If it bleeds, it leads.
This macabre expression describes the news media’s tendency to emphasize coverage of stories involving death, serious injury or the potential for either. News broadcasts will often begin with stories of murders, kidnappings, car accidents and natural disasters because these topics grab viewers’ attention.
Over the last decade, and especially the last five years, America’s fascination with murder and other violent crimes has magnified thanks to the popularization of “true crime,” a genre of non-fiction storytelling that examines the details of gruesome transgressions and the subsequent investigations.
True-crime, and its fictional counterpart, murder mystery, have exploded in popularity. But why? And what, if anything, does this penchant for violent stories say about our society?
In 2014, This American Life released a podcast titled, “Serial,” about the murder of a Baltimore woman in 1999. It’s tough to overstate the cultural impact of this 10-episode series; Serial was perhaps the catalyst for both the popularization of podcasts and the modern true-crime fascination.
“A lot of the credit [for the popularity of true crime] lies with the podcast “Serial.” When it launched in 2014, Serial smashed all podcast records. The first season has been downloaded more than 300M times.”
– Arwa Mahdawi, The Guardian
The correlation between the popularity of true crime and murder mystery and the rise of new media like podcasts and on-demand streaming is strong.
“Technology has also assisted the gentrification of gore. New production platforms such as Netflix allow for greater experimentation with long-form storytelling. Rather than telling a whodunnit in an hour, shows like Making a Murderer have taken true crime in a new direction which is more experiential.”
– Jean Murley, The Rise of True Crime: 20th-Century Murder and American Popular Culture
But why are we so captivated by these gruesome and disturbing stories? In a time in which certain sensitivities, like political correctness, seem to be at an all time high, why are tales of violent malfeasance consumed insatiably?
“The public’s fascination with serial killers on television is multifaceted and complex. Serial killers tantalize people much like traffic accidents, train wrecks or natural disasters. The actions of a serial killer may be horrible to behold but much of the public simply cannot look away due to the spectacle.”
– Scott Bonn, Why We Love Serial Killers
The #MeToo movement has brought new awareness to the extent to which women face unwanted sexual advances, which might help explain why the genre is especially popular among young-adult women.
“The genre is more popular amongst women than men. All women have felt vulnerable at some point in their lives and having experienced that type of paranoia makes the genre more relatable.”
– Becca Gmerek, Red Summit Productions
Reportedly, true crime provides a feeling of education, as well as entertainment, for many women.
“By learning about murders—who is more likely to be a murderer, how do these crimes happen, who are the victims, etc.—people are also learning about ways to prevent becoming a victim themselves.”
– Amanda Vicary, Associate Professor of Psychology, Illinois Wesleyan.
Social media also contributes to the infatuation with crime shows. “Serial” and “Making A Murder” both have about 800k followers across Facebook and Twitter, and these communities erupt after each new episode. Now, viewers can easily access an enormous community of fellow-watchers, whereas in the past, these discussions were more insular — confined to the crowd at the water cooler or bunco night.
True (Crime) Detective
Season three of True Detective masterfully illustrates the modern fascination with violent crime by casting the viewer as a true crime conspiracy theorist.
As the premiere of TD3 approached, the narrative surrounding the series was, essentially, singular: season one was a triumph and season two, well, it stunk. The preeminent question: Would installment three be a return to the first season’s form or would viewers once again be disappointed? If the latter actualized, it would likely mean the end of a series that once held such tremendous promise.
The first two episodes of season three aired the same night and it was immediately clear: season three would be more like season one than the lackluster middle-child.
However, after two episodes, it seemed almost too much like season one. (Warning: Spoilers below.)
S1 & S3 Initial Similarities:
The Duo: Two male detectives, one of the quiet, conservative, by-the-book type, and the other an eccentric, tormented product of years of service-induced trauma (season one’s Detective Rust Cohle spent four years embedded deep undercover as a narcotics agent with a murderous drug cartel. Season three’s Detective Wayne Hays spent two years alone in the Vietnam Jungle, tracking and killing the Viet-cong). The audience is introduced to both men as detectives struggling to reintegrate themselves into “normal” society.
