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None of us talk about the inherent predatory nature of true crime documentaries. They pick over the bones of cold cases and unspeakable crimes, retraumatize survivors, dramatize crimes to the point of sensationalism, and directly profit, as a result, off of the success of the project. In the last decade, true crime has become a booming subgenre in entertainment, which feels, upon closer inspection, somewhat mercenary. As a person with an interest in true crime, I understand the fascination that comes with the genre. As a woman, there’s a morbid curiosity that comes with true crime stories and it isn’t difficult at all to put myself into the shoes of the victims and survivors — the majority typically young women. Sure, each story acts as a warning and a lesson, and it’s exciting to learn when a criminal is caught but the essence of what is so attractive about these stories is the cautionary tale.
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