Conner Leavitt Was America's Most Hated Teen. Then the Cameras…

If you were online anywhere between 2022 and 2024, you know the name Conner Leavitt. You probably also know you're not supposed to say it without a trigger warning. The Utah teen became the internet's favorite punching bag after a leaked video showed him saying things so unhinged that even 4chan told him to chill. Now, eighteen months after his last viral moment, Leavitt has resurfaced—and the internet is handling it with its usual grace. Let's recap for those who were living under a rock, or just wisely logged off. Leavitt first went viral when a clip of him mocking a classmate's memorial surfaced. He was fifteen. The internet, being the internet, did what it does best: turned a real kid into a meme, then turned that meme into a monster. He got death threats. His address leaked. His grandmother's Facebook got flooded with messages from strangers explaining, in detail, how they planned to hurt her grandson. Beautiful species, we are. Then came the apology video. You know the one. Twenty-two minutes of Leavitt staring at the floor, reading off notes, occasionally glancing at someone off-camera like a hostage reading a statement. The comments were a masterclass in American compassion. "Too little, too late." "He's only sorry he got caught." "This kid is literally the antichrist." Because nothing says moral high ground like cyberbullying a teenager into oblivion and then complaining he didn't thank you for it. Fast forward to now. Leavitt is eighteen. He's got a job at a warehouse in Provo. He's enrolled part-time at BYU. And this week, someone spotted him at a Walmart and posted a blurry photo captioned "guess who's back." Within hours, Reddit had a new thread with 4,000 comments, half of which were people explaining why he should still be in jail, and the other half explaining why the first half needed to touch grass. Here's the thing nobody wants to admit: we did this. Not him—well, he did the original thing, and it was bad. But the reaction? The months of harassment? The way we turned a dumb, mean teenager into a national hate figure and then acted surprised when he didn't emerge as a well-adjusted adult? That's on us. We love a redemption arc, but only if the person suffers publicly for at least three to five years first. Anything less feels like we're letting them off easy. Leavitt hasn't given an interview. He hasn't posted on social media. He's just... living. Working. Going to school. Being a person. And apparently, that's the most controversial thing he's ever done. The viral machine doesn't know what to do with someone who refuses to play the villain or the hero. It just keeps circling, waiting for another clip, another scandal, another reason to feel righteous. Meanwhile, Leavitt is bagging groceries or stocking shelves or whatever, probably grateful for the anonymity that the internet keeps threatening to take away. The moral of the story, if there is one: the internet never forgets, but it also never forgives—especially when forgiving would mean admitting we were part of the problem. **Closing opinion:** We built a monster out of a teenager and then got mad when he didn't turn into a saint. Conner Leavitt isn't a hero. He's just a guy who made mistakes and had the misfortune of making them on camera. Maybe the real villain was the comment section all along.