I was on the train the other day and couldn't help but overhear a discussion about a new TV show. It was a documentary, true crime, one I'd been meaning to catch up on as soon as a screen became available on the much coveted single device familial Netflix account.

“I had to turn it off after the first episode, it was boring,” said one passenger. “Aye,” replied the other, “kept thinking it would pick up but it just dragged on and on”.

That “boring” documentary involved the real-life brutal and senseless murder of a woman, and to hear it being discussed so casually and with such flippancy was more than a little jarring.

I can't seem to get this conversation out of my head, as in mere seconds it crystallised thoughts I've been having for a while now about the true crime genre, and the way it's changing our perception of brutality.

I really enjoy true crime, the combination of compelling narratives and documentary style storytelling often not only serves as a historical record of crimes and those who commit them, but it can also offer victims and survivors a public and sympathetic voice.

I do, however, wonder if we’re becoming desensitised, and sometimes forget that behind the sensationalisation and drama, there are very real people and families whose lives have been irreparably damaged, or ended.

Read more

An appeal on domestic abuse: put yourself in our shoes

I'm certainly not the only fan of the genre, crime (of both fictionalised and true varieties) regularly tops bestseller book charts, as well as “most watched” lists on streaming services. Scotland even has its own international crime writing festival, Bloody Scotland, where writers and their fans get together annually in Stirling to celebrate crime........

© Herald Scotland