Psychiatric Remand is Not a Solution for Mass Violence

Psychiatric Remand is Not a Solution for Mass Violence

A judge orders a former Marine to a state hospital. The media prints the headline. The public breathes a sigh of relief. We tell ourselves the system is finally working because we’ve labeled the monster as "broken" and sent him to the mechanics.

It’s a lie.

Ordering psychiatric treatment for a mass shooter isn't a victory for public safety; it's a bureaucratic white flag. We are witnessing the weaponization of clinical psychology to mask a systemic failure in how we handle the intersection of military trauma, institutional accountability, and criminal intent. By framing mass violence as a purely medical "glitch" to be patched in a locked ward, we aren't preventing the next tragedy. We are just sanitizing the current one.

The Myth of the Madman Monolith

The lazy consensus suggests that every person who pulls a trigger in a crowded space must be insane. It’s a comforting thought. If they are crazy, they aren't like us. If they are crazy, we can "fix" them with a heavy enough dose of Thorazine or a long enough stint in a padded room.

Data from the Violence Project, which maintains a massive database on mass shooters, shows a much more uncomfortable reality. While many perpetrators experience a crisis point, the vast majority do not have a history of psychosis. Most are driven by grievance, radicalization, and a cold, calculated desire for notoriety.

When a court orders psychiatric treatment for a veteran who committed a mass shooting, they are often conflating incompetency to stand trial with insanity. These are not the same thing. Incompetency is a temporary legal status—a pause button. It means the defendant cannot currently assist their lawyer. Treating that "incompetency" isn't about healing a human being; it’s about prepping a human being for the gallows. We aren't solving the "why"; we are just fixing the "how" so the state can proceed with its ritualized punishment.

Military Pedigree and the Trauma Shield

There is a specific, jagged edge to cases involving former Marines or soldiers. The "troubled veteran" trope is the path of least resistance for defense attorneys and lazy journalists alike. It allows us to pivot from "murderer" to "victim of the system" in a single paragraph.

I have spent years looking at the fallout of institutional failures. I have seen how the military-industrial complex washes its hands of "problem" soldiers the moment they receive a discharge paper. But here is the truth nobody wants to say out loud: Being a veteran does not grant you a monopoly on trauma, and trauma does not inevitably lead to a massacre.

When we emphasize the military background as a primary driver of the mental health defense, we do two things:

  1. We stigmatize the millions of veterans who carry their burdens with dignity and zero violence.
  2. We allow the military to escape accountability for how it trains men for violence and then discards them without a transition plan.

Ordering "psychiatric treatment" for a veteran after a shooting is like putting a band-aid on a severed limb. It’s too late. The intervention needed to happen years ago during the out-processing phase, but the state would rather pay for a high-security hospital bed today than a functional support network a decade ago.

The Hospital as a Black Hole

Let’s talk about what "psychiatric treatment" actually looks like in a forensic state hospital. It isn’t the soulful, transformative therapy you see in movies. It is a grueling, soul-crushing cycle of medication management and "legal education."

In many jurisdictions, "treatment" consists of teaching the defendant the roles of the judge, the jury, and the prosecutor so they can be declared fit for trial. It’s a classroom setting. It’s rote memorization. It is a cynical exercise in legal box-ticking.

Imagine a scenario where a man has a legitimate, profound break from reality. He is sent to a state facility. The staff is overworked, underfunded, and the facility is essentially a jail with nurses. He is pumped with enough antipsychotics to make him compliant. Three months later, a doctor signs a paper saying he understands the charges against him. He goes back to jail. He goes to trial. He goes to prison.

Where was the "treatment"? Where was the healing? It didn't happen. The psychiatric order was merely a detour on the road to a life sentence. We use these orders to satisfy our own collective conscience, to feel like we are "doing something" about mental health, when all we are doing is managing a logjam in the court docket.

The False Promise of Prediction

The most dangerous misconception is that psychiatric treatment can predict or prevent the next outburst. We ask, "Why wasn't he flagged earlier?" or "Why didn't his doctors stop him?"

Psychiatry is a retrospective science. It is excellent at explaining why someone did something after the blood has dried. It is notoriously poor at predicting who will do something. The "duty to warn" (often cited as the Tarasoff rule) is a narrow legal needle to thread. Unless a patient names a specific victim and a specific plan, the doctor’s hands are tied.

By focusing on psychiatric treatment as the solution, we are ignoring the logistics of violence. We are ignoring the access to hardware, the digital echo chambers that radicalize the lonely, and the cultural fetishization of the "warrior" identity.

Stop Asking the Wrong Questions

People always ask: "Was he crazy?"
The better question: "Was he capable?"

Capabilities are built. They are nurtured by a society that ignores red flags because it's too expensive to intervene. They are sharpened by a culture that treats mental healthcare as a luxury rather than a utility.

When we see a headline about a judge ordering a shooter into treatment, we shouldn't be applauding. We should be asking why the only time the state is willing to pay for a man’s mental health is after he has destroyed dozens of lives.

We are obsessed with the "mind of the killer" because we don't want to look at the "structure of the system." If it's a mental health issue, it's an individual problem. If it's a systemic issue, it's our problem. We choose the psychiatric narrative because it lets us off the hook.

The Brutal Reality of Forensic "Healing"

We need to stop pretending that state hospitals are places of miracles. They are warehouses. In the case of mass shooters, they are the purgatory where we park high-profile defendants until the media cycle dies down and they can be quietly moved into the prison system.

If we actually cared about mental health in the context of mass violence, we would be funding proactive, community-based crisis teams that don't involve the police. We would be mandating multi-year mental health check-ins for every service member regardless of their discharge status. We would be treating the "crisis of belonging" that plagues young men in this country.

Instead, we wait for the bodies to drop, then we hire a psychiatrist to tell us what went wrong. It’s a ghoulish, expensive, and ultimately useless routine.

The court-ordered treatment of a mass shooter isn't a medical intervention. It is a legal formality designed to keep the wheels of the carceral state turning. It provides the illusion of care while delivering nothing but a more efficient path to the cage. Stop falling for the headline. The system isn't being fixed; it's being laundered.

EC

Elena Coleman

Elena Coleman is a prolific writer and researcher with expertise in digital media, emerging technologies, and social trends shaping the modern world.