A Good Mystery

Like much of America, I have been completely won over by Only Murders in the Building. But, despite always loving a good mystery with a dash of true crime, it does make me wonder: what is the line between consuming true crime and it becoming a toxic fandom?

I’ve been a true crime enthusiast since I was 10. Remarkably young. My dad and I would get a baguette, some olive oil and vinegar, and then we’d just put on a Jack the Ripper movie, dip, repeat. We’re very Italian. I think I loved true crime because I thought, if I could just figure out why the killer did it, I could avoid a similar fate. Many women, I think, like true crime for that very reason: we’re looking for a way to AVOID murderers.

When #murderinos became common fare, I was happy to be welcomed but also a little worried. Where is the line between this healthy fascination in order to keep control over our lives, and an obsession that has us publicly speculating on missing people online? The last thing I want is for my beloved #truecrimecommunity to turn into the Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons.

What Only Murders does so well is strike that balance between a fantastic mystery and a commentary on when that fascination takes us a bit too far. Also, classic style mysteries (lighter than a thriller, darker than a cozy) are coming back y’all. I’m calling it.

Until next time!