The Monetization of Death: An Ongoing Investigation

My investigation into what is often referred to as the “death fetish” subculture did not begin as a theory, a research interest, or an abstract concern about media ethics. It began in the course of my work on a single case.

While actively working on the unsolved murder of Melissa Witt, I received a lead that, at the time, seemed unusual—something that did not fit within the typical framework of suspects, timelines, or physical evidence. It pointed instead toward the possibility that there were individuals who engaged with violent crime in a way that went beyond curiosity or awareness. The suggestion was not simply that people followed cases closely, but that there existed a deeper, more disturbing level of interest in the details of violence itself.

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That lead stayed with me.

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As I continued my work on Melissa’s case—reviewing materials, speaking with sources, and immersing myself in both the history and ongoing discussion surrounding her murder—I began to notice patterns that echoed what that lead had suggested. Certain details were not just being shared; they were being emphasized, repeated, and in some cases, fixated upon. Conversations would drift away from justice, from the life of the victim, and toward the specifics of harm.

At first, these observations could have been dismissed as isolated behavior. But they were not isolated.

Over time, and across multiple cases, similar patterns began to emerge. Content that centered the most graphic or disturbing elements of a crime consistently generated higher engagement. Discussions in certain spaces revealed a level of interest that did not align with advocacy or awareness. Instead, the focus appeared to shift toward the violence itself—how it occurred, what it looked like, and how it could be described, revisited, and shared.

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What began as a single lead evolved into a broader investigation.

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Through years of work in advocacy, documentary development, and digital analysis, I began to document what can only be described as the commercialization and consumption of death within online environments. These are not always obvious or openly labeled spaces. They often exist within larger platforms, embedded in content that appears, on the surface, to be informative or case-driven. But beneath that surface, patterns emerge—patterns that reveal how death and violence can become central to audience engagement.

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One of the most stark and undeniable real-world examples of this dynamic is the case of serial killer Brian Steven Smith.

In 2019, Smith was arrested in Alaska after a woman escaped from him and alerted authorities. Investigators later discovered recorded footage in which Smith documented his own crimes, narrating acts of violence in a way that revealed a deeply disturbing level of engagement. The recordings were not incidental—they were intentional. They reflected not only the commission of violence, but a desire to capture it, revisit it, and preserve it.

That case forced a confrontation with a difficult reality: there are individuals for whom violence is not just an act, but an experience they seek to relive.

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When material connected to cases like this enters the public sphere—whether through media coverage, online discussion, or secondary sharing—it does not reach a neutral audience. It reaches a wide range of individuals, including those whose interest extends beyond justice and into fixation.

This is where the concept of a death-based fetish becomes relevant.

It is not a term that applies broadly, and it should not be used carelessly. But within the context of this investigation, it describes a pattern of engagement in which death and violence become the primary focus of interest, detached from the humanity of the victim and the pursuit of accountability. In these instances, the story is no longer about what happened—it is about how it can be consumed.

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Through my work, I have examined how this dynamic is reinforced within digital systems.

This includes analyzing how content is structured—how titles, imagery, and narrative framing emphasize specific elements of a crime—and how those choices influence audience behavior. It includes tracking how repetition amplifies certain details until they become the defining feature of a case. It also includes observing how communities form around this type of content, creating spaces where the boundaries between awareness and exploitation are blurred or, in some cases, entirely absent.

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The implications of this are significant.

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Families of victims are often forced to witness their loved ones reduced to moments of violence, their lives overshadowed by the circumstances of their deaths. Individuals connected to cases can be drawn into narratives without consent or context. And the broader public is exposed to a steady stream of content that, over time, can normalize a level of detail and repetition that would otherwise be considered inappropriate.

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This is not an abstract concern. It is a documented pattern that continues to evolve.

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As this investigation developed, I expanded this work into formal academic research. My published papers explore the intersection of digital media, narrative construction, and harm, with a focus on how exploitative patterns emerge and are sustained within online environments. These papers address the role of audience reinforcement, the absence of consistent ethical standards, and the need for clearer boundaries in how stories involving violence and death are presented.

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This work is ongoing.

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It continues to be informed by real-time observation, case-based analysis, and a commitment to documenting what is often overlooked because it exists in uncomfortable spaces. The goal is not to sensationalize what is already disturbing, but to bring clarity to it—to examine it carefully, to name it responsibly, and to contribute to a broader understanding of its impact.

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At the center of this work is a question that remains unresolved, but necessary:

When does engagement with crime cross the line from awareness into consumption?

Because the answer to that question does not just shape how stories are told.

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It shapes how they are experienced—by audiences, by communities, and most importantly, by the families still living with the loss.

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