Mental Health + Violence: The Quiet Crisis We Keep Looking Away From

The attempted assassination at a Pennsylvania rally by Thomas Crooks wasn’t only a security failure. It was a mental-health failure years in the making. Accounts describe a bright engineering student sliding into isolation, showing visible distress, researching depression, and behaving erratically – while the adults closest to him didn’t act with the urgency the situation required. His story is a harsh reminder of a broader truth: when serious psychiatric conditions go unrecognized and untreated – especially among disconnected youth – the risk of tragedy rises.

Start with a crucial clarification: most people with mental illness are not violent. That point matters, both ethically and practically. But it can coexist with another fact: when symptoms like psychosis, suicidal ideation, or explicit violent fantasies are ignored, the danger can escalate. We do harm when we let stigma, denial, or confusion keep us from intervening until the crisis chooses the timeline.

The pattern shows up again and again. Warning signs rarely hide from everyone. A parent notices the all-night pacing, the muttering, the withdrawal from friends. A classmate sees unsettling posts. A neighbor hears shouting at no one. Online followers catch the spiraling fixation. Seen in isolation, each signal might be dismissed. Together, they sketch a psychiatric emergency. The silence between those signals is where harm grows.

Disconnection makes everything worse. Kids who feel chronically rejected or unsafe withdraw to protect themselves – only to become easier targets for online rabbit holes that glamorize violence, offer belonging without accountability, and feed grievances with algorithmic precision. That fusion of untreated illness and digital radicalization is combustible.

So what should change? Responsibility must start at home, not because parents are to blame for mental illness, but because they’re best positioned to notice it early. When a child says they hear voices commanding harm – or admits they fantasize about hurting themselves or others – there is no space for “let’s see how it goes.” That is not teenage angst; it’s a medical emergency. We would call an ambulance for a broken bone or appendicitis. Failing to do the equivalent for acute psychiatric symptoms is neglect by another name.

Intervening early isn’t only about preventing worst-case outcomes. It also protects the brain. Untreated psychosis, for example, often becomes harder to treat over time, with longer hospitalizations and more disruptive recoveries. Acting quickly can shorten suffering, preserve functioning, and keep kids connected to school, sports, and friendships – the very buffers that reduce risk.

Why don’t families move faster? Stigma, yes. But also logistics – waitlists, confusing insurance rules, and a maze of services. That can overwhelm even the most diligent parent. Still, the existence of a broken system doesn’t absolve us of using the doors that do open: urgent evaluations, crisis lines, school counselors, pediatricians who can bridge to psychiatry, and, when needed, emergency rooms.

This is where language matters. We must normalize plain talk about risk without amplifying fear. Dr. Nina Cerfolio, terrorism and mass shooting expert, states in her book Psychoanalytic and Spiritual Perspectives on Terrorism: “The dogmatic argument that we should eliminate the discussion of the association between untreated mental health and mass shootings prevent us from creating possible solutions.” Refusing to discuss a correlation because it’s politically uncomfortable doesn’t protect vulnerable communities – it silences the very conversations that lead to better detection, faster care, and smarter prevention.

Here’s a practical blueprint:

1. Recognize the signs. Watch for abrupt social withdrawal; bizarre or paranoid ideas; drastic mood swings; fixation on violence; hopelessness; rituals that crowd out normal life; and any talk of voices, plans, or intent. Trust your discomfort.
2. Move fast. If you hear explicit suicidal or homicidal thoughts, or observe psychosis, seek emergency psychiatric evaluation immediately. Do not wait for a “better time” or a scheduled visit weeks away.
3. Treat the stigma. Tell your child, “This is health care, and we’re getting help.” Loop in trusted adults – coaches, teachers, relatives – to preserve connection and accountability.
4. Build a team. Push for school-based services, request a crisis evaluation, ask your pediatrician about bridge medications or urgent referrals, and contact local or national crisis lines. Document behaviors and timelines to help clinicians assess risk accurately.
5. Advocate upstream. Support policies that expand youth psychiatric beds, mobile crisis teams, and school psychologists. Ask your district how it flags and responds to early warning signs. Systems improve when communities demand it.

If the Crooks case teaches us anything, it’s that time is the one resource we can’t replenish. Early action isn’t about punishment or surveillance; it’s about restoring safety and dignity for the child, the family, and the broader community. We can hold two truths: people with mental illness deserve compassion and rights – and ignoring severe, untreated illness in isolated youth puts everyone at risk.

The quiet crisis is only quiet because we refuse to name it. Let’s name it, fund it, and fix it – before the next set of warning signs becomes another headline.