True crime has never been more popular, and there is genuine good in that.
Documentaries, podcasts, and books have brought renewed attention to cases that went cold or were handled poorly by authorities. Public interest has led to tips, reopened investigations, and in some cases, convictions that would not have happened without that pressure. The genre has given a platform to families who had been ignored for years. It has raised important questions about institutional failures, bias in investigations, and whose deaths are considered worth pursuing.
At the same time, it is worth being honest about where the genre falls short.
What It Does Well
At its best, true crime holds systems accountable. When a case receives sustained public attention, law enforcement faces pressure to revisit evidence, explain gaps in their original investigation, and respond to questions that families have been asking for decades without answers.
It also humanizes victims. One of the most meaningful things a well-crafted investigation can do is restore a full person to the public imagination rather than a case number or a crime scene photo. The details of a person's life, their relationships, their voice, their humor, the things they cared about, matter. Telling those stories matters.
Where It Can Cause Harm
The problem is that the format does not always honor that responsibility.
Some true crime content treats investigation as entertainment in a way that can feel exploitative, particularly to families who are still grieving. When a case becomes a cultural moment, complete with fan communities, online sleuthing, and merchandise, it can be deeply disorienting for those who are still living inside it.
There is also the problem of amateur investigation. Online communities sometimes identify suspects with great confidence on very little evidence. People who share a name or a rough description with a suspect have had their lives disrupted by accusations that turned out to be entirely wrong. This is not justice. It is the appearance of justice, which is something quite different.
Finally, the genre has historically been drawn more to certain kinds of cases than others. Young, conventionally attractive, white female victims receive a disproportionate share of attention. Cases involving Indigenous women, Black victims, and those from marginalized communities have been underrepresented, a mirror of the same biases that affected the original investigations.
Consuming Thoughtfully
None of this means the genre should be abandoned. It means it should be consumed and produced thoughtfully.
For listeners and readers, that might mean asking: how is this story being told, and whose perspective is centered? Is the victim being treated as a full person? Is the family's wishes being respected? Is the content informing, or primarily entertaining at someone's expense?
For those of us who write in this space, those questions carry even more weight. The stories we tell about violence and loss have real people attached to them. That deserves care.