Why Are We Cheering? The Lindsay Clancy Case Forces America to Confront What We Choose to Celebrate

I watched the public attention surrounding the Lindsay Clancy case, including images of people gathering in support of her, and I found myself asking a difficult question: How did we reach a point in America where a case involving the deaths of three innocent children can produce something that looks almost like a cheering section?

Lindsay Clancy is currently on trial in Massachusetts over the 2023 deaths of her three children, Cora, Dawson and Callan. Her defense does not dispute that she caused their deaths; the central legal question before the jury is whether she was criminally responsible at the time. Her attorneys argue that she was suffering from postpartum psychosis and severe mental illness, while prosecutors contend that she understood what she was doing and deliberately killed the children. As of August 29, 2026, the jury is still deliberating.

That legal distinction matters. A courtroom must examine mental illness, criminal responsibility, intent and the evidence without being controlled by public emotion. Postpartum psychosis is also a serious subject that should not be mocked or dismissed simply because the facts of this particular case are horrifying.

But that is different from what concerns me.

What I do not understand is the transformation of tragedy into spectacle.

There is a difference between believing someone deserves a fair trial and celebrating the person at the center of an unimaginable tragedy. There is a difference between advocating for better mental-health treatment and appearing to forget that three children are dead.

Those children deserve to remain at the center of this story too.

When I see large groups rallying around highly controversial personalities, criminal cases, internet celebrities and sensational stories, I believe it reflects a larger problem in American culture. Too many people are being trained to follow whatever produces the strongest emotional reaction.

Outrage gets attention. Controversy gets clicks. Conflict gets followers. The most shocking personality becomes the next celebrity.

And somewhere along the way, judgment can disappear.

This is one of the reasons I believe our country finds itself in the position it is in today. Too many Americans are following negativity instead of principles. People sometimes choose a side before they understand the facts and then defend that side as though they were defending their favorite sports team.

Everything cannot become entertainment.

A murder trial is not a television series where viewers choose their favorite character.

Political leadership is not professional wrestling.

Social media controversy is not automatically truth.

And repeatedly exposing people to emotionally charged narratives can cross a line from entertainment into something resembling indoctrination—especially when audiences stop questioning what they are being shown.

The danger begins when people lose the ability to say, “I support mental-health treatment, but I also mourn the children.” Or, “I believe in due process, but I am not going to turn tragedy into celebrity.”

Both things can be true.

Clancy's defense has presented testimony that she experienced severe psychiatric symptoms, including claims of postpartum psychosis and hallucinations. Prosecutors have challenged that interpretation and argue that her actions showed planning and an understanding that what she was doing was wrong. The jury—not social media, spectators or television audiences—must decide the question of criminal responsibility under Massachusetts law.

But America has another question to answer for itself:

What are we becoming entertained by?

We should be able to discuss mental illness compassionately without making heroes out of tragedy. We should be capable of supporting a fair justice system without turning defendants into celebrities. And most importantly, we should still possess enough humanity to remember the victims when everybody else is focused on the spectacle.

Cora was five years old.

Dawson was three.

Callan was eight months old.

Whatever verdict the jury ultimately reaches, those three children should never become background characters in somebody else's story.

As Americans, we have to become more careful about what we celebrate, what we normalize and who we choose to follow.

Because when a society becomes more interested in the spectacle surrounding tragedy than the human beings destroyed by it, the problem is no longer limited to one courtroom.

The problem belongs to all of us.