I’m sure I’m not alone when I say this, but my early interest with the law stemmed from my fascination with true crime. Two questions recurred in my mind: What drives someone to do terrible things? And do we actually have the full story? 

That’s what brought me to Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story, the latest Netflix true crime series featuring a star-studded cast: Javier Bardem, Chloë Sevigny, Ari Graynor, Nathan Lane and directed by American Horror Story and American Crime Story creator Ryan Murphy. For those who don’t know, the Menendez brothers were convicted of murdering their parents back in the 90s. It’s a made-for-true-crime story.

But the Menendez brothers’ series piqued my interest for other reasons too. For one, I attended the same high school as they did, so it was curious to me what led us down such starkly different paths from the same dimly-lit halls. But most of all, it was the slew of negative buzz– largely from the Menendez brothers themselves–about the telling of their story. Once again, I’m reminded of those questions: What drives someone to do something like this, and do we actually have the full story? 

I was left discomforted by the series — it felt as though the important themes of parental abuse and childhood trauma, motives given for the crime, were masked by the dramatic allure of a possible incestous relationship between the brothers. After finishing the series, I was left with more questions, particularly about Murphy’s motivations. 

In a statement responding to the series as it was released, Erik Menendez said: “Is the truth not enough? Let the truth stand as the truth.” This statement resounds. It is not new that the media sensationalizes crime to make it dramatic and entertaining for large audiences. But at what cost? Media often plays a major role in shaping how we perceive crime in two extreme ways—by inciting panic or desensitizing violence. There is also the question of consent in true crime production. What place, if at all, do victims’ rights have in the writers’ rooms? 

Ryan Murphy claims that he’s used to being “controversial.” He is now shying away from the series’ more contentious insinuations. In his words, Murphy depicted these “perspectives” because “there are people who say they did” those things.   

Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story has brought the issues with popular true crime to the forefront. It calls into question the true motivations of true crime–bringing awareness or feeding morbid curiosities. But what happens after the last episode airs?

This is not to say all true crime podcasts and programs are alike. Many are ethically produced and have good intentions. But much as these stories can intrigue us or even inspire us to fight injustice, the public tends to forget that these are real stories affecting real people. Murphy chose to give voice to unsubstantiated allegations rather than finding the truth. Instead of listening to brothers’ pushback, he doubled-down, arguing that he had given them sufficient space, about “60-65% of [his] show,” to share their story. But the business of true crime shouldn’t come before the story itself. Vox puts it best: “Monsters could have been a nuanced look at abuse. Instead, it’s sleazy tabloid drama.” At the end of the day, true crime should still be true.

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Sangeeta Kishore is a second-year student at BC Law and president of the Impact blog. Contact her at kishorsa@bc.edu.