The True Crime Boom: When Grief Becomes Entertainment
There’s something deeply unsettling about the way we consume tragedy today. Take the latest addition to the true crime catalog: Netflix’s The Idaho Murders: College Nightmare, a docuseries about the 2022 quadruple homicide of four University of Idaho students. Personally, I think this case has become a Rorschach test for our cultural obsession with true crime—and it’s not a pretty reflection.
Why Another Series?
Netflix isn’t the first to capitalize on this story. Peacock and Amazon Prime Video already have their versions. But Netflix claims this one is the “definitive” account. What makes this particularly fascinating is the way platforms compete to own the narrative of a tragedy. It’s not just about telling a story; it’s about claiming the most authentic, most gripping, most definitive version. In my opinion, this speaks to a larger trend: the commodification of grief. True crime has become a genre where the line between honoring victims and exploiting their stories is blurrier than ever.
The Humanization Dilemma
Director Skye Borgman says the series aims to focus on the victims—Kaylee Goncalves, Madison Mogen, Xana Kernodle, and Ethan Chapin—rather than the killer. On the surface, this feels like a noble goal. But here’s the thing: in a genre that thrives on sensationalism, can we ever truly humanize victims without reducing them to plot points? One thing that immediately stands out is the tension between intention and execution. Borgman’s statement is heartfelt, but it raises a deeper question: Can any documentary truly escape the voyeuristic nature of true crime?
The Role of Access
Netflix boasts “unprecedented access” to the victims’ families and police footage. This is where it gets tricky. Access is the currency of true crime documentaries, but it’s also a double-edged sword. From my perspective, the more access we have, the more we risk crossing ethical boundaries. Bodycam footage, police interviews, forensic evidence—these are tools meant to solve crimes, not to entertain. What many people don’t realize is that by packaging these elements into a binge-worthy series, we’re turning real-life horror into a spectacle.
The Emotional Hook
Executive producer Joe Berlinger admits the case struck a nerve with him as a father. This is a common tactic in true crime: grounding the story in personal emotion to make it more relatable. But if you take a step back and think about it, this approach can feel manipulative. Are we supposed to care more because a filmmaker has daughters? What this really suggests is that true crime often relies on emotional shortcuts to justify its existence.
The Broader Implications
The true crime boom isn’t just about entertainment. It’s a reflection of our collective fascination with darkness, our need to make sense of the senseless. But it’s also a business. Amazon’s One Night in Idaho has already been renewed for a second season. A detail that I find especially interesting is how these series often outlive the cases they’re based on. The killer, Bryan Kohberger, has pleaded guilty, but the story continues—not because there’s more to uncover, but because there’s more to monetize.
Final Thoughts
As I reflect on The Idaho Murders: College Nightmare, I’m left with a sense of unease. True crime can be a powerful tool for raising awareness, but it can also be a voyeuristic indulgence. Personally, I think we need to ask ourselves: Are we honoring the victims, or are we just feeding our fascination with tragedy? The answer, I fear, is more complicated than any documentary can capture.
