Across the street from the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse, where a crowd of protesters stood behind metal barricades, the chanting began just before 9 a.m. Leading the call and response was a Black man wearing jeans, a basketball jersey, and the signature green hat worn by Luigi, the Nintendo character from the Super Mario Bros. video games.

“No more deaths by denial!” he yelled.

“Put the system on trial!” the protesters yelled back.

“Corporate greed we must fight!”

“Health care is a human right!”

The man in the Luigi hat was Jonni Gartrelle, a New Yorker who moved back to the city from Miami last fall. At 36, he’d been involved in numerous activist causes, spending much of 2024 fighting alongside Planned Parenthood on a campaign to end Florida’s six-week abortion ban. But this was his first protest in support of Luigi Mangione, the accused killer of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson. The crime had struck a nerve. “He could be any of us,” Gartrelle later told me. “Each of us has a reason why this could be us.”

“Each of us has a reason why this could be us.”

It was Tuesday, September 16, and Mangione was soon due to appear at the courthouse across the street. The 27-year-old faced first-degree murder charges in New York’s state and federal courts. In the former, Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg had charged Mangione under the state’s terrorism law, which carried a life sentence. In the Southern District of New York, the Trump administration was seeking the death penalty.

Prosecutors cast Mangione as a cold-blooded killer who stalked and murdered Thompson in a brazen act of violence, shooting him outside the Midtown hotel where he was attending a shareholders conference last December. Surveillance footage of the killing circulated online, captivating and horrifying people across the country. But by the time Mangione was apprehended five days later, he had become a folk hero to countless Americans, who viewed the act of vigilante justice as a necessary wake-up call about the greed and cruelty of the U.S. health insurance industry.

He was also something of a heartthrob. On the sidewalk outside the courthouse, where people had been camped out since the night before, one protester wore a T-shirt that said “Cougars for Luigi.” A younger woman, clad in a floral tiara and a pink top reading “I Heart Italian Boys,” eagerly told reporters that she was in an AI relationship with Mangione. She showed me messages exchanged with a chatbot engineered in his likeness. “Just made my case for appeal,” the AI had written to her. “And my case for marrying you.”

A hand-painted “Luigi Before Parasites” banner is displayed in front of the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse, where Mangione appeared for a pretrial hearing on Sept. 16, 2025. Mangione, 27, faces murder charges in state and federal court for killing UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson in December 2024. Photo: Liliana Segura

Among pundits and commentators, the outpouring of support for Mangione has been with a mix of fascination, bemusement, and disgust. Many argue that Mangione would never have attracted so much attention if not for his good looks. But to protesters like Gartrelle, this is both short-sighted and misogynistic. “Whenever there is a social justice movement, they are overwhelmingly supported by women because it’s women who are being victimized by the system,” he said.

Gartrelle joined the protest “because of my background in human rights advocacy and health care.” But it was also personal: “My brother passed away about five years ago. He had epilepsy.” His chronic illness made it hard to hold a job, which in turn prevented him from securing the health insurance he needed for treatment. “My brother was never able to get the care that would have worked for him,” Gartrelle said. “But the point is that no one — not the healthy, not the unhealthy — should have trouble finding a doctor. It should be the easiest thing in the world.”

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Criticisms of the protesters had recently taken a darker turn. The murder of Charlie Kirk in Utah less than a week earlier was triggering new crackdowns on free speech — and a declaration of war on the left by the Trump administration. On the eve of Mangione’s court date, senior White House officials vowed to destroy “terrorist networks” of left-wing extremists, a label already attached to Mangione’s supporters by the right-wing press. “There’s a clear ideological continuum between those who rationalize the shooting of a CEO and rationalize the murder and rape of Jews by Palestinian terrorists and rationalize the burning down of cities for ‘social justice,’” a New York Post column argued in the days after Thompson’s murder. The White House would later link to that article in Trump’s executive order designating “antifa” as a domestic terrorism organization.

In reality, the scene outside the courthouse reflected a range of motivations and causes. But none was more central than the failures of the American health care system and the rapacious power of corporations that doom sick people to die. “I feel like a lot of people look at protesters and they’re like, ‘Ugh, God, why are they here for a murderer?’” said a young cancer survivor named Nicole, who declined to give her last name. “I feel like a lot of those people live in bubbles. …Yes, killing is wrong. But did anyone tell Brian Thompson that?”

