"I think I'm running out of True Crime shows," I said at the dinner table the other night.
"Sure looked like it," my husband said.
Earlier, as I was prepping the coconut shrimp and pineapple rice, I'd searched Netflix for something soothing to enjoy. You know, a crime show. But Netflix was just showing me one after another that I'd already seen. So I'd gone with Bikram, the story of the yoga guru who took America by storm and—shocker—turned out to be a sexual predator and a con man.
It wasn't a bad documentary, but it was a little already done. If you're a True Crime fan, which I would wager you are since you're reading my stuff, you understand what I mean.
I could go into my theory on why I think so many people like me turn to the macabre to decompress after a long day, but I think the obsession has already been pretty excellently explored in the HBO miniseries I'll Be Gone in the Dark.
And I could wax philosophical about how serial killers, who I'm obviously fascinated with and have been for most of my life, rose to prominence for a very good reason during the civil rights movements for racial and gender equality... but that cultural subtext is laid out pretty plainly in Skip Hollandsworth's The Midnight Assassin and John E. Douglas's Mindhunter, among a slew of other books.
Anyway, I was stuck watching Bikram while I made dinner. I gotta say, the smell of raw shrimp didn't exactly complement the visuals of a bunch of mostly naked people doing sweaty yoga.
I think I got into true crime in my preteens. Let's blame all those Goosebumps books for it, but I honestly don't know what sparked it. All I know is that whenever I caught a snippet of 20/20 or Dateline while I station surfed (we didn't have the channel with the schedule of shows back then; we still had to refer to the newspaper for a listing), I would stop immediately if I saw anything relating to a missing person or a brutal murder. Unsolved Mysteries and Rescue 911 were also go-tos.
I'm sure the pop of moral superiority was part of the appeal at first. "I would never get myself murdered like that," or "What an evil person! Lock him up and throw away the key!" Those sentiments feel great, especially when you're in the throes of puberty and very little makes sense anymore.
But then you get older and realize things are complicated, and not only is that okay, it's actually more interesting! Woohoo! And so a True Crime girl became a True Crime woman.
Like I said, though, I'm running out of options. I'm sure there are more amazing documentaries and books that I haven't found yet, but I don't know what they are.
So: If you have a recommendation, a True Crime book or show that I absolutely must watch, I beg of you: leave a comment and tell me! If I haven't seen it, I'll be in your debt, and if I have seen it, we can geek out about it together.
5 Best True Crime Docs About Cults
Cults are everywhere, turns out. It’s a shockingly easy business model, if you’re into that kind of thing. Not every cult is worthy of a true crime show about it, but the ones that are… phew! Go ahead and loosen up your jaw, because it will be on the floor in no time.
It’s easy to judge people who end up in cults (even though they’re the victims), but that pop of superiority isn’t always what keeps people watching. It’s often the opposite: the horror that we might’ve ended up in the same place, if propelled into the right circumstances.
But not all true crime is created the same, as we know from hours of time invested only to be disappointed, so here are 5 shows that will not disappoint or waste your time.
Heaven’s Gate (HBO)
You gotta love an alien-based cult. Shit gets weird really quick. But the wackiness of this group’s origin story is half of why it managed to form and take such a strong hold over its members. As we’ve seen in current events, the more far-fetched a claim, the more mental energy it takes to argue against it and unpack all the falsities and bullshit. Forget that there’s nothing provable about it in the first place. It makes for a great story!
Of course, as the so-called immortal leadership of this cult hits hard times (tricky to claim you’re immortal once you die), the numbers dwindle. But whoever is left after the cull is 180-proof cult ideology. That’s the only way it could end like it does…
Wild, Wild Country (Netflix)
Rajneeshpuram, like Heaven’s Gate, is a thing that could only have formed in the ‘70s. It’s New Age on steroids. But what sets this one apart is the soap opera quality of it. Backstabbing, scheming, major betrayals—so much fucking drama. Also, file this one away under “men creating sex cults in the name of spiritual teachings.” It’s a trope as old as time. Sometimes I wonder if it’s hard for narcissistic men to not create sex cults, ya know?
Beyond the twists and turns, this show is a solid artistic work. (Shout-out to the cults that film everything!) The editing is clean, and the story progresses organically. It doesn’t do that annoying thing where it holds back a big, important piece of information until the very end for the sake of it. If you’ve watched enough true crime, you know what I mean.
