The Business Behind True Crime

Since the release of the 2014 podcast Serial, which explored the murder conviction of Adnan Syed, true crime has become a hugely profitable entertainment genre. 

One of its most recent outputs is Monsters, which debuted on Netflix in September. The series, created by Ryan Murphy, is a dramatised telling of the story of Lyle and Erik Menendez, who killed their parents in 1989. It’s far from relaxing viewing, yet Monsters debuted at number one on the streaming platform, with 12.3 million views in the first four days after its release. Its popularity again raises the question of what drives the incredibly lucrative business of true crime. 

The past decade has seen a boom in the genre: Dirty John; Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, with Zac Efron as Ted Bundy; Dahmer in 2022, with Evan Peters as serial killer Jefferey Dahmer; and The Staircase in 2022, starring Colin Firth as Michael Petersen, to name but a few. 

Seeking out true crime and horror stories goes back to the middle ages, when twisted tales of the day were shared through song, ensuring access to those who couldn’t read. This distribution of information among communities acted both as entertainment and survival mechanism, a way of gathering information to be used should one encounter a similar situation. Although the output has changed – from song to podcast and film – the purpose remains the same. 

While research suggests watching horror films provides an opportunity to experience something suspenseful in a controlled environment, releasing feel-good chemicals of adrenaline, endorphins and dopamine, with true crime, the motivation can be more serious. In 2024, Corinna Perchtold-Stefan, a biological psychology researcher, and colleagues found women were more likely to watch a true crime series than men, with women seeking out such stories from a desire to gain knowledge and skills to prevent real-life attacks. Similarly, University of Illinois psychology professor Chris Fraley and assistant professor Amanda Vicary found women were more likely to choose crime novels if it included either a “clever trick” to escape an attacker, or a psychological profile of the perpetrator. This tendency for ‘negative human information seeking’ guarantees that there will always be a demand for murderous stories.

Such motivations pose cause for concern, considering the sensational fashion in which certain storytellers treat these crimes. Speaking out against the Dahmer Netflix series that sensationalised the murder of her brother, Errol Lindsey, Rita Isbell wrote for Insider that it was “sad” Netflix was “making money” off the capitalisation of the tragedy and hoped that some of the profits would be donated to the family of the victims. Lindsey’s cousin, Eric Perry, also spoke out against the show, telling the Los Angeles Times: “We’re all one traumatic event away from the worst day of your life being reduced to your neighbor’s favorite binge show.”

Even when the narrative is handled with care, the impact on those at the centre of the stories can still be painful. Brother of Hae Min Lee, the ex-girlfriend Adnan Syed was accused of murdering, told a court during a 2022 hearing: “This isn’t a podcast for me. It’s real life.” 

While there may be some benefit to sharing these stories by creating the perception of vigilance, there isn’t yet any data on the real life benefits of whether these shows actually increase safety. However, in a 2020 study, lecturer at the Institute of Criminology and Legal Policy Matti Näsi and colleagues found that increased consumption of crime news didn’t have any impact on avoidance behaviour. 

While there are many reasons people are drawn to these stories, viewers – particularly women – may turn to these shows with a sense of precaution and vigilance, as people have done for centuries. However, whether this aligns with the promise of these shows is far from sure.