Entertainment or Exploitation? The True Price of True Crime

In recent years, the interest in true crime has spiked due to the rise of podcasts, documentaries, Netflix series retellings, and even storytelling mukbang content. A striking example of this phenomenon is the case of Adnan Syed, whose conviction for the 1999 murder of Hae Min Lee was brought to the public’s attention through the podcast Serial. Sarah Koenig, who hosts the podcast, raised questions about discrepancies and highlighted serious flaws within the case throughout the episode. Through the advocacy of new legal teams and the national attention the case received, charges against Syed were dropped and he was released from prison in 2022.

In 2023, however, a Maryland appellate court reinstated Syed’s conviction, citing procedural violations. Young Lee, the brother of Hae Min Lee, did not receive appropriate notice regarding Syed’s release, which the Maryland Supreme Court deemed an “injustice.” This ruling has now made way for a new hearing, though the details remain uncertain. These recent developments, fueled in part by the renewed interest generated by the Serial podcast, illustrate the complex challenges and implications for all parties involved in this case.

There is an irrefutable merit to uncovering injustices and attempting to provide a voice for those who have been wronged, but unfortunately, not all cases are approached with the same level of caution. True crime’s surge in popularity has sparked an ethical debate about the fine line between awareness, education, and exploitation. As we continue to turn our attention towards the latest movie or special, we must stop to ask: Should we be addressing such matters in a way that feels so detached and exploitative?

True crime content has become a mainstay of contemporary media – which is abundantly true when we look at podcasts and online channels that have amassed millions of followers. The appeal is bizarre, yet multifaceted: true crime offers suspense and often presents the inner workings of the criminal mind. For many, it is a way to engage and attend to their curiosities without being involved directly, this can be a problem when there are no boundaries and there is no concern held for the actual victims.

It bears repeating that while there is value in shedding light on systemic injustices and biases in the legal system, the rapid capitalisation of the genre has also led to concerns over exploitation. Most of the time, these stories are told in a way that aims to attract viewers and create a spectacle of tragedy. This creates a blurred line of sorts; people who watch these videos want to be entertained and don’t think too much about the ethics of it all. But this, in its very essence, is unethical. 

Many documentaries, podcasts, and YouTube creators fail to centre the lives of the victims and focus instead on the gruesome details of these events. This shift in focus often turns criminals into celebrities and dilutes the severity of these cases. Notorious murderers such as Ted Bundy and Richard Ramirez have been romanticized, and even idolized by many. This disturbing phenomenon not only disrespects the victims and their families but also highlights a deeper issue, society’s complete desensitization to the suffering of others. Concurrently, families of victims are often retraumatized when the stories of their loved ones are told for the sole purpose of consumption. They are almost always never considered for permission and are forced to relive their pain as directors and content creators profit from their suffering.

Perhaps one of the most peculiar examples of the overconsumption of true crime media is the mukbang story hybrid videos that are popular on YouTube. When you type “true crime mukbang” in the search bar, you are immediately hit with a slew of edited thumbnails where the creator is usually fake gasping in front of photos of the victims or posing with enormous amounts of food. The actual videos are no better, as the creators in these videos proceed to tell stories of horrific murders while downing bowls of shrimp alfredo. The ‘lightheartedness’ that these creators attempt to bring to these videos falls short because not only are they not made in good faith, but also reflect a lack of tact and sensitivity.

The Black Mirror episode Loch Henry, explores these concerns poignantly. In the episode, a young couple set out to document a murder that took place, in hopes of creating a fascinating crime documentary. As they continue to investigate, they uncover not just the details of the crime, but the devastating impact it had on the victims’ families and the community.  This episode illustrates the moral dilemmas faced by those who choose to exploit tragedies that aren’t their own, and question whether it’s worth dismissing the agony of those affected. It challenges viewers to reflect on what they decide to consume and underscores how easy it is to lose sight of humanity when it is sensationalized.

As we continue to consume more stories about murder, it becomes easier to distance ourselves away from the victims and focus solely on the thrill of these stories. When we do this, victims are then reduced to TV characters rather than real humans who suffered. This detachment also makes way for a great lack of empathy; not only for victims but for others who have been on the receiving end of trauma and injustice as well. Exaggerating or presenting details that are out of context further distorts the severity of these events, and becomes counterproductive in the larger mission of shedding light on these stories.

The popularity of true crime is unlikely to waver anytime soon, and when approached carefully, can offer an opportunity to raise awareness about real-life events and the many flaws of the justice system, but it is important to recognise the line between informative content and mindlessly consuming the story of someone’s suffering just because you can. We must always remember that behind every docuseries or “mukbang story” lie real victims, their families, and the wave of misery that followed. The consumption of these stories must never come at the cost of their dignity.