even after the man stopped moving. Penny’s defense was that Neely was a threat, but Neely was unarmed and did not physically harm anyone. Penny’s decision to take matters into his own hands wasn’t motivated by a desire for justice but by an irrational fear and an overreaction to Neely’s words. Neely, a homeless, mentally ill Black man, had no weapon and no means to physically harm anyone at that moment. Yet, Penny saw him as a threat simply because of his words and behavior. This act of violence was reckless and a tragic example of how racial biases and fear can lead to deadly consequences.
In contrast, Luigi Mangione’s act of violence was premeditated and politically charged. Mangione allegedly shot and killed Brian Thompson outside a New York City hotel because he saw Thompson as a symbol of the corrupt healthcare system that, according to Mangione, had caused him personal and financial harm. Mangione’s anti-capitalist ideology is evident in the notes found in his notebook, where he writes about his disdain for the corporate world and expresses his intention to target Thompson, who represented the very system he despised. Mangione’s motive was not an irrational fear of a person, but rather a calculated response to an oppressive system. His crime was rooted in his belief that he could right a wrong by taking justice into his own hands. He was not acting out of panic or a rash decision, but rather out of anger, frustration, and a desire for revenge against an institution he saw as broken and unjust.
Here lies the stark difference: Penny’s act was one of reckless violence fueled by fear and racial bias, while Mangione’s act was one of calculated violence driven by a deep ideological belief that the system he lived in had failed him. Penny killed a Black man who had no weapon, whose only crime was being mentally ill and homeless, while Mangione killed a powerful CEO, hoping to send a message about the oppression of the healthcare system. Penny’s case highlights the dangers of racial prejudice and how white fear can manifest in life-or-death consequences. Mangione’s case, on the other hand, brings attention to the deep anger and frustration many Americans feel toward a system that seems to only benefit the wealthy, particularly in the realm of healthcare.
The public’s perception of these two cases is telling. Many views Daniel Penny as a “good guy” who was simply trying to protect himself and others. Others, however, view his actions as a stark example of police-like brutality and the excesses of the American military ethos. Mangione, on the other hand, has been portrayed as a man driven by his disillusionment with corporate greed and injustice. But the question remains: are these two cases truly comparable? Is there room for vigilantism in a society that prides itself on the rule of law? Can we, as a nation, draw a line between recklessness and ideological protest when it comes to taking another life?
Both Penny and Mangione have been labeled as vigilantes, but the true nature of their actions reveals much more about the systems they were reacting against than about the individuals themselves. While Penny acted out of fear, Mangione acted out of ideological conviction. Yet, the public seem to treat these cases as though they are one and the same. How can we reconcile this disparity? How can we judge one man for the reckless use of force and another for the calculated destruction of a symbol of corporate power, especially when both acts of violence stem from feelings of powerlessness in a world that often seems unjust? The last question seems plausible in Luigi’s case. But in the case of Penny, who was acquitted of all charges and found ‘not guilty’ in the eyes of the law, can he truly be asked the same question? Because although both were called vigilantes, one seems to fit the mold while the other doesn’t. Therefore, can one truly equate both cases?
