When darkness becomes a brand

PUBLISHED: April 28, 2026 | www.baltimoresun.com

Our popular culture environment made singer D4vd (David Burke) a rising star, carefully constructed, algorithmically elevated and culturally rewarded. Then, in September, a 14-year-old girl’s decomposing body was discovered in the front trunk of his car in a Los Angeles tow yard. This month, authorities charged Burke with first-degree murder in the death of Celeste Rivas Hernandez. What begins as persona — in the case of Burke, dark, haunting, provocative — can, over time, become something far more dangerous. Not just to the artist, but to the audience consuming it.

We are living in an era where attention is currency, and the most extreme expressions often command the highest value. Violence, despair and shock are no longer fringe elements in entertainment; they are increasingly central to it. They are stylized, packaged and delivered in ways that blur the line between art and identity. The darker the imagery, the more it spreads. The more unsettling the message, the more it engages. Algorithms are not moral arbiters; they reward what captures attention, not what cultivates character.

For a young artist, especially one still forming a sense of self, this environment can be intoxicating. A persona that begins as performance, something crafted for effect, can slowly take hold as identity. Fans don’t just observe; they immerse themselves. They defend, amplify and internalize. The artist becomes not just a creator, but a symbol. And the audience becomes not just consumers but participants in sustaining that image.

But what happens when the performance stops being performance?

What happens when reality breaks through?

The revelations about the real identity behind Burke’s persona force a confrontation that cannot be avoided. Headlines shift from metaphor to something real and irreversible. The aesthetic of darkness collides with the reality of it. And suddenly, what was once consumed as art demands to be reckoned with as consequence.

This is not about one name. It is about a system.

A system that rewards extremity over substance. A system that confuses provocation with depth. A system where young minds, both creators and audiences, are conditioned to see darkness not as something to be understood and navigated but as something to be glorified and performed.

And this is where we must be honest: This is the slow poison that destroys our youth.

Not in one moment. Not in one act. But gradually, through repetition, normalization and immersion. When violence is stylized, it becomes familiar. When it is familiar, it becomes acceptable. And when it becomes acceptable, it begins to shape perception.

Young people are not just watching these narratives; they are forming their identities within them. They are learning what is celebrated, what gains attention, what brings validation. And too often, what they are shown is that darkness sells, brutality resonates and shock elevates.

We cannot ignore the cumulative effect of that message.

This does not mean art must be sanitized or stripped of complexity. Darkness has always had a place in storytelling. It reflects real struggles, real emotions and real human experiences. But there is a difference between confronting darkness and commodifying it. There is a difference between exploring pain and packaging it as spectacle.

The danger arises when the line between those two disappears.

When brutality becomes a brand, it stops being contained within the boundaries of art. It seeps into perception. It influences behavior. It alters the way reality is processed, especially for those who have not yet developed the tools to critically separate performance from identity.

And when something real happens, when tragedy replaces metaphor, the cost is no longer measured in streams, likes or followers. It is measured in lives. In families. In communities forced to grapple with consequences that cannot be undone.

We should also be clear: Responsibility does not rest solely on the individual at the center of the story. It extends outward to platforms that amplify without discernment, to industries that monetize without accountability and to audiences that consume without reflection.

We are all participants in the ecosystem we have built.

And ecosystems, once established, shape behavior.

The question is whether we are willing to confront that reality before more damage is done.

Because if we continue down this path where extremity is rewarded, where identity is blurred with performance, where youth are immersed in a culture that glorifies darkness, we should not be surprised by the outcomes. We should not act shocked when the lines collapse, when the consequences become visible, when the cost becomes undeniable.

We should recognize it for what it is: the predictable result of a system that has lost its sense of balance.

There is still time to correct course. To elevate substance over shock. To encourage creativity that challenges without corrupting. To build platforms and audiences that value depth, not just disruption.

But that requires intentionality. It requires restraint. And it requires a willingness to say that not everything that captures attention deserves to be rewarded.

Because the stakes are no longer abstract.

They are real.

And if we fail to act, the slow poison will continue to do what it does best: quietly, steadily and relentlessly erode the very foundation of the next generation.

Armstrong Williams (www.armstrongwilliams.com; @arightside) is a political analyst, syndicated columnist and owner of the broadcasting company, Howard Stirk Holdings. He is also part owner of The Baltimore Sun.

©️ 2026 Baltimore Sun