This is a fun one to watch not only because it’s wild, but because it’s relatively light on violence, so folks who are usually turned off from the genre for that reason can get into it.
Going Clear (HBO)
Yes, Scientology is a cult. Every cult expert classifies is this way, and when you watch this documentary, you’ll have a hard time arguing otherwise.
What this one does so well in a relatively short span of time is show you exactly how they get you. It attempts to answer the question of “How do people end up believing this absolute nonsense?” The lies start small, like most cult indoctrination. You learn some genuinely helpful psychological techniques, but with some unique language overlaid to disguise it. “Ah, maybe these people can help me!” And so they gain your trust as you descend one level deeper into the inferno. By the time the real batshit insane teachings come along, you look around, find your life is filled with people from the same cult, and think, Well, if they all believe it, maybe the problem is me. And the thought of leaving is paired with the knowledge that you’ll lose your entire social circle if you do. So you suck it up and step into the 9th circle of cognitive dissonance, and that dissonance breaks down any remaining sense you had.
Somehow, Going Clear manages to not only tackle that process of indoctrination, but expose larger systemic flaws in America, like how churches end up getting First Amendment protections through purely bureaucratic means, and the utter nonsense those protections allow them to do afterward.
I’ll end this one by saying that my L.E.O. husband watched it with me and couldn’t sleep afterward. Cop stuff? Not a big deal. Scientology? Nightmareville.
Sons of Sam (Netflix)
I love a good conspiracy that doesn’t lead to insurrection, assassination, or the unnecessary prolonging of a pandemic. This one’s got it.
We’ve all heard of the Son of Sam. If you’ve read any of John Douglas’s work, you probably know he interviewed David Berkowitz in prison and had a pretty epic conversation. But what Douglas didn’t uncover was the fact that the Son of Sam killings were very likely done by multiple people.
I dunno, y’all. After watching this one, I think I’m on board for the cult conspiracy. Too many people end up dead on the side for there not to be something going on, and as much as I loathe the whole Satanic Panic thing, sometimes people do use the concept of the devil to justify their evil impulses. Did the Devil make them do it? No. But the story might have inspired how they did it, and it might have emboldened their ego to go through with it.
Anyway, I’m ready to jump on this conspiracy theory, because it makes so much more sense than the narrative we’d been fed prior.
The Vow (HBO)
Another day, another sociopathic dude starting a sex cult. What sets this one apart is the intimate look you get into the lives of victims in the aftermath of escaping it. After all, one of them is the documentarian.
And that makes this extra interesting. A man who made the propaganda for the sex cult is now making a documentary about leaving it? How much can we trust the narrative from him? He certainly admits blame for some of the ideas he helped perpetuated in the leader’s inner circle, but I have a feeling there’s a lot left out to keep himself sympathetic. As you watch it, you’ll hear little snippets of things some of these members did to others—mentioned almost in passing—that make you shout, “the FUCK?” and then it’s never touched on again.
It’s a wild ride of sympathy and disgust, and you’ll never trust an NLP practitioner again (I don’t).
* * *
There are a ton of cult documentaries that didn’t make the cut. If there was one you think belongs in the top five, let me know in a comment.
If I Go Missing...
Are you prepared to be abducted?
I am. I don’t want to be, obviously, but if it happens, I’m about as well-positioned for it as possible. I have an “If I Go Missing” sheet for my husband with all my relevant passwords on it. He can log in and track my phone. Also, he’s a cop, so that’s a huge advantage. Police spouse goes missing, and you have an entire department dropping what they’re doing to look. Not everyone has that, which is extremely unfortunate.
For them. Not for me. I’ll be fine, like I said.
I was watching some true crime the other night, as I’m wont to do, and it occurred to me that the disaster wouldn’t be if I went missing and turned up dead. It would be if my husband died under mysterious circumstances.
Y’all, I would be so screwed.
As a crime writer, my browser history alone is enough to convince any jury that I’m guilty. God forbid he die by one of the methods I’ve googled. There’s no scenario that follows in which I would not be absolutely fucked.
