GORE GONE VIRAL

When 65-year-old Noel Lloyd Patterson lost control of his vehicle and plunged into the Rio Cobre at Flat Bridge some time after 10 p.m. on April 13, some of his family members didn’t receive a phone call to notify them of the unfolding tragedy. Instead, they learned of his death through a TikTok livestream.

Patterson’s lifeless body lay in the road, broadcast in real time to hundreds of strangers.

While The Sunday Gleaner could not determine the identity of the person behind the stream, this incident was not isolated.

In a similar case in St Thomas, a man struck and killed by a car was also livestreamed by another social media user.

This man was not a relative or friend of the deceased – just a bystander and potentially a profiteer with a smartphone.

He told The Sunday Gleaner that he went live intending to alert relatives who may not have known about the incident.

“Basically, I saw that many people never know ‘bout it and me never have the family member number to tell dem ‘your family member just get lick dung and dead’,” he said. “So I just went live and nuff people say them know him.”

The dead man’s family, however, was not among those who reached out to him.

But that live later took a dark turn. As viewers flooded his stream with comments, some demanded closer views of the body. His general response was, “You not even a send me no gifts”, pausing at times to push back at those accusing him of exploiting someone’s death.

He now regrets that moment.

“Me wrong fi what me do because me understand say me no supposed to do that to try get gifts from others. That’s one of the reasons why I ended the live,” he told The Sunday Gleaner.

The man says he won’t go live in similar circumstances again, claiming the backlash from viewers affected him deeply.

“I felt 100 per cent disrespected,” he said. “I buck up on some good things, some bad things. So me kinda feel a way about some of the comments.”

But for many, this trend points to a larger, more troubling issue: the monetisation of death, gore and violence online. In April 2023, legislators on a Joint Select Committee reviewing the Cybercrimes Act 2015 also weighed whether to criminalise such social media posts.

Emotional impact

Julian Robinson, who sat on that committee, told The Sunday Gleaner that he has long been concerned about the emotional impact of these posts on families.

“There were three of us (committee members) who had the concern,” Robinson recalled. “Myself, the chairman, who was Minister [Daryl] Vaz, and I recollect Kavan Gayle also.”

Still, there was pushback when the idea of criminalising such actions was raised. “I think everybody accepted the problem and the impact it has, but there was a reluctance to criminalising the offence.”

He explained that some committee members feared infringing on privacy rights or found it hard to define what would legally constitute offensive content. In the end, the group leaned toward public education as the main strategy.

However, the trend has now evolved into something more sinister.

“At the time when we were considering it, that wasn’t even the consideration,” Robinson said, referring to TikTok livestreams at scenes of tragedies. “The main consideration was the emotional grief. I didn’t know it would reach a level where people are trying to make money out of the sorrow and misery of others. That’s a different level of depravity.”

The challenges of policing social media remain a stumbling block.

“By the time somebody reports something as an offensive post, it has probably already gone viral,” Robinson said.

Issue needs urgent attention

While he hesitates to advocate for criminalisation outright, the St Andrew South Eastern member of parliament believes the issue needs urgent attention.

Committee Chairman Vaz did not respond to a Sunday Gleaner request for comment.

Meanwhile, for his part, the man who streamed the aftermath of the St Thomas crash claims he’s moved on from sensational livestreams and now uses TikTok solely to promote his business. Still, when asked how he would feel if he found out a loved one had died via livestream, he responded, “If that’s the way I’m gonna find out, that’s the way I’m gonna find out.”

But while some viewers consume the content out of shock or curiosity, others are chasing clout. Psychologist Dr Courtney Faulknor, founder of Talk About It Limited, says this troubling trend is underpinned by deeply rooted psychological and societal issues unique to the Jamaican experience.

“In Jamaica, many people have become desensitised to violence because of how frequently they’re exposed to it,” Faulknor explained. “You grow up hearing gunshots or seeing domestic disputes. Eventually, your brain starts treating it as normal.”

This emotional numbing means that instead of reacting with horror, some people instinctively reach for their phones.

He also points to the bystander effect, a psychological phenomenon where people are less likely to help during emergencies when others are present. In Jamaican settings, especially crowded communities or events, he says densely populated areas or public events might increase this effect, especially when multiple people are already filming.

“Instead, the more people watching, the more each person assumes someone else will call for help,” he said.

Social media has only amplified this behaviour. According to Faulknor, recording violence is often an attempt to gain validation, attention, or followers.

Sense of helplessness

“It’s a clout culture. A person might think, ‘Mi haffi get di video! Dis a go viral!’” he noted. Yet beyond vanity, a sense of helplessness drives this urge to document rather than intervene. – “Mi cyaan stop dem, but at least di world will see what gwan.”

In communities plagued by crime, fear of retaliation is another factor.

“In areas where ‘informer fi dead’ is still a real thing, people feel safer filming than physically stepping in or calling police,” Faulknor said.

Moreover, widespread distrust in law enforcement also discourages engagement, he says.

“Why call police when dem nah reach in time, or worse, might rough up people who innocent?”

Faulknor warns that this digital exposure is damaging young minds.

“Graphic videos create secondary trauma. Some youth develop anxiety, nightmares, or even physical symptoms like headaches. They lose focus at school, disengage from activities, and sometimes imitate what they see.”

He described cases where children not only watched violence but began filming it at school for popularity.

The monetisation of trauma is another concern.

“We’re seeing a culture shift. People record death like it’s a show. A family may find out their loved one died not from police, but through a WhatsApp video.” Over time, the constant consumption of such content erodes empathy. “People stop reacting with compassion. They laugh, repost, gossip, and treat tragedy as routine.”

As society turns grief into online performance and justice into viral moments, Faulknor urges Jamaicans to reflect.

“We can’t normalise death. We need to bring back dignity, empathy, and responsible storytelling. Otherwise, we risk raising a generation more interested in views than values.”

mickalia.kington@gleanerjm.com