A man suspected of carrying out two horrific, targeted attacks—one at Brown University that left two students dead and nine more wounded, and another that ended the life of an MIT professor in his Brookline home—was found dead in a storage unit in Salem, New Hampshire a few nights ago. If that reporting holds, it appears he chose to end his own life rather than face justice in open court. That may close the manhunt, but it does not close the case—not for the victims’ families, not for the public, and not for the officials who owe people straight answers.
At the Providence press conference, officials said the break in the case came from a witness who confronted the suspect on the Brown campus. Rhode Island Attorney General Peter Neronha said the witness’s information “blew this case right open,” and the affidavit identifies the witness only as “John.” Courage in the moment matters—and if this witness helped end the threat, that should be acknowledged. But the public also has a fair, hard question: if “John” had direct contact with this violent suspect and was based in the same building where the shooting happened, when exactly did he come forward, and could earlier reporting have helped law enforcement locate the suspect sooner—possibly preventing the later killing of the MIT professor? That is not second-guessing for sport; it is the difference between honoring a witness and examining whether any delay—intentional or not—hindered an urgent investigation when time was measured in lives.
Our condolences go out to the families of the students killed at Brown, to the colleagues and loved ones of Professor Nuno F. G. Loureiro, and to everyone injured or traumatized by these events. Tragedies like this leave a scar on campuses, neighborhoods, and entire regions. People deserve more than condolences and slogans—they deserve clarity, accountability, and lasting reforms that prevent the next nightmare.
Authorities have identified the suspect as Claudio Manuel Neves Valente. We’re told he attended the same academic program in Portugal as Professor Loureiro from 1995 to 2000, and he attended Brown during the 2000–2001 school year. Beyond that, many of the details the public wants—motive, planning, missed warning signs, and the timeline across jurisdictions—remain unclear. And when the facts are limited, officials have an obligation to speak carefully, precisely, and transparently.
That brings me to the tone and substance of what we heard from leadership at the Providence press conference. Under any circumstances—especially in a moment this grave—public officials should be focused on facts, on public safety, and on the steps that will protect people going forward. What we got, in my view, was too much congratulatory talk and too little information. This is not about politics, personalities, or public relations. It’s about dead students, a murdered professor, and a public that wants to know what happened, what was missed, and what changes now.
To be clear: law enforcement on the ground did hard work, and the FBI presence on stage reflected a seriousness that matched the moment. But a press conference is not a victory lap. It is an accounting to the public. The questions are straightforward and legitimate:
- What do we know about the suspect’s movements and planning in the weeks leading up to these attacks?
- Were there prior warnings or contacts with law enforcement?
- What coordination occurred between Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and federal authorities?
- What security failures existed on the Brown campus, and what immediate changes are being made?
- What risk remains—copycats, associates, or unresolved leads—if any?
And then there is an issue that cannot be avoided, because it goes directly to public policy and public safety. According to the affidavit and immigration records referenced in the reporting, the suspect became a legal permanent resident after receiving a diversity visa in 2017. DHS Secretary Kristi Noem said publicly: “This heinous individual should never have been allowed in our country,” and indicated she has been instructed by the President to suspend the program.
Here’s the reasonable, law-and-order position: when government creates pathways into the country, it has a duty to ensure those pathways don’t become vulnerabilities. That means vetting that is real, continuous, and accountable—not paperwork theater. It means asking hard questions without smearing entire communities. And it means being honest: if a program is producing unacceptable risks, you fix it or you end it. Public safety comes first. Citizenship and lawful residence are privileges with responsibilities, and government’s first responsibility is to protect the people already here.
This case is enraging, heartbreaking, and still developing. It will demand a full accounting—from campus leadership, from local authorities, and from the federal government. The public isn’t asking for spin. They’re asking for competence and candor. And the victims’ families deserve something more than headlines and a hurried press conference—they deserve the truth, and a system that learns the right lessons before the next tragedy strikes.