This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Casper Libero chapter.
An investigation into our fascination with real-life crimes through TV shows, podcasts, and documentaries, examining the ethical questions behind the allure of these unsettling stories.
On screen, an angelic face smiles at the camera. It’s a home video of Shanann Watts, recorded just hours before she was brutally murdered by her own husband. The case that shocked the United States in 2018 became one of Netflix’s most-watched documentaries: American Murder: The Family Next Door. What explains the fascination with stories as real as they are disturbing? Why do millions of people — especially women — swap lighthearted comedies for heinous crimes before going to sleep?
On Sunday nights, while the world unwinds, many of us dive headfirst into a bloody narrative. Netflix, podcasts, true crime series. Unsolved cases, in-depth investigations, portraits of serial killers. We’re drawn to these stories like magnets — even if they make us sleep with the lights on.
The obsession with true crime is no longer a niche; it has become a cultural phenomenon. And interestingly, the biggest consumers of this content are women. Yes, it’s us who binge-watch brutal cases, analyze behavioral patterns, and sometimes know more about the killer than we’d care to admit. The issue runs deeper than it seems — touching on psychology, pop culture, and, most of all, the need to feel a sense of control in an unpredictable world.
THE DARK PLEASURE OF TRYING TO UNDERSTAND EVIL
The answer may lie closer to psychology than we think. Human beings are naturally curious, and sometimes that curiosity turns to the morbid. According to a study published in the British Journal of Psychology, consuming true crime narratives activates areas of the brain related to pleasure and relief — as if we were experiencing fear in a safe environment.
It’s called “safe fear”: watching something scary in a controlled setting stimulates the brain and creates a sensation similar to pleasure. It’s the same mechanism that makes us enjoy roller coasters. There’s a component of morbid curiosity. We want to understand the “why” behind evil. How can someone be capable of something so monstrous? That’s where psychology comes in.
Watching this kind of content puts us face to face with danger without actually being exposed to it. The brain interprets it as an intense experience, but without real risk. There’s also the idea that these stories help us understand the breaking of norms. Violent crimes — especially those involving betrayal, manipulation, and secrets — challenge the notion that we live in a predictable society. And it’s precisely that disruption that fascinates — and terrifies — us.
CRIME BECAME CONTENT
With the rise of platforms like Netflix, Spotify, and YouTube, true crime began to be scripted like fiction. Just think of how series like Mindhunter, Don’t F**k With Cats, or Making a Murderer are produced: dramatic cuts, tense soundtracks, gripping narration. Crime became a product — and the audience, eager consumers.
Journalist and cultural critic Amanda Hess, from The New York Times, has written about this phenomenon: “True crime isn’t just about the facts. It’s about how those facts are told. Producers know what grabs attention — and they skillfully exploit that.”
Some projects are praised for their journalistic depth, like The Jinx. Others, however, face criticism for glamorizing the perpetrators. Cases like Ted Bundy’s — portrayed by actors such as Zac Efron — have been accused of turning murderers into pop idols.
The danger? Forgetting the victims. “It’s essential that the narrative doesn’t erase the real suffering of the families. These are lives cut short, not fictional scripts,” the journalist points out.
WOMEN AND TRUE CRIME: IDENTIFICATION, PROTECTION, AND JUSTICE
Perhaps the most curious — and revealing — fact about the true crime boom is this: the overwhelming majority of the audience is female. According to a study by Florida Gulf Coast University, women are the main consumers of true crime podcasts and series. But why?
The study itself offers some hypotheses: consuming this type of content may serve as a form of learning — a “survival manual” in a world where danger often has a familiar face.
“Women feel more vulnerable in society, so there’s a genuine interest in understanding aggressors’ behavioral patterns, recognizing signs of violence, and even preparing for potential risk situations,” says researcher Chelsea Deffenbacher, co-author of the study.
In addition, many women identify with the victims, making the experience even more intense. In a world where many crimes against women are not taken seriously, following a case through to its resolution can bring a sense of justice — even if only symbolic.
The book Savage Appetites, by journalist Rachel Monroe, explores how female archetypes relate to true crime consumption — from the detective to the avenging victim.
WOMEN, TRUE CRIME, AND THE QUEST FOR CONTROL
True crime consumption isn’t always just a negative habit. A report by Marie Claire highlights that women not only lead the audience for true crime content but are also at the forefront of its production. According to criminal expert Ilana Casoy, this interest can be explained by women’s identification with the victims, since they are statistically the primary targets of violent crimes. Casoy notes that, while men tend to consume content like war movies, women turn to true crime as a way to understand and prepare for possible situations of violence.
Additionally, psychologists Bruna Dutra and Gabriella Pessoa point out that women’s true crime consumption can serve as a coping mechanism, allowing them to comprehend the factors that lead to violence and, in turn, develop self-protection strategies. This search for understanding and control reflects an attempt to deal with the perceived vulnerability present in everyday life.
The phenomenon also extends into content creation. Podcasts like Modus Operandi, hosted by Carol Moreira and Mabê Bonafé, exemplify this trend — led by women and with a predominantly female audience. This strong female presence in true crime storytelling reinforces the idea that, for many women, these narratives are more than entertainment; they’re tools for learning and empowerment.
Another notable example is Jaqueline Guerreiro, creator of the YouTube series Quinta Misteriosa, where she presents real crime cases. Her channel, with over three million subscribers, has an audience made up of 87% women. Jaqueline shares that her interest in the genre began in childhood, sparked by a curiosity to understand what drives someone to commit crimes. She believes the interest goes beyond curiosity, acting as a form of self-defense:
“When a case involves a female victim, we inevitably think, ‘That could have been me, my mom, sister, or friend.’ Being a woman means being on constant alert, so I feel that knowing the details is almost a defense mechanism — learning what not to do so it doesn’t happen to me.”
THE THIN LINE BETWEEN EMPATHY AND FETISHIZATION
Despite the identification and the desire to understand, excessive or uncritical consumption of true crime can cross a delicate boundary: the fetishization of violence.
Cases like Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer, which were turned into series starring Hollywood heartthrobs, sparked waves of fans who romanticize the criminals.
“When we turn criminals into stars and crimes into pure entertainment, there’s a risk of erasing the victims,” warns Rachel Monroe.
Some victims’ families have already spoken out against productions for reviving trauma without their consent. And the cult of the killer’s image — often turned into near-mythical figures — raises the question: are we romanticizing evil?
IS CONSCIOUS CONSUMPTION POSSIBLE — AND NECESSARY?
The obsession with true crime is unlikely to fade anytime soon. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t rethink the way we consume this type of content.
Seeking productions that respect the victims, avoiding the glamorization of killers, and remembering that behind every case lies real pain are ways to make this consumption more ethical. It’s the responsibility of both journalists and audiences to demand narrative accountability.
The true crime obsession says a lot about us — about our fears, insecurities, thirst for justice, and desire to understand the incomprehensible. But it also speaks to the world we live in and everything that still needs to change.
So, the next time you hit play on another chilling story, it’s worth asking: what exactly am I looking for here? The answer might not come easily. But like any good mystery, maybe that’s what keeps us watching.
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The article above was edited by Sarah Pizarro
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