What if the most traumatic moment of your life became a stranger’s binge-worthy obsession?
The past ten years have seen a rise in popularity of true crime media, such as podcasts, documentaries, TV shows, movies, and books. A quick Google search for true crime media reveals podcasts like My Favorite Murder and Serial, the recent Netflix series Monsters about the Menendez brothers, and the many iterations of Jefferey Dahmer’s story. There seems to be no shortage of true crime content on the internet, where it sits ready for consumption by the morbidly curious.
According to Triton Digital’s 2024 Canadian Podcast Report, which spanned the period between April 2023 and March 2024, true crime was the most downloaded genre in Canada, with the top podcast being Dateline NBC, followed by SmartLess and Crime Junkie. With true crime outranking comedy and news, this provides context for exactly how popular the genre is, particularly among Canadians.
Audio storytelling also offers a unique approach to engaging audiences and shaping their understanding of crime compared to visual media.
Kelly Bergstrom, an associate professor in the department of communication & media studies, whose research focuses on how people spend their leisure time, explains:
“Podcasts are interesting because they often involve a lot of chatting and banter, so they are prime sites for developing parasocial relationships with the hosts. And when you develop a parasocial relationship with someone, it becomes a bit more difficult to critique them or you are more willing to give them the benefit of the doubt when they cross an ethical line.”
The impact on real people and communities
Although popular, true crime is no stranger to criticism, given its sensitive and triggering nature. One of the major discourses surrounding the genre is approaching difficult issues with care and respect instead of through a sensational gaze.
In March 2024, six people were murdered in their home in the Ottawa suburb of Barrhaven. The victims included four children, the youngest of whom was two months old. Jason Todd, a member of the Barrhaven community, shares how the incident changed his outlook on consuming true crime media.
“When I grew up — I think middle school, high school era — I had a huge, really bizarre phase where I was incredibly interested in serial killers and ended up consuming a lot of true crime stuff about that,” he says.
Todd explains that his family was one of many who were approached by various media outlets for interviews after the incident, sometimes even to the point of harassment. Todd, who was not in Ottawa at the time, recalls being contacted non-stop by media outlets on Facebook.
“I ended up getting messages too, even though I wasn’t even living in Ottawa at the time, and I just blocked [and] reported. But it was not to the degree that, I’m sure, [Todd’s mother] was getting, and my siblings were getting, because they were actually there in Ottawa,” he shares.
The emotional toll that true crime media can have on those connected to real-life cases is often overlooked, as exemplified by Todd’s experience. Relentless attention can feel invasive, especially when commercial interests overshadow the gravity of the events being discussed.
“My mom telling me about the baby crib out on the curb was one of the big things that stuck with me,” says Todd. “And then going back to hearing people talking about these gruesome crimes, or murders and rapes, and then just having the ‘by the way, if you use this code, you can get 25 per cent off your purchase,’ right in the middle — it’s kind of jarring. It doesn’t seem real. It just seems so ridiculous.”
Profiting from tragedy
True crime media also poses several ethical and moral dilemmas for both consumers and creators alike. Sometimes, audiences play a bigger role in the production of true crime content than the creators themselves.
“True crime is big business, so there’s been some interesting conversations happening in the creative space about who should be telling certain stories. There are some debates about who is doing it for the money or clout, and who is doing it for advocacy and/or educational reasons,” explains Bergstrom.
“A few years ago, My Favorite Murder ran into some troubles when an audience member wrote in and provided a ‘Hometown Murder’ (their name for listener-submitted stories) and the victim of the story they read on air heard them telling her story (and it was full of inaccuracies). This incident and its subsequent fallout for the podcast was actually what caused me to step back and re-think my engagement with the genre and planted the seeds for what eventually would become the book that I am working on now about true crime fandoms.”
In her research, Bergstrom has found that there is a generational preference for how audiences consume true crime content.
“When I talk to younger people who are interested in the genre, very few tell me that they are listening to podcasts. It is more YouTube (which may or may not be a true crime + something else style video, such as the “get ready with me” genre) or that they are consuming their true crime content via TikTok,” she explains.
Social media has played a major role in the commercial success of the true crime genre. By taking a complex topic that delves into the dark inner workings of the human psyche and making it more accessible for audiences, real-life tragedies are suddenly profitable.
One example is CrimeCon, an annual convention where fans gather to discuss all things true crime and mystery. For a full weekend, fans can immerse themselves in true crime discussions and events, with badges starting at $349 US. Despite the high entry fee, CrimeCon’s terms are strict: payments are completely non-refundable, regardless of disruptions due to illness, terrorism, security issues, or other “acts of God.” They also offer a plethora of merchandise that sport clever sayings, like “Stay at Home Detective” or “Stay Suspicious.”
“It feels exploitative, where the misery of others is used to entertain the masses, but most importantly make a profit. An exception to this is when these forms of media can make a positive change if [the case’s] convictions are dubious,” says Fazl Ahmad, a master’s student in biology.
The ethical concerns
True crime’s popularity is a double-edged sword. On one hand, depictions of real-life cases can serve as cautionary tales and advocate for community safety. Conversely, depictions of crime and violence can become dramatized and reiterated to the extent that they become nothing more than a headline.
“In popular media, I find a lot of true crime to indirectly glorify crime by painting a picture of the perpetrator as some sort of manipulator and mastermind capable of skillfully committing these acts and often staying undetected for some time,” says Tobi Agbede, a medical student at the University of Toronto.
“Although this is often done in an attempt to dramatize and make readers/listeners understand the intent and gravity of the crime, it rather romanticizes crime and gives the audience a one-sided view. In less common scenarios, when stories are told to highlight the victim’s POV, I find this to be a better approach at telling cautionary tales,” continues Agbede.
Feraidoon Javidi Parsijani, a first-year law and society student, shares a similar sentiment: “True crime can numb people to violence, but it can also raise awareness if done right.”
Others, like Sihat Salam, a first-year PhD student in biology, feel that it is up to the audience to approach true crime in media with caution. Viewer discretion is, in fact, advised.
“It depends mostly on the audience and how they want to perceive it. Documentaries and non-fiction media do a good job detailing the events, but people can be drawn to [them] for other reasons,” says Salam.
“It has more to do with how people are more aware of the world around them now compared to before when news wasn’t as accessible via news outlets or social media. True crime media is a part of a bigger puzzle that [has] already desensitized people quite a bit,” she adds.
Where do we draw the line?
While true crime media raises awareness about justice and societal issues, it also risks reducing genuine human suffering to entertainment alone. As we consume these stories — whether through podcasts, conventions, or streaming shows — it’s essential to consider not only why they captivate us, but also how they affect those directly impacted by crime.
True crime’s prevalence in media challenges us to question where we draw the line between storytelling and exploitation, and whether we can appreciate the genre responsibly, with a greater awareness of the people and realities behind each story.
