The Lumberjack



Students Serving The Cal Poly Humboldt Campus and Community Since 1929

Tag: true crime

  • The trouble with true crime

    The trouble with true crime

    by Camille Delany

    As a high schooler, I’d often listen to podcasts while jogging in the country by my house, or when walking to school. As I searched for compelling entertainment in the nascent medium, one genre rose to the top: true crime. It wasn’t just me, either. The boom seemed to begin with the success of NPR’s Serial in 2014, after which podcast platforms became increasingly dominated by the genre. Rehashings of cold cases, mysterious disappearances, and serial killings became objects of public fascination, along with the real life stories of cults, shootings, and disasters. 

    True crime has long enjoyed mainstream popularity in the form of books and television, but the rise of podcasts and streaming has brought it to a wider audience than ever. However, my experience as an avid listener of true crime podcasts was not entirely positive, and I’ve also recently heard peers discuss negative aspects of their interest in crime stories.

    A friend who used to be a huge fan of a few specific true crime podcasts says she’s going to cut back on her listening, as it increases her anxiety. This parallels my experience; when I was a dedicated listener of crime podcasts, I noticed myself feeling paranoid and less willing to interact with people outside of my immediate circles.

    The true crime genre isn’t populated with tales of wage theft or corporate environmental destruction, even though crimes like these have enormous impacts and their perpetrators are rarely brought to justice. Even if we narrow our focus to violent crime, true crime narratives rarely follow the most common type of that, either.

    FBI homicide data for 2019 shows that in most cases of violent crime, both perpetrator and victim are male, and that they typically know each other. Trends like these aren’t apparent if your knowledge of crime statistics is informed by a true crime podcast feed, as I notice is increasingly common. 

    In my experience discussing the genre with friends and acquaintances, true crime consumption is linked with an idea of “research.” Often an enthusiasm for the genre is coupled with a belief that the information presented over the course of the narrative will aid in one’s survival. Engaging with it can become a vicious cycle. People who already feel themselves to be vulnerable are attracted to the genre, and the repetitive narratives of assault and kidnapping increase their anxiety. This keeps them returning in the hopes of gleaning insight into avoiding victimization. 

    However, it’s unlikely that consuming true crime media does much to improve the personal safety of women, in part because the type of crimes most frequently profiled are vanishingly rare, and exceedingly difficult to prevent. Women are already conditioned to fear strangers, even as, statistically speaking, acquaintances and domestic partners are far more dangerous. 

    The popular true crime podcast My Favorite Murder signs off with the glib tagline, “Stay sexy, don’t get murdered.” This about sums up the attitude of many true crime creators and audiences with which I take issue. The process of consuming a true crime narrative to reassure yourself that you could have seen the “warning signs” and avoided death, kidnapping, or sexual assault is a form of victim-blaming. 

    Also, the genre’s commodification of tragedy and violence is uncomfortable at best and, at worst, damaging to victims and their families. I’m not asking anyone to quit listening to their favorite podcast, just to think more critically about the media they engage with. What structures are supported by it? How does it make you feel?

  • Why shifting the true-crime narrative matters

    Why shifting the true-crime narrative matters

    As a true crime junkie, I will and have consumed all things released that I can. That includes documentaries, podcasts, books— basically label anything true crime and I am there.

    In the true crime community, there is ongoing discussion as to whether or not retelling these stories is glorifying criminals and exploiting survivors for views and reads, which ultimately equate to dollars. You can tune in to any crime program and walk away whenever you find yourself getting bored, without the cognitive realization that the reality still stands. Survivors and victims’ families must live with this day in and day out.

    Recently, Netflix released a new documentary, “Night Stalker: The Hunt for a Serial Killer,” based on the crimes of Richard Ramirez, an elusive and controversial serial killer active in the mid ’80s. Netflix is no stranger to true crime docuseries, they have a slew of them in their catalog, but now with the Night Stalker we’re seeing a deviation from the traditional storytelling.

    Shifting the narrative is crucial for true crime. The new style is not as controversial or shocking because we’re not seeing the nitty-gritty, dirty details, but, the stories of survivors and victims are still able to be told. True crime is built on shock value, but it’s vital to remember that there are real people behind the headlines.

    Television writer Kayla Cobb explains in an interview with “Decider,” “They’re all too focused on providing some sort of explanation about how this monster came to be that the reason they’re monsters — the very people whose lives they ruined become sidelined. These survivors become secondary characters in the story about the worst moment of their lives.”

    One of the most popular true crime documentaries released last year, “Seduced: Inside The Nxivm Cult,” was based on Keith Raniere who profited off of people in a multi-level marketing scheme turned cult. Show creator Cecilia Peck chose to focus and let the story be told by survivors.

    “One of the reasons that people will speak about traumatic subjects is because they believe that others can learn from their experience,” Peck said in an interview with “Decider.” “They want to turn that trauma into activism.”

    Recognizing true crime as more than entertainment allows for uncomfortable conversations to take place about reform – how we approach and prosecute predators, how to support survivors and how we can continue to keep our communities and loved ones safe.

    True crime journalist, Billy Jensen, has highly publicized the idea of crowdsolving, “utilizing the eyes, ears, and expertise of individuals, both locally and across the globe via social media, to aid in the solving of crimes”, and citizen detectives, “an individual who devotes his or her time and expertise to aid in the solving of crime, without compensation or expectation of reward.”

    Through Jensen’s podcast with Paul Holes, the notorious cold case detective who solved the Golden State Killer case 40 years later, they utilize their standing with law enforcement to vet the tips and suggestions from “citizen detectives” to pass on to detectives on active cold cases.

    Take a look at how cases are being handled now. Cases from decades ago are being solved through DNA submitted in public databases, through tips after reintroducing the cases, through real and honest conversation between media and their audience.

    And that is what true crime should be, a lesson, a warning, advocacy. The shift has, and will, continue to create a space for empathy and reflection, healing for survivors and families of victims.