Welcome to the inaugural episode of MJ On Crime. I am your host, MJ. So, let me ask: why are we so drawn to true crime? What is it really about these stories that hooks us, keeps us up at night replaying the details in our heads?I mean, on the surface, it’s the suspense, right? The whodunnit factor. People want answers—they crave that resolution. But some cases just don’t have them. Think about the Zodiac Killer. Decades later, and we still don’t know for sure who he was. That mystery—it’s unsettling and fascinating all at once.And then there are the cases that feel, I don't know, almost personal. Like JonBenét Ramsey. You remember that one—it was everywhere. A little girl was found dead in her own home, and the theories and speculation went wild. Family? Intruder? People couldn’t stop theorizing, as if solving it would somehow put the world back in order.I still remember the first case that hooked me. The Son of Sam, New York City, in the summer of '77. Random shootings, random victims. It made no sense. The city was in the grips of fear—the fear city. Young women were cutting and coloring their hair not to attract the killer's attention. Lovers' lanes were no-go zones. Everyone in New York was buzzing about it, throwing out wild ideas. It was the kinda case that made you look over your shoulder, run from the car to the house, and make you double-check your locks, you know?And what gets me, honestly, is how these crime stories tap into something deep. It’s not just about the crime itself. It’s about the people. Their lives. Their fears. Their truths. And these questions—When we look at these cases, it’s not just the 'what' or the 'how' that grabs us. It’s the 'why.' Like, what makes someone cross that line, you know? What takes an ordinary person, if they ever were an ordinary person, and turns them into someone capable of doing the unthinkable?Take Ted Bundy, for instance. To his neighbors, the guy was charming, clean-cut, the kind of person you’d never suspect. But behind closed doors? He was studying, manipulating, and preying on people who trusted him. And it was that understanding of his psyche that ultimately helped them connect the dots, close in on him.Then there’s Dennis Rader—the BTK Killer. The guy had a family, a job, a seemingly normal life. Meanwhile, he was terrorizing an entire community. But he didn’t get caught for years, because no one could reconcile the "dad from down the street" with the calculated predator he really was. It took understanding his patterns, his motives, to finally bring him down.I remember a case I worked on years back. This guy, on the surface, seemed like just another wrong-place-wrong-time suspect. Quiet, worked odd jobs, no record to speak of. But something about the way he avoided eye contact, the little inconsistencies in his story—it didn’t sit right. Turns out, he had this whole double life going on. Digging into his background blew the case wide open. It was the kind of thing where, I mean, you think you’ve seen it all, and then bam—something new hits you.And that’s the thing about looking into the criminal mind—there’s always a twist, always some layer you hadn’t anticipated. It keeps you asking questions, keeps you…Let’s talk about the media, the big engine behind this true crime craze. I mean, there’s no denying it’s a massive force. Podcasts, documentaries, streaming shows—they’ve exploded. And they’re addictive, right? You binge one episode of, say, Making a Murderer, and before you know it, you’re four hours deep, questioning a case you never even heard of before.But, here’s the thing—it’s not all good. I mean, there’s criticism, and rightly so. Sensationalism, for one. Some stories, they get jazzed up, you know? Dramatic reenactments, ominous music. They hook viewers, but man, at what cost? The families, the victims—sometimes they’re reliving the worst moments of their lives every time the story’s told. Imagine turning on the TV and seeing your loved one’s murder rehashed for the hundredth time, and it’s entertaining millions of people.I remember watching certain cases play out and just thinking, "This crosses the line." There was one, a documentary series that dug so deep into wild conspiracy theories that it almost forgot there were real people at the heart of it. Families watching, grieving. And me, I’ve been in situations where I had to choose my words carefully—carefully—because I knew if I didn’t, I might add to their pain. That responsibility weighs on you.And then it comes down to us—storytellers, reporters, even podcasters. We’ve gotta ask ourselves, are we giving people the facts? Are we being fair? Or are we feeding the obsession just for views and clicks? That’s a question I’ve carried with me my whole time researching and writing about true crime, honestly. Whether it was briefing the press on a big case during my career or writing an article about true crime stories, you want to reveal the truth, but you never forget there’s a human cost to these stories.I guess, at the end of the day, that’s the double-edged sword of it all, right? True crime connects us—it taps into our fears, our questions, our need for truth. But it also asks us to tread carefully, with respect for those whose lives were upended by the very stories we can’t seem to look away from. What is an interest or entertainment for some is life-altering pain for others.And on that note, that’s all for now. Thanks for listening, folks. Stay safe out there, and I’ll catch you next time.

Episodes

Hooked on True Crime