The Case: In S1E1, a young woman is found dead under a tree in the-middle-of-no-where Louisiana. Her body is posed in a kneeled position of worship, surrounded by eerie totems made of sticks and straw. In S3E1, a young boy is found dead in a cave in the Ozarks of Arkansas. He is posed with his hands joined in a praying-position. Straw dolls found outside of the cave appear to be totems left behind by the killer.
120 minutes into season three, the audience was left to wonder: Are these cross-season similarities sheer laziness on the part of the writers who are recycling old tropes? Or is there a larger link between the two narratives in play?
As S3’s trio of timelines (1980, 1990, and 2015) twist and turn, we learn that Detective Hays’ wife, Amelia, has written a best-selling true crime novel about the murder/kidnapping of the Purcell children, the case to which her husband was assigned. The novel’s fanfare and conspiracy mongering has brought the case into the 90’s pop-culture sphere.
In the 2015 timeline, we learn that the case has once again been brought into the public eye. This time, thanks to true crime blogs and social media communities. An old and despondent Hays is interviewed by Elisa Montgomery, a true crime documentary filmmaker, about his knowledge of the Purcell case and the controversy surrounding it.
As the season progresses more similarities between season one and season three emerge:
Unseen, rich, white men pull the strings: We learn that S3’s focal crime, and the subsequent coverup, was likely orchestrated by the Hoyte family, a wealthy white family with connections to local and state government in Arkansas. The Hoyte’s also own the factory that employs hundreds of local residents, including the mother of the missing children. Of course, in season one, the pattern of kidnappings and murders were ultimately coordinated by members of the Tuddle family. The Tuddles are well connected in Louisiana politics and run a Tuddle Ministries, a suspicious megachurch in the area.
Groundskeepers: In season one, the man Eroll Childress, a groundskeeper at Tuttle-owned churches and schools, is ultimately found responsible for the series of kidnapping, rapes, and murders that have taken place throughout the season. In the final episodes of season three, we are re-introduced to Mike Ardoin, the childhood friend of missing Lucy Purcell and the last witness to have seen her before she was kidnapped in 1980. A decade later, Ardoin is now the groundskeeper at a half-way house — the last place Lucy was seen alive in 1990.
Symbols: In addition to the straw totems, there are other symbolic similarities between S1 and S3.
In S3E6, we see potential references to S1 when Hays revisits the childhood home of the missing children. The spiral spray painted on the wall has an obvious likeness to S1’s “crooked spiral” the most prevalent, recurring symbol used in the Tuddle crimes.
Additionally, the Illuminati symbol is an ode to the conspiratorial theme present in both seasons — the idea that these crimes have not occurred in isolation, they are related to, and the result of, a secret, powerful organization pulling the strings behind the scene. In the same episode, the missing girl’s uncle tells the detectives: “There are people trying to make sure that none of your questions can never be answered.” A clear indication that there are unseen forces pulling strings behind the scenes.
Eventually, the S3 stops hinting at the similarities between the S1 crimes and flat-out acknowledges the potential connection between the crimes: Elisa Montgomery, actually shows Hays a news article covering the crimes in season one and asks if he believes there is a connection between the two crimes.
The Reveal
True Detective gave the audience plenty of reasons to suspect a connection between the S1 and S3 crimes, and goes as far as to directly acknowledge the potential conspiracy in S3E7. Although none of the cross-season clues are substantial enough to serve as indisputable proof that the crimes are related, the collection of evidence is certainly compelling.
The season three finale ultimately reveals that there is no connection between the S1 and S3 crimes. Along the way, the viewer is gently encouraged to connect the dots between the first and third seasons but the bread crumbs connecting the two cases are ultimately proven to be coincidental, rather than conspiratorial. The realization for the audience is genius: like the passionate fans of Amelia’s novel, and similar to the true crime fervor that motivates Montgomery’s 2015 documentary, the S3 viewers had become crime conspirators themselves, desperate to find a link between unrelated events.