The Glaring Issues No One Is Talking About In The Menendez Brothers Case

Not a day has gone by in the past several weeks that the words “Menendez brothers” haven’t appeared at the top of a social media timeline or in a news headline. It’s, well, almost like we’ve jumped into a time machine back to 1993, the year that Court TV broadcasted Lyle and Erik Menendez’s trial for the murders of their parents Kitty and José Menendez.

The brothers, who were convicted of first-degree murder in 1996 and sentenced to two consecutive life prison terms, were the subject of relentless judgment and chatter from the peanut gallery watching from home.

This time, though, the narrative around them is different. Amid recent true crime narratives — a podcast as well as both a documentary and scripted drama on Netflix — that revisit their case, a younger and newly informed generation has especially been looking at the pair’s case through a fresh and more empathetic lens.

Now, despite decades of attempts by the siblings’ legal teams to appeal their sentencing, a judge is now seriously considering their plea based on new evidence supporting their original defense that their parents were abusing them. A hearing for their case is set for Nov. 26. As a result, they could be released very soon.

As encouraging as that is for Lyle and Erik, and many other alleged victims of sexual abuse whose claims are too often ignored, the impact of the newly reframed pop culture conversation around them brings up a whole host of complicated thoughts.

For one thing, the growing popularity of the true crime genre on-screen as well as online radio often attracts more viewers today than years of news reports and other journalistic coverage. But with that rise comes questions concerning how it influences truth and conjecture in a criminal case.

But Kelly Hyman, an attorney who also hosts the true crime podcast, “Once Upon a Crime in Hollywood,” thinks the trend has a positive effect.

“It gives people an opportunity to hear about or see stuff that has never been seen before, and hopefully it will be a positive change,” she said on a video call. “I try to believe that the glass is half full and that it gives the victims an opportunity to shed light on what they’ve experienced.”

That positive change, she added, could come through the court system: “Hopefully it will bring about justice, because ultimately it’s about seeking justice, right?”

Sure. But in the case of “Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story,” created by Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan, the brothers themselves have asserted that the Netflix drama series depicts false details about their story that are also not flattering. To boot, it’s not a well-executed show. It’s campy as well as poorly written, directed and acted.

In a statement shared by his wife in September, Erik described “a caricature of Lyle rooted in horrible and blatant lies.”

As with any dramatic retelling, though, even with true crime sagas, storytellers are well within their right to not consult with the real-life subjects and even dramatize certain details for effect.

Regarding Lyle and Erik’s criticism, however, Murphy has said that while the show centers on their point of view and alleged abuse, it also includes the perspectives of other subjects in their story as well as theories about their case.

“I also understand that in this age when people can really talk about sexual abuse, which I didn’t have when I was younger,” he told Entertainment Tonight, “is that talking about it and writing about it and writing about all points of view can be controversial.”

That’s a fair point that seems to also take into consideration how difficult it could be for the Menendez brothers to have their lives, once again, dramatized on-screen. Murphy also recognizes the effect his show has had on how the public, and perhaps the justice system, now considers their case.

“Basically, we did give them a platform,” Murphy told Variety. “I think they can be out of prison by Christmas. I really believe that.”

He’s not the only one advocating for the brothers’ more immediate release. People like Kim Kardashian and Rosie O’Donnell have been vocal about it. While it’s hard to discern whether some of the support is performative or for clout, there’s also a whole TikTok movement around Lyle and Erik and the #JusticeforErikandLyle hashtag going right now on X.

Maybe they will walk soon. But all of this raises a question of whether the content and quality of a true crime narrative actually matter — or is it really just enough that it exists. Are some true crime dramas simply supplementary public relations?

Perhaps, but Hyman doesn’t think that’s a bad thing. “Does the Netflix series bring light to it?” she considered. “Now you have Kim Kardashian coming out there in their defense. So it’s the fact that it’s just good to have some type of PR, whether it’s good or bad, shaping the public opinion.”

While the attorney acknowledged those like Kardashian and others supporting Lyle and Erik’s potential release, she also understood that this new pop culture conversation around them has reignited a concurrent dialogue against their release.

She came back to the idea that it’s all beneficial to the fact that people are now talking about larger issues surrounding the case, including sexual abuse.

“Shedding light on the long lasting effects that sex abuse has on someone,” Hyman said. She referenced P.T. Barnum’s famous quote: “I don’t care what the newspapers say about me as long as they spell my name right.”

“Some may think of the court of public opinion,” Hyman continued. “It’s not. It’s really the Netflix series that has shed some light on the Menendez brothers and what happened.”

Both things seem to be true here, actually. And it’s important to look at a few other things concerning the role the court of public opinion has played in the brothers’ potential release.

It’s hard not to think about the fact that “Monsters,” as well as the subsequent online conversations about the Menendez brothers, kicked off right around the time as others had already been advocating, ultimately in vain, to pause the execution of Marcellus Williams.

Williams was a 55-year-old Black man who claimed to be wrongfully convicted for the 1998 murder of a white female journalist at her home in Missouri. He was sentenced to death.

Notable figures including Justices Sonia Sotomayor, Elena Kagan and Ketanji Brown Jackson, and the murder victim’s own family all disagreed with Williams’ death penalty sentence. He died by lethal injection on Sept. 24.

The treatment of Williams’ and the Menendez brothers’ cases, while two obviously different cases, are striking nonetheless. They had all been sitting in prison for many years, but Williams was a Black man who grew up in poverty and claimed he didn’t commit the murder for which he was sentenced. The Menendez brothers were rich, young, white men (José was Cuban American) from Beverly Hills who admitted to killing their parents in 1989.

The roles that race and class play here are glaring, as well as the effect celebrity and stan cultures have on the justice system. It also helps that celebrities that have been convicted of crimes, and those like the Menendez brothers who have been catapulted into a kind of pop culture celebrity, can more easily attract high-profile advocates that can elevate movements online.

There have been several series, podcasts and movies revisiting the Menendez brothers over the last few decades. Many folks hadn’t heard of Williams until weeks before his death. That’s no coincidence. If true crime sagas are to be looked at like their own type of advocacy, which can still be tricky to consider in regards, who has one and who doesn’t says a lot.

Hyman thought about that for a bit before responding.

“You hope that everyone in the court system — no matter who they are, no matter what they are — is not above the law,” she ultimately said. “That everyone should have adequate representation and should zealously advocate for their client.”

The attorney pointed to other, more diverse docuseries like “Quiet on Set: The Dark Side of Kids TV” and “Surviving R. Kelly” that are created in support of advocacy against harassment and abuse, and was cognizant about the fact that they don’t always affect positive change.

“You hope that this mechanism is used in a positive way to bring about change for people and to give victims a voice,” Hyman said, “rather than it be for someone solely because of their privilege or based on their particular race.”

One could certainly hope. “And if someone hasn’t committed a crime that they’re exonerated,” the attorney also said, “so they don’t have to spend the rest of their life in jail for a crime that they did not commit. Because no one wants that. That’s not justice.”

It’s not, but neither are whole advocacy campaigns that show a disproportionate amount of support for those who have been launched into the celebrity sphere as opposed to those who haven’t. It begs the question: What does actual justice look like in today’s true crime era?

CORRECTION: A prior version of this story misidentified the state where Marcellus Williams was sentenced and inaccurately described his sentence.