In a Nebraska courtroom, justice was finally dispensed—but not in the way most would assume. Chloe Coplen-Anderson, now 18, was sentenced to 35 to 60 years in prison after being convicted of slitting her newborn son’s throat shortly after giving birth in her bedroom.

The brutal act—committed with a kitchen knife and hidden from her unsuspecting family—has rightly shocked the nation. But beneath the surface of this horror story lies a far more insidious truth, one that exposes the gaping moral void at the heart of modern law.

Coplen-Anderson was just 16 when she gave birth in secret. No hospital. No midwife. No adult supervision. Just a teenager in the darkness of her room, bringing forth life with trembling hands. And then, moments later, extinguishing it.

According to court reports, she wrapped the baby in a blanket, retrieved a kitchen knife, and carried out the deed with cold resolve. She then hid the bloodied blade in her closet. Her parents believed the baby had been stillborn, until her mother—wracked with suspicion—told police the truth:

Chloe had killed her own child.

And now, the State has acted. Judges in robes, wielding gavels with all the authority of Olympus, have declared that what she did was, indeed, murder. The child had been born. He had drawn breath. His heart had beaten outside the womb. Therefore, by the state’s metric, he was a person. Therefore, he had rights. Therefore, Chloe must pay.

But rewind the clock. What if this same baby—same tiny body, same soul, same DNA—had been torn apart just a few weeks earlier? What if Chloe had walked into an abortion clinic with the same resolve, but instead of a kitchen knife, the instrument had been a curette or suction tube? What if the baby’s location had still been the womb? In that case, the culture would not be wringing its hands in moral indignation—they would be clapping. They’d be organizing GoFundMes. They’d be writing puff pieces in Teen Vogue about her “bravery” and “reproductive autonomy.”

This wasn’t about the baby. This was about timing.

The moral logic of our day is as brittle as a wet paper straw. A human life is sacred—unless it’s inconvenient. Murder is a crime—unless it’s cloaked in the sterile euphemism of “choice.” A mother slashing the throat of her child is barbaric—unless she does it under the warm glow of fluorescent lights and under the supervision of a licensed executioner.

Chloe Coplen-Anderson is going to prison for doing what countless women do every day—with applause. The only difference? She was too late. She missed the window. She failed to book the appointment on time. She took her murder into her own hands instead of outsourcing it to a medical hitman. And so, she’s labeled a monster. Not because the act was more heinous. But because it wasn’t institutionalized.

Think about that. Sit with it. Let the irrationality fester.

We live in a nation where the legality of killing your own child hinges not on whether he’s alive, but whether he’s visible. It’s not the beating heart that makes him a person—it’s whether anyone else can see it on an ultrasound monitor or hear it through a stethoscope. The same child, if found in the womb, can be dismembered with the full endorsement of the state, the media, and the medical establishment. But let him pass through the birth canal, and suddenly, he’s protected. A few inches of geography make all the difference.

This isn’t justice. It’s madness wrapped in legislation.

And before we get too comfortable wagging fingers at Chloe alone, let’s acknowledge this ugly little detail… the vast majority of “pro-life” organizations in America publicly oppose holding women accountable for the deaths of their unborn children. That’s right. The Southern Baptist Convention, the National Right to Life, etc.

These same groups who cry foul at Chloe’s brutality would’ve fought tooth and nail to ensure she faced no consequences had she murdered her son just a few weeks earlier. Their position? Women are always victims—never perpetrators. Abortion is always a tragedy—never a crime. So in the end, even our supposed defenders of life can’t bring themselves to call it what it is, murder.

How convenient.

We are a culture soaked in blood and blindfolded by euphemism. We write poems about justice while stabbing babies in silence. We lock up teenagers for what we legally permit in clinics every day. We hold candlelight vigils for newborns while funding Planned Parenthood with our tax dollars. And we dare to call ourselves civilized.

Chloe Coplen-Anderson didn’t commit a different act. She committed the same act—just a few weeks too late. In the upside-down moral world we’ve built, timing is everything. Murder is murder, unless you’re early.

Then, it’s just healthcare.