When does the line between facts and exploitation in true crime go too far?
In recent years, true crime media has exploded. Platforms like Netflix churn out documentaries and dramas that captivate viewers with dark, often grisly tales from history. While some productions offer valuable insights into criminal justice, others blur the lines between storytelling and exploitation.
The latest example is Netflix’s “Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story,” revisiting the infamous 1989 murders of José and Kitty Menendez by their sons. This retelling has reignited debates not only about the brothers’ guilt but about the ethics of how we consume true crime.
The Menendez brothers are far from innocent, but the approach of true crime media distorts or sensationalizes their story. They downplay or deny their allegations of long-term abuse as motivation and instead emphasize the horrific nature of their crime —the killing of their wealthy parents.
Their lavish lifestyle and courtroom antics are frequently highlighted in the show, but the complicated nature of their family life and the pain they claim to have experienced are rarely discussed. This distorts the whole image for viewers by emphasizing their guilt while omitting the subtle reasons why they might have committed the crimes. Erik and Lyle Menendez are convicted murderers, but they are also human beings, and their treatment in the media, as well as in court, reveals uncomfortable truths about the balance between justice and spectacle.
In 1989, the Menendez brothers shot and killed their wealthy parents in their Beverly Hills mansion. Lyle Menendez was 21, while his younger brother Erik was only 18. At first, police suspected organized crime. But when Lyle and Erik later confessed, they claimed the murders were the result of years of abuse by their father, including sexual assault. The trial that followed was a media circus, with public opinion split between those who believed the brothers were victims of their upbringing and those who saw them as calculating killers driven by greed.
The prosecution’s narrative of the brothers as spoiled rich kids seeking to inherit millions overshadowed the defense’s claims of sexual abuse, which were largely dismissed during their retrial. As a result, both brothers were convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison without parole. For many, this case was closed nearly three decades ago.
Yet, Netflix’s new series attempts to reopen the case in the court of public opinion. The show portrays the brothers’ claims of abuse while also delving into the psychological complexity of their family dynamic. Erik Menendez has openly criticized the series, calling it misleading and full of “blatant lies,” accusing co-creator Ryan Murphy of distorting facts. Erik argues that the show resurrects outdated narratives, casting doubt on the sexual abuse allegations that he and his brother have long maintained.
The success of true crime dramas like “Monsters” raises important questions about the ethics of exploiting real people’s lives for entertainment. One of the most troubling aspects of the series is its apparent fascination with the “dark allure” of the Menendez brothers’ relationship, even hinting at incestuous undertones. This not only distorts the facts but shifts focus away from the real tragedies at the heart of the case: the deaths of José and Kitty, the abuse the brothers endured and the irrevocable damage done to everyone involved.
Ed Power of The Telegraph summarized it best, saying that shows like Monsters ultimately amount to little more than “competently put-together hokum made in the worst possible taste.” Underneath the gripping drama and meticulous production is a gross oversimplification of a complex case, reduced to “eyeball fodder” for viewers hungry for scandal.
In our post-#MeToo era, gendered assumptions about who can be a victim of sexual abuse are slowly being dismantled. Would the Menendez brothers’ allegations of abuse have been treated differently if the trial took place today? It’s possible, and that possibility makes Netflix’s treatment of the case even more problematic. By sensationalizing the details of their relationship and downplaying their claims of abuse, the show does a disservice not only to the brothers but also to the broader conversation around abuse and trauma.
Ultimately, it’s up to viewers to question whether these portrayals are fair or merely profitable. When true crime goes too far, it’s not just the people behind bars who are harmed; it’s the truth itself.
