Deep Red Bells — Neko Case
#365Songs: December 12th
He led you to this hiding place
His lightning threats spun silver tongues
The red bells beckon you to ride
A handprint on the driver’s side
It looks a lot like engine oil and tastes like being poor and small
And Popsicles in the summer
Gary Ridgway, also known as the The Green River Killer, was one of the most prolific serial killers in American history. He claimed that he killed close to 80 women between 1982 and 1998. In 2003, he pleaded guilty to murdering 48 in total, most of whom were classified as vulnerable — sex workers, runaways, lone travelers on the Pacific Highway South.
Nobody called Gary Ridgway handsome or “too hot to convict.”
Deep red bells, deep as I’ve been done
Deep red bells, deep as I’ve been done
Like the rest of us, I’ve been fairly captivated by the Luigi Mangione discourse. There’s just too many threads to follow in this story, from the universal disdain for insurers to the absence of empathy for the slain CEO, from the ease of the assassination and celebration of vigilante behavior to the socio-demographics of the assassin. At the center of the story is a real gripe, laid out rather effectively in a lengthy and at times polite manifesto, about the cold, often deadly profiteering at the center of the insurer’s business practices. Not that any of that condones a cold-blooded murder, but Mangione has sparked the exact conversation he seemingly hoped to with his actions. Problem is, all that’s gotten lost in our collective obsession with his bright smile, curly hair, and six-pack abs.
It’s almost as if a confident handsome wealthy man can get away with murder in this country. Go figure.
Sadly, this isn’t new territory. In 2009, Chris Brown was arrested for viciously assaulting his girlfriend, Rihanna. Two major pop stars in the spotlight of a gruesome story. A few years later he was back on the Grammy stage, celebrated as if nothing had happened. The Twitter trending topics that night included a much publicized “Chris Brown can beat me anytime.”
More recently, in 2019, the Netflix docu-series on Ted Bundy left viewers skipping over the rapes, kidnappings, and three dozen murders to remark instead on his hotness. And sure, he was a damn fine looking fella, which is exactly how he lured his victims — and yet, we missed that message, too. Netflix isn’t exactly our moral center these days, and even they were shaken enough to make a statement. “I’ve seen a lot of talk about Ted Bundy’s alleged hotness and would like to gently remind everyone that there are literally THOUSANDS of hot men on the service — almost all of whom are not convicted serial murderers.”
It always has to come this
Red bells ring this tragic hour
We’ve lost sight of the overpass
The daylight won’t remember that
When speckled fronds raise round your bones
Who took the time to fold your clothes
And the Valley of the Shadow
There’s something particularly 2024 about this Mangione situation, the way we’ve rallied to turn him into an instant folk hero, a Robin Hood with better abs. There are fan cams, viral memes, and endless thirst tweets. Even his Tinder profile is being shared like celebrity gossip.
Y’all, this is a dark ass story and we’re missing every possible point. The collective rage against our health care system is long overdue, and despite Mangione’s chosen means of expressing rage, he did draw out just how unified we are on this issue. And, the more we learn, the more we see how quickly radicalized he became, how fast and far he spiraled, the depths to which he removed himself from civil society so obsessed he was with seeking vengeance. He’s your neighbor, your former classmate, your cousin. How quickly we lose people to rabbit holes, conspiracy theories, institutional disenchantment so severe anything is possible. Hell, even the charming valedictorian turned into an assassin in this post-capitalistic society that has lost its goddamn humanity.
All that’s lost because he also happens to be attractive.
Deep red bells, deep as I’ve been done
Deep red bells, deep as I’ve been done
Where does this mean world cast its cold eye
Who’s left to suffer long about you
Does your soul cast about like an old paper bag
Past empty lots and early graves
Those like you who lost their way
Murdered on the interstate
While the red bells rang like thunder
The New York Times called it the “halo effect” — our tendency to equate innocence with attractiveness. But it’s more than that. It’s about how we use beauty as a moral currency, how we’ve somehow decided that a square jaw and good bone structure can offset the weight of horrific actions. Already, there are calls for Dave Franco to play Mangione in the inevitable Netflix adaptation, as if this story needs the extra polish of Hollywood casting.
Listen, I understand that we need to find some levity these days, and big cultural conversations give us all a momentary sense of connection — together focused on one topic, one-up’ing one another, attention seeking in the white noise of post-sanity social media. But this shit has real world consequences. Stop acting surprised that sociopaths are charming and attractive. That’s how they gain power over you, how they exploit you, and for fuck sake you’ve watched enough Netflix to know these stories never end well.
Deep red bells, deep as I’ve been done
Deep red bells, deep as I’ve been done
~
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