Content warning: This article mentions topics such as murder, gore, the exploitation of trauma and further sensitive topics.
True crime is a genre that never runs out of new content to produce. Capitalizing on real-life events consisting of explicit gore, tragedies and trauma that continue to exist today, this media type now relies on theatrics rather than compassion.
From podcasts and books to hit Netflix shows and documentaries, each medium is used to share the stories of real people who’ve endured real suffering.
Fans of true crime argue this content can be used for a greater good beyond entertainment. In a poll conducted by YouGovAmerica—an international research data and analytics group—approximately half of the 1,000 respondents say the genre is one they enjoy. Furthermore, around 61% of the survey’s respondents claimed that true crime makes people more empathetic.
There are also other findings just as important to note.
Fifty-nine percent of respondents found the genre “graphic and disturbing,” while 44% believe it desensitizes people to violence. These numbers are significant, and these opinions are not uncommon. Yet, such a vast audience still consumes this content through various methods — either oblivious or ignorant to how it exploits people rather than informing them.
True crime can re-victimize
Topics within the genre range from child abductions and abuse to extreme violence and murder. While these crimes obviously affect the primary victim of the crime, secondary victims such as family members, friends and other loved ones are often disregarded and forgotten; their feelings and trauma neglected.
Netflix’s Dahmer-Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story revolved around the infamous serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer, who killed over a dozen young men between 1978 and 1991. The series explores the horrific crimes committed and also consists of real-life parallels, such as family members of victims giving victim impact statements in court.
Shortly after the series came out, family members of victims were quick to call out and criticize the show’s explicit depiction of gory acts.
Rita Isbell, sister of Errol Lindsey, one of Dahmer’s victims, spoke to reporter Kelsey Vlamis who published an essay on Insider making her lack of involvement and consideration on the part of the creators clear to the public. Isbell was showcased in the victim impact statements part of the series.
She was not the only one who had something to say.
Shirley Hughes, mother of victim Tony Hughes, also disapproved of the show’s creation.
“I don’t see how they can use our names and put stuff out like that out there,” she said, as reported by The Guardian.
Reported by the Los Angeles Times, creator Ryan Murphy said, “he and the ‘Dahmer’ writing team reached out to 20 family members and friends of the serial killer’s victims over 3.5 years, but nobody got back to them.”
Was not getting a response from dozens upon dozens of family members not indicative of the fact that creating a show about the brutal passing of their loved ones was a bad idea? Why was entertainment prioritized over the well-being and peace of mind of those who have already faced such a travesty?
When can families have the time and privacy to heal from the loss they have to grieve rather than staring at the cause of their sorrow right in the eye whenever they open up social media or a streaming service?
The re-traumatization doesn’t stop at scripted productions like these; it also carries onto documentary-based mediums.
Hulu’s Dead Asleep is a true crime documentary surrounding the death of 21-year-old Brooke Preston. However, rather than focusing on Preston’s life, it’s believed to place emphasis on her killer.
Preston’s sister, Jordan Preston, told Rolling Stone that as soon as she and her family found out that the focus would be on the killer rather than her sister, they chose not to work with creators and thus, did not opt in for any interviews.
“If it wasn’t about him, we probably would have gotten involved. We’d love to share her story and how amazing she was,” Jordan said.
Once again, the question is raised: Why prioritize entertainment over the feelings and suffering of actual people?
Sensationalizing and romanticizing criminals
True crime inherently sensationalizes killers. It’s just that simple.
To sensationalize means to present something as exciting or intriguing as you can. Often, this happens at the expense of events, people, and in this case, both of those things alongside tragedies.
By giving criminals countless platforms time and time again, their names live on forever while the names and lives of those that did matter are not even considered.
There is no need for several shows and films about anybody in general, let alone a killer. There is no “new take” that can be had about someone who’s committed heinous crimes. People can simply be bad people who’ve done horrible things. To stretch it out the way the true crime genre tends to do at times is absurd and unnecessary.
Moreover, by creating these shows using conventionally attractive and admired stars (Zac Efron and Chad Michael Murray as Ted Bundy, Ross Lynch and Evan Peters as Jeffrey Dahmer, etc.), their faces and, ultimately, their fan bases, get attached to that character.