And then there’s the part of every documentary where they interview people who knew the victim and the suspected killer. This, too, would spell catastrophe for me. My husband, Jack, is the kind of person everybody loves. I visit his extended family, and it’s clear he was always their favorite. “He’s such a sweet boy…” Wistful. Always said wistfully.
I’ve gone on a patrol ride-out with him, and even the criminals warm to him before long, and not just prior to their arrest, but after as well. He’s had people thank him for what he does while he’s carting them off to jail. They feel privileged to have gotten him as their arresting officer.
It’s bullshit, really. I don’t know how he pulls it off. Not even the most adept film crew would be able to find someone to spill the tea on him because his reputation is spotless. He’s even on good terms with all his exes. It’s freakish.
Meanwhile, you got me. Boy, oh boy, would people come crawling out of the woodwork to talk shit. I don’t mean to be this way, but there’s just something about me that attracts it. I’ve tried at various points in my life to be “nice” and all it’s amounted to was a bunch of people taking advantage of me, not recognizing my generosity or effort, and then talking shit about me anyway. So, I stopped trying. I’m still generous. I still act with integrity. I’m still honest. But I’m not nice in the way most people mean it when they talk about women. I’m not a doormat. That works well for me now, because it means I have boundaries, a life that suits me well, and no dead-weight relationships. But it won’t look so good if my sweet husband goes missing…
”Oh, Claire? Yeah, she really thought she was all that in high school. Got straight A’s and acted like she was too good for everyone. But on the weekends, she would party—not many people know this. She would chug vodka straight from the bottle.”
I couldn’t deny any of that, either. It’s true. It all happened. But it wasn’t a pattern of behavior. I chugged vodka from a bottle once. A lot of it. I had no idea how strong it was. Live and learn. Haven’t enjoyed vodka since.
But then add this salt to the wound:
“She was such a rule follower, so we were all shocked when she was caught drinking at school with a few other kids.”
Yes, that happened, too. But again, it wasn’t a pattern of behavior. It was just the chaos of being 17, having been taught no emotional coping mechanisms, and being a perfectionist. I’ve since addressed all those issues.
“She’s the kind of person who pushes herself until she snaps.”
Oh no. Now I’m looking super guilty, huh? All it’d take would be for one person to come along and say, “She always had a jealous streak, and I know she hated all the nights Jack was away at work,” and then suddenly we have a whole story about motive coming together.
Yet again, yes, those things are true about me. I can get a bit jealous. It’s just an instinct. But after a decade with my husband, he’s earned my trust and it’s not an issue. Do I hate his work schedule? Yes, but only because I want to spend more time with him. These are tensions within me, and we all exist with variations of these. They don’t have to be a motive for murder.
And then the show would drop the clincher: an interview with my parents. Hey! They’ll obviously be on my side, right? They’ll defend their daughter’s reputation!
You haven’t met my parents.
When Jack went to ask for their blessing to propose to me, they sat him down for an hour and a half, warning him that I was stubborn and would always get my way. Oh, and they were worried about my drinking problem.
With allies like these…
I feel the need to speak on my behalf at this point. I don’t have a drinking problem. I’ve made a few poor decisions with alcohol in my 3+ decades on this earth, but I’ve never been dependent on it—emotionally or chemically—and I haven’t had time to drink in excess since I graduated college over a decade ago into one of the bleakest job markets in modern history. I’ve had to scrounge and hustle for my money. The only job I’ve had with benefits was a teaching job where I made $37k working 70 hours a week. There’s not time to drink if you’re a Millennial and your parents don’t pay your bills. So, I get hangovers after two bourbons now. I couldn’t keep up a tolerance if I wanted to.
And all of that is to say, it wouldn’t matter what the reality is.
A few data points from my teens and early twenties and a few ugly interviews from people who want to contribute to the drama of it all would be enough for everyone watching to fall into the misogynistic trap of believing I was just another evil woman who snapped and killed a good, honest man. Never mind that such a thing is extremely rare; the rarity of it makes it prime fodder for true crime shows. And for those whose only connection to crime is through those shows, they end up with a skewed idea of the frequency of the anomalous content and begin to think the things that would be considered shocking and unusual in the complete data set of homicide are actually quite commonplace.
