The other side of the crime equation that we don’t always think about
The existence and variety of crime shows available to TV viewers and radio listeners tells us that on some level, crime—particularly murder—fascinates us. Maybe it’s our voyeuristic instinct to witness the darkest side of humanity, or maybe it’s a way of reassuring ourselves that at the end of the episode, justice will be served and evil will once again be conquered. A few notable documentary-style series have achieved huge popularity in the last year or so, among them HBO’s six-part documentary The Jinx and the Netflix original Making a Murderer, as well as the podcast Serial.
These shows demonstrate for their audiences both the frustration of the bureaucratic red tape in the criminal justice system (What do you mean, Robert Durst can’t be tried for two horrific murders until he serves 85 months for illegally possessing a gun?) and the failures of that system to convict the right person. They often humanize the “killer” in a way that does a lot to draw empathy for causes such as prisoners’ rights, and can often demonstrate the devastation on the lives of those close to the convicted or accused, including the person themselves. Many of these crimes were committed decades ago, and it’s easy to forget that the people on the receiving end of this violence, regardless of who perpetrated it, were real people whose lives were forever altered.
As viewers removed by space and time, I think that it’s easy to ignore the impact that depicting these events as entertainment can have on the people whose lives the events affected.
In a perspective-taking exercise, imagine for a moment that someone close to you is violently murdered. Amid the grief and anger, alongside a myriad of other emotions that you may experience in the wake of their death, imagine that you’re considered one of the lucky families because the police catch, convict, and imprison the killer of your loved one. For months, or even years, imagine you experience just a few of the common mental and physical symptoms associated with this kind of trauma; you have trouble sleeping, you don’t want to talk to anyone, you lose your appetite, you have nightmares, and you feel like nobody understands what you’re going through. As time goes by, imagine that you slowly begin to accept what has happened, to cope, and to begin to move on, but you understand that your life has been forever changed, and not a day goes by that you don’t think about the person you lost.
Now give it some more time, let’s say ten years, and then imagine that one day you turn on the TV and come across a crime show. They say your loved one’s name, and with a jolt you realize that somebody has come across their story and made it into something that is supposed to entertain an audience for 42 minutes. There may be real footage from the trial, or real crime scene photos, or real interviews or photos of the person convicted with taking your loved one away in a violent and traumatic way.
Personally, I can’t begin to imagine the feelings of anger, disgust, and violation that these family members or people close to the crime must feel, not only on their own behalf for being forced to experience it again, but also on behalf of the victim of the crime who cannot speak for themselves or tell their story.
Imagine scrolling through Google News, or Facebook, and seeing this killer’s name come up in conversation, or in posts and news articles about this show. The name that appears in the headline is never the victim’s, so think about what it means that the killer’s name becomes so well-known but the person they killed often becomes dehumanized and disregarded. They are referred to, for example, as “Robert Durst’s victim.”
While you could argue that these crime shows serve some sort of higher social or cultural purpose, or that this imagining of what it must be like for families of the victims is melodramatic, I think it’s important to consider how invasive these series can be by the nature of their subject matter.
On the other hand, sometimes families of victims are involved in these shows or documentaries as a way of commemorating their loved one, but this still involves reliving the events in detail, and it’s easy to imagine the painful, difficult emotions that these programs may bring up.
I’m not necessarily saying that these shows shouldn’t exist; I’m just saying that the damage done by popularizing someone else’s trauma and pain for mass entertainment should be considered and handled with respect by both the producers and the audience.