The Issue With Murder as Entertainment
True-crime content is often problematic and exploitative
Trigger Warning: While this article isn’t graphic, it does broach the topics of murder and violence, as well as the development of true-crime stories.
I was returning from an evening with friends in my sleepy hometown. There was a shortcut through a lighted area that cut the walk down significantly, but I couldn’t get myself to take it.
“This is the perfect place for a murder,” my brain whispered, while I stood there, frozen in fear. Then I ran home the long way, shaking by the time I got in.
I grew up in a middle-class suburb that’s probably never experienced a violent crime, but my hyperactive imagination was full of gory images from a diet of non-stop murder mysteries. I binged crime shows. I loved murder mystery novels. I’d sit through hours of Cold Case Files. Essentially, all of my “entertainment” centered around killing and violence.
No wonder I could barely leave my house.
Why is the true-crime genre so popular?
True-crime content has experienced a resurgence since the popularity of the NPR podcast Serial and documentaries such as Making of a Murderer. Of the top 15 most listened to podcasts in the U.S. last year, five of them were focused on true crime.
Studies show it’s women who are most enamored with this genre. In fact, one study found 73% of true-crime podcast listeners are female. But popular theories as to why this content resonates more with women seem flimsy to me.
- Women have higher levels of empathy, so they can feel more for the victim;
- Women use true crime content to learn tips and techniques for escaping violent criminals in case they’re ever in a dangerous situation;
If that’s all there was to it, women would be glued to podcasts about other women’s cars breaking down on a freeway and them having to figure out the issue with the engine. I somehow don’t see that podcast cracking the top 15.
I’m more inclined to believe author Kate Tuttle’s theory that true crime is an extension of the ghost stories kids love to tell around a campfire. There are many people who enjoy the adrenaline rush of being scared. As adults, this may translate to a fascination with the violence one person can commit against another:
Seeing the truth of the world laid bare — all its potential for violence and suffering, but also the wild leaps of survival, the close calls that turned out O.K. — this was what I craved. I loved it but it scared me. Or I loved it because it scared me.
Social Psychologist Amanda Vikary’s analysis of Amazon book reviews revealed that women’s interest in psychology also comes into play:
“Compared to men, women liked reading about the psychological content of true crime stories. Stories where a killer was interviewed by an FBI profiler, or that you’re trying to get to the inner workings of a killer in some way.”
Criminologist Scott Bonn suggests true crime viewers like the element of mystery. “Everybody loves a whodunnit. By watching these true-crime shows, even if you’re not necessarily there for the shock value and the excitement, there’s the appeal of maybe I can solve the case before the authorities can.”
Thinking about my own past addiction to true crime, I did get enthralled in the mystery of it. Something about the darkness of it resonated with me. Maybe it’s similar to how some people enjoy horror stories.
The psychological toll on viewers
True-crime content may seem harmless. But for sensitive viewers like myself, there’s a psychological toll in exposing yourself to too much second-hand violence.
I was reminded of how these stories used to affect me when I watched a vlogger addicted to true-crime podcasts driving through a middle-class neighborhood in a locked SUV. She was getting visibly agitated as she described one home as “looking like someone would get murdered there.”
She was on a suburban street in the middle of the day.
This is not just one person’s overreaction. The Cleveland Clinic confirms that true-crime consumption can elicit high levels of unwarranted fear, such as perpetual generalized fear, being wary of others for no reason, and fear of leaving the home.
In this same article, psychologist Dr. Chivonna Childs says that if you’re engaging in unreasonable behaviors such as checking and re-checking your locks, fearing dead bodies in the basement, or hesitating to leave the house, you should reconsider your true-crime habit.
A harmless enjoyment of being scared is one thing, but surely one should reconsider true-crime podcasts long before the issue has gotten that bad?
After my panic walking home, I cut myself off from true-crime content for years. Even so, it took a while for my brain to re-regulate and regain the ability to distinguish between a truly threatening situation and a harmless shortcut.
Today I watch the occasional true-crime documentary with few ramifications. However, I can still get caught up in certain images. One magazine featured a true-crime story in which the killer entered a sleeping man’s room, picked him up, and threw him into his dresser before killing him.
The sheer unnecessary callousness of a detail like that can haunt me for weeks.
Exploiting the victim and their loved ones
The biggest issue with true crime content is its exploitative nature. After all, you can’t create these podcasts and documentaries without someone being murdered first.
It seems reasonable to assume that constant exposure to true-crime stories desensitizes many viewers to the actual tragedies they’re based on. One popular true-crime podcast is called Wine and Crime. The hosts of the popular podcast My Favorite Murder wrote a book called Stay Sexy and Don’t Get Murdered.
Meanwhile, the victim can’t consent to have their story told and has no say in the narrative. And they’re not the only ones being exploited. While some true-crime content is made in collaboration with the victim’s family, some of it is made against their strong objections.
Families and loved ones can suffer tremendously as a result of crimes being used for entertainment. Imagine suffering the unimaginable loss of a loved one, and then having their story co-opted and offered up to the public as fodder for their latest Netflix and chill session.
One of the more vocal families is that of Hae Min Lee, the young woman whose murder is the subject of the first season of NPR’s Serial.
Lee’s family made a heartwrenching statement about how the podcast and subsequent armchair investigations impacted them.
The events of this past week have reopened wounds few can imagine. It remains hard to see so many run to defend someone who committed a horrible crime, who destroyed our family, who refuses to accept responsibility, when so few are willing to speak up for Hae. She stood up for what was right, regardless of popular opinion.
Mindy Pendleton tried to stop Netflix from making a documentary about her stepson’s killer. One of her emails stated: “As a parent, a fellow human being, I beg you not to do this. PLEASE don’t do this!”
The show, entitled I Am A Killer, became a top 10 hit for the streaming service. One of Pendleton’s family members says: “When we continue to give numbers to these shows, they keep making them and real people living real lives keep getting re-traumatized every time.”
What’s more, creators can use the argument of “narrative” to make choices about what facts to share with audiences and what to conceal. This article identifies three cases in which the way the story was told seemed to lead the public to a certain conclusion.
Each one of these issues could be a post in and of itself. However, the problematic nature of true crime stories will likely continue to be ignored as long as they pull in big numbers for the platforms providing them. Knowing what we do, it’s up to the viewer to determine what type of content they want to support.
As for me, I’m going to move to fictional crime stories the next time I want a mystery fix.
Thank you for reading. Here’s a little more pop culture analysis for you.
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