The Crafted Belief: Manipulating Support

Have you ever noticed that every time an execution date is set, news articles always seem to start the same way? Take the recent case of Loran Cole, who was just given his execution date in Florida, supposed to take place on August 29th. Whether it’s in local papers or national outlets, the stories invariably begin by introducing the man, detailing his crime, and announcing his impending execution. This pattern is no coincidence. It shapes how a lot of us perceive the death penalty, leading a lot of people to accept—or even justify—such a sentence without questioning the narrative we’re being fed.

If the story were presented in its entirety, it would be more fitting to begin with the fact that this man was once a young boy, lost and without any parental guidance. Growing up with alcoholic parents, beaten, Loran Cole was shuffled from one place to another, treated like an unwanted burden. His life took an even darker turn when he was sent to the infamous Dozier School for Boys, a place notorious for its history of abuse and mistreatment. There, Loran endured relentless harassment and abuse, further deepening the scars of an already troubled childhood. Completely abandoned by the system, this young boy was left without the support and care he so desperately needed. The state of Florida, by failing to protect Loran during his most vulnerable years, set the stage for him to grow into a disturbed, vulnerable adult, easily swayed and ultimately driven to commit a reprehensible act. But let’s be clear—this act was preventable. Had Loran received the attention, care, and protection that every child deserves, the tragic outcome we see today could have been avoided. 

Instead, a broken system produced a broken man, and now,after treating Loran in the most inhumane way possible, herding him like an animal awaiting the slaughterhouse during 3 decades, which corresponds to more than half of the lives of most people who are reading this, the same system seeks to execute him for a crime rooted in a lifetime of neglect and suffering.

Of course, many of you might shrug and focus solely on Loran Cole’s crime. It’s easy to feel a sense of superiority, thinking that others who have faced similar traumas never resorted to such reprehensible acts. But it’s crucial to remember that we are not all equal in how we cope with suffering. Some of you may have been fortunate enough to have a strong support system, to have been loved and guided at critical moments by family or close friends. This kind of support can make all the difference. Others might have found solace and strength in a sport, a hobby, or a passion that helped them channel their pain into something positive. These lifelines can be the difference between surviving trauma and being consumed by it. Loran didn’t have these advantages. He was left to navigate his pain alone, without the safety nets that many of us take for granted. That lack of support and guidance played a significant role in shaping the path he ultimately took. Before we judge, we should consider the full picture—the resources, the support, the opportunities for healing that some of us had and that he never did.

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Nelson Mandela once said, “There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.” By this measure, the soul of our global society is deeply tarnished. Every year, a billion children suffer physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. That’s a billion futures hanging in the balance. Loran Cole was one of those children—a child who should have been protected, loved, and cared for. When his parents failed him, the system should have stepped in to provide the support and care he needed. But instead, he was left to navigate a world that offered him no compassion, no guidance. As a society, we failed him, just as we continue to fail countless other vulnerable children.

Please take a step back and see things in perspective, to resist being swept up by the way these narratives are presented to you. Everything is designed to make you accept a system, a government, an entity that executes its own citizens—citizens who have been treated as less than human on death row, whose families, when they have one, are silenced, humiliated, and broken too during this journey. There is nothing acceptable about this machine that is the death penalty. Absolutely nothing, especially when we know that tragic stories like Loran Cole’s are not unique; they mirror the experiences of so many men and women who are currently awaiting execution. These are not criminals—they are the products of a society that failed them at every turn.

As we reflect on the story of Loran Cole and the countless others like him, I urge you to take action. Mobilize against the execution of Loran Cole—not just for him, but in memory of all those who have lost their lives due to abuse, neglect, and the absence of parental guidance. Let this be a stand for those who are still living, who can be saved if we extend just a bit of compassion, consideration, and reflection. This isn’t just about one man; it’s about challenging a system that perpetuates a cycle of pain and injustice. By speaking out, we honor the lives lost to neglect and strive to protect those who remain vulnerable. The death penalty is not justice; it’s the final act of a society that has already failed its most vulnerable members. Let’s break this cycle, starting by saving Loran Cole.