Are true crime shows making us sympathize with killers?

Over the past several years, the popularity of true crime series has skyrocketed, and I, like many other people, ended up caught by this wave. Be it stories involving serial killers, intricate offenders or intriguing cases, the appeal seems undeniable. However, lately, one question has begun to bother me more and more: are these productions making us sympathize with murderers? With Netflix bringing productions like Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story, A Friend of the Family, and the controversial Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story, the line between comprehending the motives behind heinous crimes and romanticizing the offenders seems increasingly blurred.

I understand that these productions often intend to offer a wider perspective, even maybe educational, of what drives a person to commit such striking crimes. But what happens when these stories are interpreted by famous and charismatic actors? Suddenly, the “monster” turns into someone familiar, a face we are used to seeing in our favorite movies and TV series, and that messes up our perception. It’s a weird mix between awe and discomfort, because the brilliant acting ends up sparking some type of empathy that, in my opinion, should be addressed.

For example, in the Menendez brother’s case, the Netflix show dives deep into the family’s conflicts and the traumatic story that led the brothers to commit such a brutal crime. The production does not deny the severity of the murders, but at the same time, by exploring the abuses suffered by the brothers, it ends up sparking a certain compassion. I caught myself questioning how far the line between comprehending a difficult situation and creating a dangerous sympathy goes. It’s as if the nuances of the circumstances turned the act into something less shocking, which is a quite unsettling thought.

And then there’s something else: the cast. When famous and talented actors take on these parts, the connection between the audience and the characters intensifies. It’s no wonder that Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story caused so much controversy. Evan Peters, known for his charismatic parts in different productions, brought this complexity to the character that goes beyond terror—he managed to show Dahmer’s human side, which ironically makes us look at the murderer as a person, with failures and sufferings. But is this really what we want to see? Dahmer isn’t some tragic antihero; he is a serial killer; someone whose crimes were incredibly ruthless and terrifying. And, even so, we find ourselves captivated by the story, as if it was just another drama.

These productions seem to walk this fine line between a report and entertainment, and I’m not sure this line should ever be crossed. Charismatic and well-known actors can, unintentionally, soften the impact of the acts of these figures, as if they were putting a “friendly face” on the horror. The consequence of this, in my opinion, is that the audience can end up more mesmerized than shocked, more curious than outraged. And when entertainment starts to mask the real weight of such serious crimes, that’s where the real danger lies.

Another important aspect is how these shows are promoted and consumed. Netflix, for instance, makes heavy investments into marketing campaigns that put these characters into the spotlight. Suddenly we are bombarded with pictures, interviews with the cast and even memes circulating social media. I have already caught myself scrolling down my feed and bumping into “cute” posts about these true crime series, which makes me question to what extent are we turning the stories of victims and perpetrators into disposable media products. And, when that happens, the felon’s image ends up being a part of a “brand”. To me, that’s when we cross the line of better judgment.

Recently, a friend mentioned to me that she was surprised at how much she “understood” the motives of the Menendez brothers after watching the series. And that got me thinking: how healthy is this understanding? Of course, it's important to reflect on the social and psychological contexts that lead a person to commit a crime. But this reflection shouldn't erase or soften the responsibility of these people. When the narrative comes too close to “humanizing” the criminal, we run the risk of normalizing monstrosity.

To me, what is lacking in many of these productions is greater attention to the toll on the victims and their families. When we watch these dramas, it's easy to forget that the stories are real, that the tragedies really happened and that, while we're entertained, there are people who have actually lost their loved ones. Imagine being a relative of a victim and seeing the killer of a family member portrayed by a talented and charismatic actor who sparks empathy. That, to me, is disrespectful to the memory of the victims.

Ultimately, I believe these productions need to find a balance. It is possible to explore the criminal mind without falling into the trap of turning murderers into complex characters who spark our sympathy. It is a challenge, of course, but a necessary one. We must remember that there are limits to what should or shouldn’t be romanticized, and that certain stories should cause us more aversion than interest. After all, the aim shouldn’t be to sympathize with murderers, but rather that of understanding the gravity of their actions. The line between empathy and romanticizing may be very subtle, but it’s a line that, in my opinion, should never be crossed.