Why Women Keep Showing Up For Murderers

Last week, Americans were shocked to hear the confessions of several jurors who heard the Lindsay Clancy case in Massachusetts. In their recent sit-down with NBC News , female jurors expressed deep concern for Clancy and disdain for the prosecution. In a strong Boston accent, one juror complained that the prosecution "was harsh" on Lindsay and lacked heart. "From statement one, there is no compassion in this courtroom," she said. The jurors also questioned whether the prosecution had presented evidence that Clancy was a bad mother. "Obviously something happened to this woman that should not have happened," another said. If those statements send you spiraling, just wait. There's more. And Then There Was One Perhaps the most astonishing revelation came when one juror explained the panel's frustration with the lone holdout who refused to budge on Clancy's guilt. "He had the hardest time getting off the fact that Lindsay viciously killed her children." Curiously, the reporter did not ask the obvious follow-up: Why was it not hard for her to get over that fact? In the end, the jurors said their biggest takeaway from the case was that they hoped it would bring greater awareness to postpartum depression and psychosis. They said they were saddened that they "couldn't come through for Lindsay." Watching the interviews, it's hard to miss the affection these women have for Clancy. Their descriptions suggest that they see her less as a killer than as one of them: a woman who was suffering, who was failed by the medical system, and whose horrific actions can be understood through the lens of her illness. I wish I could tell you that this extraordinary sympathy for a woman who killed her three children is an isolated phenomenon. But it isn't. Americans have always had a penchant for fawning over murderers. Throughout our history, we have excused, romanticized, and even idolized killers. This isn't new. Long before Lindsay Clancy became the object of public sympathy, America had already perfected the art of turning killers into something else: victims, celebrities, folk heroes, and tragic figures. Consider a few of our most notorious examples. Bonnie and Clyde Long before Beyoncé and Jay-Z paid homage to this duo in their 2002 song '03 Bonnie & Clyde , Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were lovers, fugitives, robbers, and, most notably, murderers. During the Great Depression, the two linked up and, along with others, became known as the "Barrow Gang." The crew traveled from town to town, robbing banks and terrorizing communities. They became known for leading the U.S. government on one of the longest manhunts in American history. Together, they became folk heroes and early 20th-century celebrities. Their rise came during the Great Depression, when poverty-stricken Americans looked to the couple as modern-day Robin Hoods. The public aligned around a common enemy: banks and the government. The gang's exploits became a fascinating real-time game for Americans to follow. But it all came crashing down on May 23, 1934, in a small town in Louisiana, when a six-man police posse opened fire on the lovers hiding in their car. More than 150 bullets were fired at the duo, killing them instantly. When the public found out, there was an outcry, with fans storming the car to take mementos, including bloody pieces of clothing and locks of their hair. Their funerals were heavily attended events, with tens of thousands of people showing up to pay their respects. Lizzie Borden Now immortalized in a famous nursery rhyme that starts, "Lizzie Borden took an axe" and ends with both of her parents dead, Lizzie Borden was indeed a real person. Although she was acquitted of murdering her father and stepmother, the killer was never found, and Borden remained the prime suspect. Historians credit Borden's female fans with helping keep her from ever being convicted. Early suffragists and feminist groups packed the courthouse in her support. Religious women's groups also showed up en masse. At the time, it was unfathomable that a Victorian lady could have committed crimes that were so heinous. Many in the area firmly believed that Borden, due to her upbringing, could never have engaged in the violence of hacking her parents to pieces. This ideology permeated the case. The women's groups argued that Borden's trial was inherently unfair because she was being judged by an all-male jury and victimized by an all-male system. Their concern for her was so great that they flooded newspapers with opinion pieces supporting her. The Menendez Brothers What was once a real-life familicide is now a glossy Ryan Murphy docudrama, Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story . But before the brothers' crime story went viral in recent years, they were just two affluent boys from Beverly Hills. They ostensibly had everything two guys could ever want, except, according to them, caring parents. In the mid-1990s, the brothers were found guilty of using 12-gauge shotguns to gun down their parents in their home. Despite the gruesome nature of their acts, their female fans still turned out in droves. During their early years in prison, the brothers received thousands of letters from female fans. This eventually led both brothers to marry their pen pals. The public was sympathetic to the brothers' sexual assault claims against their father—so much so that their first trial resulted in a hung jury, with jurors heavily weighing the abuse defense. Today, the brothers' case has resurfaced on TikTok, to much fascination, with modern fans calling themselves the " Menendez Guardians ." O.J. Simpson One of the most infamous cases in all American history, the O.J. Simpson double-murder case, is credited with ushering in the 24/7 news cycle and the success of cable news. Americans couldn't get enough of watching the televised in-court details and testimony of the brutal slayings of Simpson's ex-wife, Nicole Brown Simpson, and friend, Ron Goldman. Much like today's Clancy trial, Americans were deeply divided. In this case, much of the division fell along racial lines. FX's The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story expertly shows the powder keg environment in early-'90s Los Angeles that gave way to the sympathetic treatment of Simpson. Despite being criticized for purposefully distancing himself from the Black community, Simpson, during the trial, was portrayed as racially oppressed by the police. And in the wake of the Rodney King police beatings , this resonated with Angelenos. Simpson's defense knew this, which led them to gin up sympathy by redecorating Simpson's upscale Brentwood home to make him appear more connected to his cultural African-American roots. The effect worked as the jury found Simpson not guilty of both brutal slayings. But it is also important to point out that the prosecution had significant missteps; anyone remember, "If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit." Upon hearing the final verdict, reactions of sorrow and joy broke out across the country. As the trial ended, one juror (a former Black Panther) raised his fist in the air, seen as a salute of solidarity with Simpson. It would be two years later, in civil court, that Simpson was found liable for their wrongful deaths. National Self-Reflection Needed The years pass, and the names and circumstances change, but the impulse remains the same. We become so invested in people's stories that we lose sight of their crime altogether. We turn killers into victims, rebels, celebrities, and occasionally, even heroes. There's a name for at least part of this. In 1970, psychologist Kelly Shaver ran a series of experiments showing that the more we see ourselves in the person who caused the harm, the less responsible we decide they are. Blame, it turns out, is something we hand out to people who aren't like us. That is the Clancy jury in a sentence. It's also the suffragists who couldn't picture a Victorian lady with a hatchet, and the pen pals who were certain they alone could see the real boy under the monster. A 2010 study out of the University of Illinois found that women choose to consume content about true crime over other violent genres at higher rates than men do, and that we specifically want the stories about women like us. We tell ourselves we're studying the danger, but what we're actually doing is climbing into the defendant's chair to see how it fits, and from that seat, everybody looks forgivable.