OPINION

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By Maia Zasler

One in three Americans say they consume true crime content at least once a week, and 50% of all Americans surveyed report they enjoy it. This nonfiction literary and film genre explores or shares the story of a real crime. As a reliable way to rake in positive ratings and views, there has been an uptick in true crime media content. The recent popularity of Dahmer – Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story, a Netflix mini-series starring Evan Peters, is part of that trend. Both consumers and producers of true crime content, however, have an imperative to reflect on whether highlighting the stories of killers for entertainment purposes is ethical. Although the propagation of true crime media has the potential to inform the public, re-evaluate mishandled or unjust criminal trials, and provide an opportunity to think critically, the genre often exploits the suffering of victims’ families, reaffirms pre-existing narratives, and prioritizes ratings over accuracy and humanity. 

Victims’ families do not have to consent to feature in true crime content. If they happen to appear in public footage, they have no real control over its use. This, in addition to perpetual re-adaptations and dramatizations of the same crime story (i.e., Jeffery Dahmer) can prolong victims’ grief. Since 1993, when the first film about Dahmer debuted, The Secret Life: Jeffrey Dahmer, several others have followed: 2002’s Dahmer, 2006’s Raising Jeffrey Dahmer, 2012’s The Jeffrey Dahmer Files, and 2017’s My Friend Dahmer (based on a graphic novel of the same name). That list does not include the additional, countless features on true crime docu-series that cover Dahmer and his crimes, like Dahmer: Mystery of a Serial Killer (1993), Dahmer on Dahmer: A Serial Killer Speaks (2017), and Jeffrey Dahmer: Mind of a Monster (2020). All tell the disturbing and gruesome story of the Milwaukee serial killer who murdered 17 men and boys between 1978 and 1991. 

Rodney Burford as Tony Hughes (left) and Evan Peters as Jeffery Dahmer (right) in Dahmer – Monster: The Jeffery Dahmer Story. Photo credit: Netflix.

People want to try to understand how someone could commit such inhumane atrocities. However, by constantly consuming the media in a commercial manner, we fail to acknowledge the real people in the stories. Following the release of the 2022 Netflix series Dahmer, Shirley Hughes, mother of Tony Hughes, an aspiring model who was murdered by Dahmer in 1991, told The Guardian, “I don’t see how they can use our names and put stuff out like that out there.” She is now 85 years old and still grieving the loss of her son. Along with many other critics, she condemned the series’ producers’ decision to not consult the families of the slain.

True crime entertainment is inherently subjective. Regardless of producers aiming to provide an accurate and in-depth exploration of a case, or solely taking on a project for its entertainment value, there remains the possibility of omitting integral information. Those behind the scenes choose which facts to present and the manner in which they will relate to an overarching story. Shaped by preconceived notions of the crime or the motives of the criminal, creators can unconsciously (or consciously) produce an inaccurate or incomplete final narrative. In addition, the desire to garner more views and positive reviews can lead to the dramatization of that same narrative. For example, the Dahmer Netflix series was released before Halloween, on September 21, and was initially labeled as an L.G.B.T.Q. film by Netflix. 

Scott Gunkel, 62, used to work as a bartender at Club 219 in Milwaukee, which Dahmer frequented in the 1980s. In a New York Times article, he revealed that he could not watch past the first two episodes of the series: “The first ones really didn’t have any context of the victims, I was taken aback.” He later added that the portrayal of the racial mix in the bar scenes in the series was inaccurate; club-goers were primarily white, not Black. 

Grayson Hepp (‘23) shared that “I actually haven’t watched the Dahmer Netflix series purely because I see the entirety of true crime as unethical. I obviously see the interest in learning about true crime, but the idea of exploiting the story of someone who has lost their life at the hands of someone else for financial gain feels very greedy and selfish.” He went on to say that “it is important to spread awareness for the victims, but there are countless ethical ways to do it that don’t involve dramatizing, or even sometimes romanticizing, the stories of the victims.” 

The fascination with morbid and traumatic stories does not stop with Dahmer. A plethora of podcasts, films, and books have covered infamous killers such as Ted Bundy, Wayne Gacy, Ronald Dominique, Aileen Wuornos, and more. In August 2021, Gabby Petito, age 22, was sharing her road trip with her partner Brian Laundrie on social media when she suddenly went missing. Her story was widely covered in the news until authorities found her remains. Laundrie admitted guilt in a notebook found next to his body in a Florida swamp after he took his own life. Now, just a year later, Petito’s story is being developed into a movie by Lifetime that will do little to help her or her family process her death. It also won’t reform the system that allowed the crimes against her to occur in the first place.

After watching the Dahmer Netflix series, I feel like it did not achieve its ostensive goal of highlighting Dahmer’s victims and the fact that they were primarily Black and gay. The show is incredibly graphic, and the gore detracts from the stories of the victims. It puts Dahmer back in the center, making the profit from entertainment supersede the ethics of raising awareness as to how crimes are perpetuated and solved.

Featured image courtesy of Netflix.