True crime content gets a bad rap.

Sensationalising murder.

Romanticising the art of scamming.

But is it harmful, or actually a net positive?

The modern era of true crime is often attributed to Truman Capote's 1965 novel, In Cold Blood. Today, one doesn't have to look far to find the next homicide strung up and dissected for our twisted little minds to indulge in - whatever the medium may be.

Streaming platforms are flooded with the genre. From Darmer to Bundy and everything in between, there's something for every kind of fanatic.

The brothers were once seen as heartless monsters who murdered their parents. But the Netflix documentary shines a new light on the men, shifting public perception and taking them from pariahs to sympathetic figures.

The Menendez Brothers flips the script, asking us to reconsider, question, and empathise. This speaks to the evolution of the true crime genre, now a far cry from the 'if it bleeds, it leads' era.

Now, it's not just about the crime. It's about the why-the motives, the personal backstories, and, most importantly, the systemic flaws lurking beneath the surface.

When I was a kid, true crime was all about the most lurid, sensational details the networks could unearth.

My mother, like the many other women that make up the majority of the true crime audience, was infatuated. She would eagerly wait to put on whatever the latest 60-minute special was, generally right after dinner.

Back then, audiences wanted grisly. They wanted graphic. And who could blame them? It was reality TV before reality TV. It was also a different time in which we weren't spoiled for choice when it came to gory details.

We want to feel like active participants rather than mere observers.

It feels like we've consumed all the gruesome and brutal stories out there, and now, we're ready to unpack them all. Instead of senselessly watching horrifying content, we watch it with intention, through a critical lens that questions the very systems we rely on.

Why? Because we have every reason to.

Police brutality, DNA-led exonerations, systemic prejudice, disproportionate incarceration - the failures of law enforcement, prosecutors and courts have eroded our confidence in the proficiency of the justice system.

Today's stories actually consider what might drive someone to commit a crime. And they give us more context and nuance than sometimes the trials themselves.

And it's not just the Menendez case. Think about Netflix's Making a Murderer or HBO's The Jinx. We're now more likely to see true crime projects dig into the flawed systems, the social factors, the injustices, and yes, the real people involved.

This goes beyond a true crime trend. It's a total culture shift.

Today's audiences, especially younger ones, have an increasingly critical view of 'the system.' And it's not just because they've been watching Law & Order: SVU.

With each new show that recasts old cases with a nuanced lens, true crime storytelling is helping expose judicial and institutional failures.

Where once we might've eaten up a shocking verdict, now we're left questioning the whole process. And viewers, savvy to every red flag in our institutions, are more than ready to start the debate.

True crime, in other words, isn't just rehashing what's already happened.

Such is the case with the Menendez brothers.

There are hundreds of accounts across TikTok and Instagram run by people who weren't even alive when the case was happening in real time.

These creators are heavily invested in the outcome of the trials, often advocating for the brothers' release - especially as new evidence appears to support their claims of abuse.

Just think about the Central Park Five or the West Memphis Three.

When it comes to more modern cases, like that of Gypsy Rose Blanchard, the internet is able to examine a case from multiple angles.

It's because of this that true crime has become the perfect genre for digital sleuthing. Today's viewers are no longer passive-they're digging into evidence, questioning motives, and putting out theories on every corner of the internet.

Gone are the days when we took the prosecutor's word for it; now, if the backstory's missing, the internet will go find it.

This social element is huge. It turns true crime into a conversation, where audiences come together to question, speculate, and-even if we're too polite to say it-play prosecutor, judge, and jury.

And the effects are as real as the crimes themselves.