True crime is an incredibly popular genre of content spanning across all platforms and mediums — podcasts, documentaries, short-form content and even books. According to a YouGov poll, 57% of Americans consume true crime content and many believe it has advantages. 63% of people say it “makes people more vigilant and safety-conscious,” 51% say it increases empathy for victims and 50% say it helps solve cases.
However, social media has radically altered the way we consume true crime, allowing people to do more than just watch from a distance. We can now comment, share and contribute to conversations, which also creates ethical concerns. When there's an opportunity to get involved in something, sensitivity and empathy are replaced by speculation and exploitation.
A glaring example is the trial of 36-year-old Lindsay Clancy in Massachusetts, accused of murdering her three children, Cora Clancy, Dawson Clancy and Callan Clancy, in January 2023. AP News notes Lindsay Clancy “hasn’t disputed killing them but has pleaded not guilty to murder by reason of lack of criminal responsibility.” The children have quickly become secondary characters during the media frenzy of this trial when their lives and identities deserve respectful attention.
Although the prosecution claims Lindsay Clancy knows killing her children was wrong and she acted intentionally, the defense claims she was experiencing severe psychiatric symptoms, as Lindsay Clancy was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and postpartum psychosis.
The case has been picked apart, deliberated and debated by TikTok “sleuths and armchair psychiatrists” who believe Lindsay Clancy’s ex-husband, Patrick Clancy, killed the three children and is framing her. Everybody is convinced they are true crime sleuths, cracking jokes about being detectives and becoming obsessed with details, witnesses and discrepancies.
At its core, this is a case in which three children are dead. The issue here is not taking a side, but highlighting how spreading misinformation and wild theories is inappropriate. This even sidelines meaningful discussions about postpartum psychosis. Criminal trials should not spawn online fandoms that treat real human suffering as a joke.
The trial is still ongoing and has not reached a final verdict, meaning social media is buzzing with “hot takes” and conspiracy theories. A study by the National Institutes of Health titled “Conspiracy theories in digital environments: Moving the research field forward,” says it is no surprise social media algorithms push conspiracy theories, and they are especially “popular amongst attention-seeking content creators.”
Kathryn Coduto, assistant professor of media science at Boston University, said “the Clancy trial allows them to participate in a dialogue as the case unfolds, fostering a sense of purpose and community.” This urge to participate can cross into unsettling territory.
Recently, a woman on TikTok who calls herself a “forensic files enthusiast” created a shoebox diorama of Lindsay Clancy’s bedroom, complete with fake blood and a Bratz doll as Lindsay herself. This woman claims she has found details professionals ignored or omitted in documents, which solidifies Patrick as the killer.
Some have even gone as far as emailing Lindsay Clancy’s attorney, claiming they cracked the case. One man made a TikTok video. He said, “To the women who got broken up with because she supports Lindsay Clancy. My DMs are open,” as if he is using the trial as a dating pool.
There are three real victims. Whatever plot twist people are looking for has come at the cost of three lives and a grueling trial process for all involved. It’s not a game of whodunit or something to joke about. Families are also often harmed by true crime media. In a study by Kelli Boling, a scholar from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, about the effects of true crime media on family and friends, she found co-victims experience a lack of privacy, “uncomfortable interactions with true crime consumers” and a lack of control.
It is true that social media sleuths have helped contribute evidence in crime cases and led to them being solved, but not in the way of interactive crime scene dioramas. Some cases have been solved by social media sleuths stabilizing video footage or identifying car parts, not recreating the crime scene from scratch and insisting they found what professionals missed.
Since the Lindsay Clancy trial has garnered its own sort of fandom, experts say viral conspiracy theories created by this fandom “threaten to undermine efforts to destigmatize and raise awareness of postpartum illnesses.”
Wendy N. Davis, president and CEO of Postpartum Support International, said during an interview with NBC10 Boston that this trial “is both raising awareness and increasing misperceptions about perinatal mental health disorders.”
Social media gives everybody a platform and elevates inflammatory content. The goal on social media is engagement, not spreading truthful content, which allows “outrageous, blatantly false stories to circulate.” When the biggest obstacles to overcome for intervention for postpartum disorders are stigma, fear and shame, misinformation and judgemental conversations do not help.
The conversations, content and speculation surrounding Clancy’s case serve as a warning sign for the future of true crime media and the routes people will go to be involved. The desire for engagement is overriding boundaries, causing people to treat a real trial like an interactive game.
Abby Shriver is a sophomore studying journalism at Ohio University. Please note the opinions expressed in this column do not represent those of The Post. Want to talk to Abby about their column? Email/message them at as064024@ohio.edu / @abbyshriver_