The protest was organized by People Over Profit NYC, which had set up a table with an array of literature. There were flyers with QR codes to donate to Mangione’s legal defense fund and a trifold brochure titled “Getting Away With Murder,” which juxtaposed the billions made by insurance companies alongside profiles of patients who died after being denied care. A stack of postcards addressed to Mangione at Brooklyn’s Metropolitan Detention Center advertised a reading list compiled by the abolitionist group Death Penalty Action. And there was a surprisingly comprehensive newsletter called “The Plot”: 23 stapled pages filled with case updates, articles about the health care industry, and warnings about social media censorship of Mangione-related content.

People Over Profit NYC’s ultimate goal was “to spotlight what we feel should really be on trial, which is the predatory insurance industry.”

Standing in front of the table was 43-year-old Ico Ahyicodae, a Minnesota-based sign language translator and one of POPNYC’s primary spokespeople. Although the group was committed to defending Mangione’s right to a fair trial, its ultimate goal was “to spotlight what we feel should really be on trial, which is the predatory insurance industry,” Ahyicodae said. They were especially intent on sharing the myriad stories of human suffering due to denied medical claims. Through fundraising, the activists had paid for an LED billboard truck to circle the block outside the hearing, displaying testimonials from people who supported their work. “It’s for my son, who committed suicide at the age of 23 last year because Cigna denied coverage for him on a treatment which had been proven effective,” one anonymous donor said.

Outside Luigi Mangione’s Sept. 16, 2025, state court hearing, Ico Ahyicodae, an organizer with People Over Profit NYC, stands next to a homemade prize wheel designed to show how heath insurance companies deny claims for medical treatment. Photo: Liliana Segura

Ahyicodae was constantly brainstorming new ways to engage the public. That morning they had arrived with a huge, homemade prize wheel, available for anyone who wanted to give it a spin. There were two possible outcomes: “DENIED” or “APPROVED BUT…” Participants received a “scenario card” that informed them of their medical diagnosis and the cost of treating it. If a person had cancer, for example, and landed on “APPROVED BUT…” Ahyicodae told them that hopefully the first round of treatment would be effective — but if it wasn’t, “you get to come back and give the wheel another spin.” If the person landed on “Denied,” Ahyicodae handed them a small flyer in the shape of a tombstone reading “RIP.”

The point was to drive home the arbitrariness and human cost of the for-profit health insurance industry. Ahyicodae pointed to people like Forrest VanPatten, who died of cancer at age 50 after his health insurance company denied his treatment, in violation of Michigan law. “You would think that if you break the law and someone dies as a result, that that is murder or manslaughter or something,” Ahyicodae said. But laws designed to punish people like Mangione did not apply to powerful corporations.

Previous protests for Mangione had also attracted health reform activists like Physicians for a National Health Program, which advocates single-payer health care. But no one from the group had come out that day. Members had been previously split about whether to attend the demonstrations. “Many of our members were really against it,” one PNHP activist told Courthouse News Service earlier this year, emphasizing that they did not condone Mangione’s actions. Yet the courthouse protests provided a critical organizing space — a chance to cultivate support for health care reform and legislation like the New York Health Act, which aims to establish a universal health care system in the state. “I think people have been really excited to hear that there is somewhere they can channel their anger.”

“They don’t see us as patients. We’re dollar signs.”

Indeed, most of the protesters I met were not affiliated with any specific group but had been spurred to come downtown by a sense of rage and frustration. Several were health care workers themselves. “I’ve been on both sides,” said a woman named Kay, a nurse of 10 years who said she was charged $15,000 by UnitedHealthcare after undergoing an appendectomy that the company had deemed not “medically necessary.” At work, she cared for patients who were newly diagnosed with diabetes, only to be cut off from the supplies required to manage it. “You need emergency kits, you need basic supplies — and their health insurance won’t cover it,” she said. “They don’t see us as patients. We’re dollar signs.”

Inside the courthouse, the hearing got underway around 9:30 a.m. Magione appeared at the defense table wearing handcuffs and a tan prison uniform. There were a number of defense motions pending before the judge. Mangione’s legal team had argued for months that his right to a fair trial had been repeatedly trampled, from the moment of his arrest in Pennsylvania — where police failed to read him his Miranda rights before questioning him — to the now-infamous perp walk in lower Manhattan, where an orange-jumpsuit-clad Mangione was escorted by a swarm of federal, state, and local law enforcement officers, as well as New York City Mayor Eric Adams himself.

