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The legacy of Charles Manson is often treated as a tabloid curiosity, a relic of a strange and turbulent time. But the deeper truth of his story is far more uncomfortable. It forces us to confront the structural failures of our own era. Manson was a product of a broken foster care system, an inadequate juvenile justice framework, and a society that looked away from the “disposable” children of the poor. His life was a series of missed opportunities for intervention, a chain of events where a single moment of genuine compassion or effective mental health support might have altered the course of history.
When we look at the harmless-looking boy in the old black-and-white photographs, we are forced to ask a question that haunts our modern social fabric: how many future monsters are we quietly creating right now, in plain sight? We live in a world where children still fall through the cracks of overburdened systems, where neglect is still a quiet epidemic, and where the internet has provided new, digital “alleys” for the lost to find the wrong kind of belonging. The radicalization of the young and the vulnerable by charismatic, predatory figures is not a phenomenon that died in 1969; it has merely moved into new arenas.
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