It’s an easy bias to fall into. If you watch/listen to/read as much true crime as I do, you end up with a wealth of data points. You start to believe those data points are themselves a random sampling of the broader pool of criminal data, and therefore representative of it. But that’s not the case. The smaller data set—the one we’re shown in our entertainment—has been handpicked precisely because it is such an oddity among the greater data. Our “normal” is actually derived from the abnormal.
And because of that, if my husband went missing, I would be under suspicion. He interacts with homicidal psychopaths on a regular basis in his line of work, is the one to put a stop to their preferred activities, but I would be the person wearing the scarlet letter G for guilty.
That’s how bias works, though. We think we’re getting a full picture when we’re not. If the full picture is even presented to us (which it rarely is), we ignore most of it and pick out the bits that confirm our worldview.
Never has this harmed us more, I think, than during a pandemic when our data set is limited not only by what stories the news covers (15 articles about one topic will always make it seem more threatening than 2 articles on another topic, regardless of the content of each), but through our social media silos.
We tend to be friends with people who share our views, and that in itself chops away plenty of data points. But then the algorithms come in and serve us more people we with similar views until our feeds consist of thousands of accounts that parrot our beliefs, and we start to think, “Wow, the whole world agrees with me!”
Then comes that dissenting voice. It slips through somehow. Bad news for them. Because now they appear to be such an anomaly among the data that they can be completely dismissed, eliminated if necessary.
As we build our cases against people, is it even possible to stop and reconsider? If you want me to be guilty of homicide, why would you ignore the interviews with so-called friends and family that imply I was a loose canon with a drinking problem, that everything nice I ever did, all my work toward making this world a better place, was merely a mask I wore to distract from the real me? And why would I or anyone else ignore that for you?
If it’s possible to pause in our condemnation and reconsider, to flip the script so that kindness was the true version of the person and those angry moments and errors in judgement were only the result of an underdeveloped brain, a lack of emotional vocabulary, and a build-up of societal expectations for perfection, then maybe I could make it out of a true crime doc cleanly.
But I have no reason to believe this happens on anything resembling a regular basis.
We’d rather watch the shows and pile on without critically thinking. We’d rather not question our own cultural biases that cause us to view some people as guiltier from the get-go.
I know we’re like this, because I’m like this, too. Unless I pause and reflect.
Unfortunately, I don’t do that nearly enough. Instead, I pretend the film crew or podcast host or writer has presented me with the full set of facts, that nothing crucial has been left on the cutting room floor for the sake of time constraints, and then, based on my own comforting biases, I string together a constellation of condemnation, declare my suspicions to whoever will listen… and then move on with my life.
That’s all fine and good, until it’s me in that documentary. Or until it’s you.
And then we’re fucked.
10 Best True Crime Shows to Look Inside the Mind of a Killer
Most true crime fans aren’t in it for the gore. They’re usually in it despite the gore. What’s the appeal, then? For me, it’s the psychology.
What makes someone feel justified in ending another person’s life? I’m not talking about in self-defense—we all understand that.
What justifications and beliefs go into a cold-blooded murder, particularly a premeditated one?
Not all true crime shows dig into this extensively or even at all. But if you like getting into the mind of a murderer, these 10 shows are must-sees for you.
I Am a Killer (Netflix)
This series is a crash course in killer psychology. With each episode interviewing a different convicted killer, you get a sampling of the various explanations and justifications for taking a life. The most interesting part? Figuring out who is being honest and who is bullshitting for the sake of leniency.
I also love this show because of the patterns and motifs that arise from this much data. Rough childhood, sexual abuse, bleak prospects for the future—after hearing the same story over and over again, you might even find yourself feeling unexpectedly sympathetic toward the inmates, and that’s no small feat for a show on this topic.
Dream/Killer (Netflix)
Think you understand the human brain? This documentary will stretch your understanding of it. A reporter is murdered, and the one who’s fingered for the crime thinks he had a dream about it happening, but that’s it. This one is a windy road of forced confessions, framing, and a dad who seeks justice for his boy. And the biggest win of it all: it includes everyone’s favorite wrongful conviction lawyer from Making a Murderer Season 2: Kathleen Zellner.
