The Myriad Tragedies of Gabby Petito's Short Life and Dramatic Death

There are many tragic aspects to the death of Gabby Petito, an ethereally beautiful young woman whose disappearance riveted a nation and become major news. 

That a life so full of promise was snuffed out so young is of course almost almost unbearably sad. Equally haunting is what press coverage of her disappearance says about us as a society and a nation. 

I cannot imagine the disappearance of a heavyset, dark-skinned African-American man generating one thousandth of the interest and outrage that Petito’s case did. 

That’s because we as a culture do not value heavyset, dark-skinned African-American men the way that we do beautiful blonde straight white Christian women in their teens or early twenties. 

We as a culture don’t value ANYONE more than we value beautiful, blonde straight white Christian women in their teens or early twenties, with the exception of handsome, blonde, straight Christian men in their teens or early twenties.

The only way that Petito’s case would have been more irresistible to the press and the public at large would have been if, in addition to being a beautiful, blonde straight white Christian women in her early twenties, Petito had also been famous or rich. 

Coverage of Petito’s disappearance reminded me of a story I read recently about a party in Los Angeles that went tragically awry when a deadly batch of Fentanyl-laced cocaine resulted in the deaths of at least three partygoers and the overdose of one more. 

The focus of the story was Kate Quigley, a comedian perhaps best known for being the ex-girlfriend of Darius Rucker, the Hootie and the Blowfish frontman turned country singer. Quigley overdosed but recovered. 

Unlike Quigley, Fuquan Johnson and Enrico Colangeli also died from the fentanyl-laced cocaine and, like Quigley were also comedians but their deaths were mentioned only in passing in an article focused on Quigley’s non-fatal overdose. 

Johnson and Colangeli died that awful night but because they had never been in a romantic relationship with the hit-maker behind such smashes as “I Only Wanna Be With You” and “Hold My Hand" their deaths were treated as less consequential and newsworthy as a white woman connected to a massively famous pop star. 

When old people or poor people or the disabled or the unattractive die or go missing, we collectively shrug our shoulders and say that’s just how life is. People live, people die, that’s the way of the world. 

But when a telegenic, radiant young white woman goes missing under dramatic circumstances we spring into action, organize a nation-wide search party and hold our collective breath until the beautiful white woman has been found. 

I can't help but think that our obsession with Petito also has a lot to do with the contemporary passion for true crime in all of its forms. Reading about Petito before her remains were discovered felt like being in the early stages of a smash hit podcast like Serial or Dirty John. 

In that respect I suspect there are some unfortunate souls who would have been genuinely disappointed if Petito was found alive and well, having gotten lost or misplaced her cell phone. This would represent an unlikely happy ending for everyone else but a brutal anti-climax for people who needed Petito’s case to be a homicide and a mystery to be endlessly investigated rather than a mere case of someone wandering away and being found alive if slightly dazed. 

The end of Petito’s life I fear is only the beginning of her ascent to fame and infamy. There will be trials and documentaries and podcasts and people eager to use her too short life and agonizing death to promote their own agendas. 

We’ll be asking lots of questions now that Petito’s body has been found. Hopefully some of them will be about why we elevated her story to national news while ignoring the disappearances and deaths, as well as lives, of people who are not white and young and beautiful and blonde. 

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