In their zeal to convict Mangione, the defense argued, prosecutors had repeatedly committed misconduct. In an explosive motion filed over the summer, lawyers accused the DA’s office of using underhanded tactics to obtain Mangione’s private health records under false pretenses. “The District Attorney falsely made up a court date,” the lawyers wrote, “and drafted a fraudulent subpoena that if Aetna did not provide documents on that date, it would be in contempt of Court.” The date in question — May 23, 2025 — had been completely made up, the lawyers said. “There was never a court proceeding scheduled for May 23, 2025, nor was there ever a court appearance scheduled for the entire month of May.” The subpoena had not been signed by the judge, as is required by law. Prosecutors “were plainly lying to get the materials as soon as possible.”

An anonymous protester stands in support of Luigi Mangione outside the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse on Sept. 16, 2025. Photo: Liliana Segura

The most pressing defense challenge was aimed at the indictment itself. The DA’s office had charged Mangione with first- and second-degree murder under New York’s terrorism law, which applied, in part, to actions “intended to intimidate or coerce a civilian population.” But this stretched the statute “well beyond its legislative intent,” the lawyers wrote. New York’s Anti-Terrorism Act of 2001, which was passed in a special session after the September 11 attacks, “only intended to apply to a very narrow category of the most serious offenses.” In fact, the New York Court of Appeals “has cautioned against the improper use of this powerful tool, warning that ‘the concept of terrorism has a unique meaning and its implications risk being trivialized if the terminology is applied loosely in situations that do not match our collective understanding of what constitutes a terrorist act.’” By charging Mangione as a terrorist, New York prosecutors had “ignored” this warning.

In a major victory for Mangione, Judge Gregory Carro agreed. In a 12-page order, he threw out the terrorism charges, writing that he did not believe that lawmakers “intended the employees of a company, however large, to constitute a ‘civilian population.’” The Trump administration had not charged Mangione with terrorism, the judge pointed out, “even though the federal terrorism statute served as a model” for New York’s terrorism law. Although state prosecutors had submitted journal entries allegedly written by Mangione “as evidence of terroristic intent,” Carro wrote, the pages did not support their case. “The defendant’s apparent objective, as stated in his writings, was not to threaten, intimidate, or coerce, but rather, to draw attention to what he perceived as the greed of the insurance industry,” he wrote. While prosecutors may have sufficient evidence to prove that Mangione “murdered Brian Thompson in a premeditated and calculated execution,” this did not make him a terrorist.

Outside the courthouse, word immediately spread that the judge had dropped the terrorism charges. A cheer went up among the crowd. Ahyicodae called it “a step in the right direction.” At a time when the terror label was being recklessly weaponized to stifle dissent and free speech, the judge’s decision was a welcome intervention.

Nevertheless, the rhetoric from the White House and its allies has been taking its toll. Ahyicodae, who is nonbinary, admitted that they had been nervous in the days leading up to the hearing. Kirk’s murder had poured fuel on the already incendiary rhetoric on the right. “A lot of the targeting of transgender folks and talking about how trans people are inherently violent, or whatever … I mean, it’s terrifying.”

This echoed what others had told me about coming to the protest that day. One woman who works as a home health care aide said she was worried about her words being manipulated and used against her. Another, holding a sign that said “Heath Over Wealth,” concealed her identity behind a black hoodie, a face mask, and large sunglasses.

Ironically, the Trump administration’s fearmongering may end up threatening its own legal case against Mangione. In the days after the protest, the White House continued its propaganda campaign linking Kirk’s murder to Thompson’s — along with a slew of unrelated acts of violence. In violation of a federal court order to stop publicly discussing the case, multiple Department of Justice employees amplified a clip of Trump telling Fox News that Mangione “shot someone in the back as clear as you’re looking at me,” posted on X by an account deriding Mangione’s “deranged fans.” And on the same day Trump declared “antifa” a terrorist organization, a senior White House staffer told Fox that Mangione was “another self-described so-called anti-fascist that was then celebrated by other self-described anti-fascists, so of course, really communist revolutionaries.”

“The attempts to connect Mr. Mangione with these incidents and paint him as a ‘left wing’ violent extremist are false, prejudicial, and part of a greater political narrative that has no place in any criminal case, especially one where the death penalty is at stake,” defense lawyers wrote to the judge presiding over Mangione’s federal case. The next day, the judge rebuked the Trump administration for its public statements, ordering prosecutors to explain themselves.

Whether they bother to comply is an open question. Under the Trump administration, the narrative is all that matters — and the law is whatever he says it is.

The post The Persistent Push to Depict Luigi Mangione and His Supporters as Terrorists appeared first on The Intercept.

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