Criminal Defense Lawyer Explains Why She Doesn't Believe Luigi Mangione Wrote His 'Manifesto'
Odd word choices, contradictory turns of phrase… it just doesn't quite add up.
Prostock-studio | Shutterstock The Luigi Mangione story seems to become more convoluted and confusing by the moment, but yesterday, we were finally given a glimpse into what may have motivated the crime he allegedly committed when a so-called "manifesto" attributed to him was revealed.
However, for many, the manifesto only complicated the story even more. The internet is always going to be full of bizarre theories about any story this sensationalized, but in the case of Mangione's supposed manifesto, it's more than the usual crackpots feeling like something is off.
A criminal defense lawyer explained why she doesn't think Luigi Mangione wrote his manifesto.
Mangione's supposed manifesto has struck many as strange, including, in the interest of full disclosure, this writer.
For anyone who's worked in an editorial capacity, it's hard to miss the garden-variety bad writing — writing not at all commensurate with the eloquence with which Mangione posted on his now-deleted X account, for example. That contrast is hard to ignore.
But that's basically a judgment based on "vibes," at the end of the day. Skeptics like attorney Sheila Zolnoor, on the other hand, bring far more salient expertise to bear on the subject — namely, a career in criminal defense and deep experience with law enforcement.
In recent posts on TikTok, Zolnoor said Mangione's supposed manifesto just doesn't add up.
The lawyer suspects Mangione's manifesto was written by law enforcement.
The very opening sentence of Mangione's manifesto is puzzling enough on its own: "To the Feds, I'll keep this short, because I do respect what you do for our country."
Flattering law enforcement? A deep respect for "the Feds?" It's incongruous with basically everything else we know about Mangione so far, as well as with other lines in the manifesto itself.
"They're building a backstory and motivations," Zolnoor said of the manifesto, likening it to a sloppy first draft from a TV writers' room that has been rushed out to the public. Because other parts of the manifesto simply don't make any sense, either.
For example, Mangione's supposed wish to save "the Feds" a "lengthy investigation" by "[stating] plainly that I wasn't working with anyone" doesn't at all line up with his actions.
"To 'save a lengthy investigation,' he would have stayed where he was and waited to be arrested," Zolnoor said. Instead, Mangione fled the scene, then fled New York City after leaving behind confusing breadcrumbs like a backpack full of Monopoly money. It seems like a "lengthy investigation" is exactly what he intended.
The manifesto is also full of bizarre word choices and statements that contradict each other.
To anyone who works as an editor, an English teacher, or any other kind of job that deals regularly with words, one thing is painfully obvious about this manifesto: Whoever wrote it clearly did so with Thesaurus.com open in another tab in an attempt to manufacture a sense of eloquence.
But the writer did so rather ham-fistedly. For instance, the manifesto contains a phrase explaining that Mangioine's plan to assassinate UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson "was fairly trivial: some elementary social engineering, basic CAD, a lot of patience."
It immediately jumped out at me, and to Zolnoor too, that this use of "trivial" is not what the word actually means. "Trivial" does not mean "simple" or "easy." It means unimportant, or frivolous. If the man who murdered Thompson felt his act was unimportant or frivolous he presumably wouldn't have done it in the first place.
There are other examples too. Mangione's reference to "straggling notes" in his notebook is awkward because that's just not how the word "straggling" is used. As Zolnoor more pithily put it, "wtf are 'straggling notes'?"
To her it all adds up to a suspicion that police were trying to manufacture what they thought a fancy, Ivy League-educated rich kid might sound like and missing the mark pretty badly.
It's possible, of course, that Mangione just made a series of bad editorial calls, but again — that is not aligned with what we know of him as a communicator from his social media presence. These are not the kind of errors a person with his command of language would plausibly make.
Two other glaring discrepancies are even more telling. The passage, "I do apologize for any strife or traumas, but it had to be done. Frankly, these parasites simply had it coming," is not just bad writing. It contradicts itself. Why would someone who calls insurance executives "parasites" and believes them to be so evil they deserve to be murdered bother apologizing for doing so? It's incoherent.
Most revealing of all, however, is the manifesto's reference to "social engineering," which implies Mangione had embarked on some process of cultivating public support that simply did not happen. Mangione had been radio silent both on social media and in his personal life for so long before his alleged crime that his mother reported him missing last month.
Zolnoor pointed out that the implied timing also doesn't make any sense. "A manifesto is written ahead of the act in case you get caught," she said. "This is written by someone who knows that social media is behind him" — that is, after the fact.
To her, it adds up to only one plausible explanation: "This is written by cops who know that social media is behind him."
Many now wonder if Mangione's recent comments to the press were in reference to these discrepancies.
Clips of Mangione being taken into the Blair County Courthouse near Altoona, Pennsylvania, immediately went viral because they contained Mangione's first public comments. When he turned to the assembled press, he yelled about something, presumably the case being mounted against him, as being "completely out of touch and an insult to the intelligence of the American people."
Given how bizarre the manifesto attributed to him is, many have come to wonder if this cryptic quote is a reference to the manifesto having been manufactured on his behalf.
It's also notable that Mangione claimed in his first court appearance that a key piece of evidence was planted on him: $8,000 in cash, which authorities say indicates he was evading police.
Mangione says he has no idea how the currency ended up in his bag, which is a likely story of course. But it also doesn't jibe with his supposed manifesto. Was he trying to "save [law enforcement] a lengthy investigation"? Or was he trying to flee the police with the stack of cash in his bag? These two things are pretty much at odds.
This all lands in a pretty eyebrow-raising context. First, the way powerful people in business and government seem panicked about the class rage and solidarity the crime has inspired among working people.
Then, in recent days, an utterly bizarre backlash has erupted on platforms like X, where mainstream liberal, centrist, and right-wing commentators have been posting impassioned defenses of health insurance companies and extolling the virtues of the American healthcare system.
Perhaps this abrupt, whiplash-inducing shift in public opinion is simply an organic response to a shocking event. But you'd be forgiven for thinking it stinks an awful lot like a coordinated propaganda campaign.
None of this necessarily adds up to Mangione being framed as the man who killed Brian Thompson, of course. Regardless, it's hard not to feel like there's a whole lot more to this case than meets the eye — and to wonder whether it will someday join the long list of shocking historical events that were once just conspiracy theories dismissed out of hand.
John Sundholm is a writer, editor, and video personality with 20 years of experience in media and entertainment. He covers culture, mental health, and human interest topics.