I cannot fix my uncle. If he cannot be reached by his own sister (my mother), then I doubt that my words would do anything but enrage him. Gone is the man who took me to buy my first (legal) beer on my 21st birthday, replaced with a golem that mimics his behaviors but spouts the most dehumanizing rhetoric imaginable. I am left to mourn the loss of a man who isn’t dead but has become unrecognizable. The questions that swirl inside me are endless. Can I claim to care about people and then simply turn away from them when they’ve chosen an ugly path through life? Is there room in a compassionate society for my uncle? Is there room for a former sailor who has fallen into nihilism? Is it my job to try to rehabilitate someone just because I knew them before they lost their way? In the end, my curiosity about James was defeated by my unwillingness to engage with his hatred. As I clicked to delete his friend request, I went a few steps further and blocked him. Maybe someone can reach James and bring him back to reality, but I don’t know how to do it. The disinformation machine that broke my uncle’s brain has already found another victim, and with every share, every like, someone else’s loved one disappears into a fog of unreality.