From fancams (video compilations of celebrities/characters made by fans) to stan accounts and more, the people who play these characters are adored, and the lines between them and their characters can easily blur.
To add to the sensationalism, actors are getting high acclaim and awards for their portrayals of these killers.
Evan Peters, who played Dahmer in the 2022 Netflix series, recently won a Golden Globe for Best Performance by an Actor in a Limited Series. In his speech, he thanked Netflix, Ryan Murphy, the cast and crew, his family and loved ones.
There was absolutely no mention of the victims or their families that had to watch the imagined reenactment of their loved ones’ passings. What does that show in terms of prioritization? What is clearly more valued here: entertainment or empathy?
Once again, families are disregarded and not only do they have to be reminded of their trauma on screens every day, but they have to watch someone benefit from it too.
Creating parasocial relationships – it’s never not creepy
There are also those that become way too invested in the lives of victims and their families.
Social media makes it way too easy to access victims and leads to many “connecting” with them in ways that are just eerie.
Take the Idaho student murders for example: after news broke of the tragedy, before there was a suspect, many self-acclaimed “internet sleuths” took it upon themselves to come up with theories about who could possibly be the killer. They pointed fingers at many but primarily the survivors of the quadruple murder, Dylan Mortenson and Bethany Funke.
People began treating the murders like a whodunit mystery and failed to recognize reality itself. Instead, they harassed two people who lost friends and almost their own lives.
TikTok videos that showed the floor plans of the home were shared. People conspired with how the killer entered and exited and so much more. It was apparent that the crime was seen as a game — a pass-time, even.
In another vein, there’s the Netflix documentary Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel focused on the death of 21-year-old Elisa Lam, who was found in the water tank on the roof of the Cecil Hotel in Los Angeles. In it, an interviewee, John Sobhani, was deeply invested in her case and felt connected to her, despite never knowing her. It was to the point where he sent a friend to visit and touch her gravestone on his behalf.
These “connections” are invasive — plain and simple. They are unsettling and go beyond the boundaries of empathy and compassion. It is one thing to feel upset by these kinds of tragic occurrences; it is another to take an investigation into your own hands or feel some kind of unearthly connection to someone you don’t know.
It is, however, significant to be mindful of those who develop these one-sided relations as either a coping mechanism for themselves or out of mental health concerns. While this is not an excuse for intrusive behaviour, it may provide one of many explanations.
True crime makes people believe they have the right to make these connections because, once again, it blurs the line between fiction and reality; it portrays actual people as characters and dehumanizes victims.
Is there a silver lining?
However, perhaps there is some merit to the arguments favouring true crime. In some instances, it has exposed the inequalities and biases within the criminal justice system.
For example, the podcast Serial by Sarah Koenig focused on the case of Adnan Syed against the state of Baltimore. He was accused of killing his ex-girlfriend, Hae Min Lee, when they were both in high school. He maintained innocence throughout the entire trial and spent 23 years in prison for it.
This podcast shed light on the wrongdoings and inconsistencies Syed had to face within the justice system. With it, mainstream media, as well as a large audience, brought their attention to the case and it is argued to be partially why Maryland’s highest court granted Syed another trial.
In 2022, Syed was released from prison.
Although there are compelling positives that exist due to the work of true crime, it should and does not deviate from the pain it has brought and exacerbated for individuals.
True crime & Ethics
This brings forth the argument: is there an ethical way to consume true crime media?
The simple answer is: no.
The more complicated one: “yes” is the only wrong answer.
There are many layers to what makes consuming true crime ethical versus unethical. The kind you consume, how it is consumed, its impact on one’s perception of reality, whose stories are being told and how they are being told, if families and loved ones are being considered, and so much more.
The list goes on and on and on. It’s never-ending.
Final Thoughts
The genre of true crime is messy and convoluted. It could have been created with the intent to inform and create more room for empathy — maybe, at one point, it was. However, it has ultimately devolved into another way for creators to make money, even at the expense of other people.
The thin line between information and exploitation has been far crossed, and it is up to us consumers to draw the line once again by reevaluating the genre’s priorities and structure.