I used to feel guilty about watching true crime stories on TV or listening to true crime podcasts. I think it came down to the idea I was receiving recreational entertainment from the suffering of others.
Then I had an epiphany that upended my views on the topic, and it’s this:
In society we honor the bravery of our survivors, but we do very little to honor the suffering of those who perished.
By the time we read the salacious headlines or hear the horrific details of a mass shooting, child abduction, or [violent, sadistic, evil; all redundant terms] murder, someone has already endured an agonizing death. Alone and Afraid.
I know it sounds weird but I honestly think it honors the victims’ memories when other people listen to how they suffered and feel an infinitesimal amount of their pain.
It’s the closest thing we can do now to holding their hands as they died then. It’s not a religious thing, it’s a “compassion for the victims and their families” thing.
So I never feel guilty for watching true crime shows: it helps me do my humanitarian duty to the souls who were forced to depart early.
#RIP, Heaven’s Favorites.