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Opinions
Article by Abby Hernan Graphic by Sarah Lin
TRUE
Since Gabby Petito’s disappearance on Sept. 11, Twitter feeds, TikTok “For You” pages, and headlines have been flooded by the news of her murder. However, unlike previous murder cases, it is not just the police and the FBI searching for Petito’s killer. Instead, it is everyone with internet access and some extra free time. Now, everyone can go online and “play police” for a couple of hours just by looking through the thousands of pieces of evidence available at their fingertips. However, people’s fascination with crime doesn’t just end with the Petito case. There is a whole genre that capitalizes on this interest: true crime. From documentaries like “Tiger King” and “Making a Murder” to podcasts like “Crime Junkie” and “Serial,” anything labeled true crime is bound to have viewers flocking to it. The allure of true crime is that it tells a story that pulls a viewer in. It roams down a path of tense conflicts, unimaginable plotlines and feelings of urgency which will all, hopefully, culminate in the mystery being solved. “I think the storytelling for me is kind of why I like it,” senior and avid
November 2O21
CRI
true-crime listener Jordan Alch said. “The storytelling has elements that make a good story, like tension and antagonists.” A perfect piece of true-crime media that is ready to captivate audiences requires one essential element: a real, but simultaneously entertaining story. However, this balancing act of truth and entertainment often tips the scale towards collapsing in one direction. A typical documentary features a bloodthirsty serial killer attacking attractive white girls until eventually the police come and save the day. This same storyline is marketed over and over again as “true” crime when, in actuality, this feel-good narrative of the evil villain losing is far from what real crime looks like.
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In reality, serial killers are extremely rare and attacks usually come from someone the victim has a close relationship with. Victims are usually poor, people of color and/or trans. Also, according to FBI’s Uniformed Crime Report data, there are currently 250,000 unsolved murder cases in the United States. The facade created by the true-crime genre is marketed over and over again as real life, deceiving viewers into thinking they are learning while they stray further from the truth. The obvious solution to this would be to focus on a wider array of real cases. However, that raises a new obstacle of making sure the program is made ethically instead of using someone’s trauma as a quick cash grab. True crime has to balance making good, shocking content with making sure others’ entertainment does not come at the cost of hurting the victim or their family. Unfortunately, the appeal of a jolting story usually prevails over morals.
One after another, a new and explosive limited series on Netflix invite thousands of people to add their questionable opinions and theories to the story. But while viewers can move on, the victim and their family do not get this same luxury. Recently, Netflix released a true-crime documentary titled “Sophie: A Murder in West Cork.” The documentary details the 1996 murder of Sophie Toscan du Plantier while she was vacationing in West Cork, Ireland. The documentary interviewed an array of people including her parents, friends, son, residents of West Cork and a man named Ian Bailey. Ian Bailey was able to provide much insight into Sophie’s murder, such as information about who the main suspects were, how the police handled the investigation, and the effect the murder had on the small town of West Cork. However, later in the documentary, viewers were shocked to find out that Bailey was no ordinary witness, but the killer himself.
