Why We Can’t Look Away: The Science Behind Our True Crime Obsession

Jun 27, 2025, 22:00

It starts with a headline: “Mother of Two Found Dead in Suburban Basement.”

You feel a chill run down your spine, and before you know it, you’re four episodes deep into another true crime docuseries — captivated, disturbed, and somehow… comforted?

But why? Why do we willingly dive into darkness? Why are we so drawn to stories of tragedy, violence, and fear?

It turns out, the answer lies not in our flaws, but in our design.

A Brain Wired for Survival

From an evolutionary standpoint, the human brain has always been tuned to danger. In prehistoric times, staying alive meant being acutely aware of threats in the environment — the rustle of a predator in the bushes, the shadow at the cave entrance, the unfamiliar sound in the distance.

Today, our predators wear suits or hoodies, live in apartments or work in banks. But our brains don’t know that. They’re still tuned to danger, and true crime stories offer a risk-free simulation of threat. When we watch them, our amygdala, the brain’s threat detection center, lights up. We feel alert, focused, ready — but from the safety of our couch.

It’s the brain saying, “Pay attention — this is what danger looks like. Remember it.”

Fear, But in Control

One of the strangest paradoxes of fear is that when it’s controlled — when it’s “ours to watch” — it can actually feel good.

In true crime, we experience horrific events at a psychological distance. Unlike real trauma, we’re not the victim. We’re the observer. The horror doesn’t happen to us, but it passes through us, giving us a sense of safety while still feeding that old instinct to stay vigilant.

In fact, psychologists suggest that true crime creates an illusion of mastery. By understanding the minds of killers, the steps that led to violence, or the clues detectives followed, we start to believe we can prevent such things from happening to us.

It’s like fear training — from behind a screen.

The Empathy Circuit

But it’s not all about survival. Part of the pull comes from something softer: empathy.

True crime stories don’t just feature killers. They center victims — often women, the vulnerable, the misunderstood. We’re not only fascinated by the how, but by the who: Who was she? What did she leave behind? Who’s mourning?

This activates our empathy circuits, particularly the anterior insula and anterior cingulate cortex, parts of the brain that light up when we imagine someone else’s pain. In a strange way, watching these stories is also about bearing witness — a need to see and honor the pain that others suffered.

For some viewers, especially women, there’s also an unspoken solidarity: “That could have been me.” Watching becomes a form of emotional rehearsal for danger, but also a space for communal grief, anger, or even advocacy.

Order in Chaos

Finally, there’s something undeniably satisfying about seeing disorder brought to justice — or at least examined.

The world can feel chaotic. But in many true crime stories, we get the full arc: the crime, the investigation, the trial. Even when there’s no resolution, there’s an attempt to make sense of the senseless. And our brains love that.

Humans are narrative creatures. We need cause and effect, even if it’s grim. We need closure — or at least the attempt at it. And in true crime, that search for meaning is built in.

So What Does That Say About Us?

Some critics say watching true crime is voyeuristic or unhealthy. And yes, there’s a line between curiosity and obsession. But to be curious about evil, danger, and loss — that’s not strange. That’s human.

When we’re drawn to true crime, we’re not rooting for horror. We’re trying to understand it. We’re asking the same questions over and over:

“Why did this happen?”

“How could someone do that?”

“Could I survive something like that?”

And maybe, just maybe, we’re asking:

“What would I do if the darkness came for me?”