The Jinx (HBO)
What a wild ride this one is. With extensive interviews with the accused killer himself, you get a clear view into the mind of Robert Durst, loser son of a real estate mogul. Every so often, the universe treats us to a little bit of true crime that leaves our mouths hanging open, and The Jinx is one of those times. The investigation is a mess, the criminals are often too stupid to live, and the fact that anyone got away with anything is hardly more than a stroke of unbelievable luck. I won’t say more about this one other than it caused my husband and me to holler, gasp, and run confused circles around our living room while we watched. Don’t miss the last episode.
The Confessions Killer (Netflix)
Not only does this one give you insight into the psychology of a killer, it exposes how the desperation of well-meaning law enforcement to get justice for their victims can lead to a grade-A clusterfuck. Henry Lee Lucas, the accused serial killer, does plenty of talking in this one. He talks and talks and talks, admitting to hundreds of murders and playing on the hopes and confirmation bias of the detectives, sheriffs, and rangers who come to him looking for answers. Why would someone admit to hundreds of murders? You’ll have to watch this show and figure it out.
The Bundy Tapes (Netflix)
Ted Bundy is the go-to serial killer in the American public’s consciousness. Those uninitiated to true crime will give you his name first when you ask them to name a serial killer. They might not know anyone else, but they know Bundy. This series goes even deeper into his life, including facts about the case I’d never heard before. Listening to Bundy’s thoughts in his own words is truly chilling. Boy, is he a complete liar and sociopath. There are plenty of things we’ll never know about this man, but reading between the lines in this documentary might be as close as we’ll get…
Crazy, Not Insane (HBO)
…or will it? Among the cold-blooded killers Dr. Dorothy Otnow Lewis interviewed in her storied career, the most notorious was Ted Bundy himself. Bundy was viewed for a long time as an anomaly due to his claim that he came from a stable family and suffered no abuse as a child. This documentary presents the most elegant solution to that conundrum: Bundy was lying. Perhaps the most interesting hypothesis put forward by this documentary that follows Dr. Lewis’s many interviews with killers is that multiple personality disorder (MPD) is behind most of the brutal slaying we hear about in the news. Could a disorder many psychologists still don’t acknowledge as real be what’s behind the violence? Take a peek into a killer’s mind through Dr. Lewis’s eyes and judge for yourself.
Killer Inside: Mind of Aaron Hernandez (Netflix)
It’s not every day that a celebrity is arrested for a double murder. Thankfully. With serious OJ Simpson vibes running throughout, this documentary digs into the double life of Aaron Hernandez. It’s always interesting when the friends and family are split between, “He was the nicest guy ever,” and “I can see him doing this.” Either way, you get to watch a young man’s ascent in into the spotlight… while harboring a secret that was clearly eating him up. Ultimately a tragedy, this series will leave you with plenty to think about.
Into the Abyss (Netflix)
It’s always a treat when the legendary documentary filmmaker Werner Herzog decides to tackle a complicated subject. Focusing on a triple homicide in my home state of Texas—notorious for a liberal and proud use of the death penalty—Herzog interviews the two boys (now men) convicted of the slayings, as well as the families of the victims. Are we getting the truth from the killers? Will state-sanctioned murder bring those hurting the peace they seek? What really sets this documentary apart is the outsider view Herzog, a German, brings to a subject as complicated and American as capital punishment. No oversimplification to this one, folks. Get ready for messy emotions.
Nail Bomber: Manhunt (Netflix)
This show follows a different kind of killer, a more impersonal one, and because of that, it creates an interesting contrast to the others on this list. The nail bomber’s is a variety of hate that Americans like me are much more familiar with: white supremacy justifying death on a large scale. No intimate violence when you’re dealing with a bomber, which means the psychology behind it is completely different. The motivation differs. But there are some fascinating similarities in attitude between the nail bomber and many of the serial killers you’ve read all about. And you get to hear all about it through the bombers own letters.
Sophie: A Murder in West Cork (Netflix)
As far as true crime can be humorous, this one is. At least I thought so. When you first see the person who (it’s later revealed) is the alleged murderer, he’s not presented as such, and yet, I found myself saying, “That guy looks like a fucking serial killer.” The murder is almost secondary to the real story here of how someone who so clearly murdered a woman got away with it. You’ll hear plenty from the killer himself… only you won’t know it’s him until later on. If you’ve been studying your killer psychology, you should have no problem fingering the perp before the evidence is all laid out.
Is there one that I missed that should have been on the list? Drop me a comment to let me know.