A Serial Obsession with Killers
Throughout our lives, we often end up doing a great deal for the people around us, adjusting our plans, lending them a bit of money, or offering advice when they need it. Most of the time, these small favors probably don’t even feel like anything worth remembering. They’re just part of what we expect from friends and family, and it only makes sense to return that same courtesy to them.
But there’s still a line somewhere. It’s not like we’d be willing to do anything. The question is, where do we actually draw that line?
The answer to that exact question has become something modern television loves to give through its portrayals of a certain character archetype: serial killers. In these shows, the answer is simple: there is no line. These shows, by virtue of being fiction, let us, the viewers, peer into a world where people aren’t bound by the same constraints that you or I live with. We watch characters cross boundaries we would normally consider “wrong” and break the law, all from the comfort of our screens.
And, contrary to what you might expect from watching a literal criminal, a surprising number of viewers have become captivated by the idea of being the object of desire for one of these characters, overlooking some of their more condemnable actions in favor of focusing solely on qualities that appear more appealing.
Though that line of thinking may seem harmless—after all, what damage could a simple fantasy do?—the moment we start excusing harmful behavior just to preserve an idealized version of a character is the moment that mindset begins to slip into real life. A bleed in that has become very apparent following the shooting of Brian Thompson, the CEO of UnitedHealthcare, where, rather than condemn the act of killing, online discourse has instead shifted towards idolizing the shooter, Luigi Mangione.
The main culprit behind this major trend? Enter Joe Goldberg from the hit TV show YOU—a psychological thriller centered on a serial killer searching for his “perfect” partner. Goldberg is by no means the first fictional murderer on television, nor is he the first to attract the fascination of viewers. But his prominence in modern culture makes him especially worth examining. The show has accumulated over 250,000 IMDb ratings of seven or higher, leaving its influence—and its reach—beyond question.
With that popularity has come the exact kind of romanticization of serial killers described earlier, with phrases like “I need a Joe in my life” and “It should have been me” becoming surprisingly common in online discussions about a man who is, very clearly, a deeply unstable individual. And on the surface, despite the obvious problems in his behavior, it isn’t hard to see why people have become so drawn to his character.
He cares about you so much that nothing will stop him from being the perfect person for you.
Goldberg presents himself as thoughtful and attentive; he picks up on what you like, actually listens to you speak, remembers small details most people overlook, and performs acts—small or big—that come off as affectionate. He creates the sense that you’ve finally met the one person who understands you better than everyone else around you.
Sure, Goldberg may bury a few bodies here and there or stalk you from time to time, but it’s all just an expression of his love, and no one’s perfect. If he’s only killing “bad” people and just keeping an eye on you, what’s the harm? He cares about you so much that nothing will stop him from being the perfect person for you. So it’s all water under the bridge, right?
If you were to look only at the fan discourse surrounding Goldberg, it wouldn’t be surprising if you reached that conclusion. While yes, some of it is technically true, Goldberg, like many figures in 21st-century media, has become the victim or perhaps the beneficiary of a massive obfuscation of the truth. Yes, he learns your interests. Yes, he appears thoughtful. But those details come with another side that fans conveniently ignore: Goldberg is controlling, obsessive, and dangerously paranoid. That willingness to do anything is quite literally a willingness to do anything. He’ll remove any obstacle his constantly suspicious mind interprets as a threat, whether it’s your friends, your family, or even you.
Goldberg, like many figures in 21st-century media, has become the victim or perhaps the beneficiary of a massive obfuscation of the truth
The idea of having a “Joe” in your life becomes much less appealing with that in mind, doesn’t it? As much as online edits or fan comments may try to convince you otherwise, Goldberg is not a misunderstood romantic trying his best, nor is he some prince charming swooping in to fix your life. The truths about his character have been overshadowed to spotlight only his most appealing qualities, because the idea of someone like Joe obsessively fawning over us is, in a way, intoxicating in the importance it makes us feel.
For characters like Goldberg, viewers are given an unusually intimate view into a warped perception of reality. Throughout the show, we listen to Goldberg’s own inner monologue, which frames his actions as rational, justified, or even necessary. Psychologist Perpetua Neo explains, this kind of perceived access and “understanding” makes viewers far more likely to empathize with killers and, without realizing it, begin rationalizing on their behalf.
When you combine that with the fact that Penn Badgley plays Goldberg—someone widely considered conventionally attractive—and the fact that Goldberg as a character possesses some traits that people may find “romantic,” the way in which Goldberg’s character has been received becomes a lot less surprising. Viewers who become attached to their idealized version of Goldberg start trying to rationalize their desire for him. They convince themselves that Goldberg would somehow make an ideal partner in real life, and that he’s simply a troubled, “fixable” character who just needs the right person to set him straight.
As mentioned earlier, the normalization of this mindset has started to bleed into the real world—not in the sense that people suddenly want to date serial killers, but in the sense that because audiences have become used to excusing certain actions from fictional characters in favor of seeing them in a more positive light, many have also become more willing to extend that same leniency to real people.
In a sense, the obsession to make Goldberg align with our desire, to the point where we begin diminishing literal crimes, has made this mode of rationalization no longer limited to fiction and far easier to slip into subconsciously.
The case of Luigi Mangione is a perfect example. Despite the widespread belief that he shot and killed another human being, many young adults have spoken about him favorably while fully acknowledging that he likely committed the crime. Their justifications range from finding him attractive to believing that the victim “deserved it.”
It mirrors the same pattern we see with Goldberg: despite someone engaging in behavior that is clearly morally and legally reprehensible, a single desirable trait—whether it’s attractiveness, charisma, or perceived protectiveness—becomes enough for fans to overlook or even justify their actions. Instead of treating these behaviors as the serious offenses they are, they’re reduced to quirky details or bits of trivia that sit at the edge of the character’s appeal.
Psychologists agree with this sentiment, attributing this phenomenon in large part to the explosion of media that romanticizes violent characters, especially in the form of short-form edits and curated clips that strip away context and spotlight only the “attractive” or “soft” moments. When those edits dominate online spaces, they create an environment where excusing or ignoring criminal behavior starts to feel normal—even justified.
Now, despite everything I’ve said about the way we treat fictional characters who are very clearly bad people, I don’t think the solution is to condemn the creators of these shows. Penn Badgley and the team behind YOU have repeatedly emphasized Goldberg’s flaws and the danger of romanticizing him, and even if they didn’t it’s not like most are trying to cause this shift in outlook. The responsibility doesn’t fall on the producers to stop the viewers from trying to explain why the literal serial killer on the screen is actually a perfect partner. Instead, it falls on the viewers to be more conscious of the media we consume.
Most of the issues surrounding the romanticization of serial killers grow out of letting our biases override our judgment. If we take even a moment to think critically about what we’re watching, it becomes obvious that no amount of clever framing or emotional manipulation should ever make us sympathetic to characters who commit horrific acts; because once we stop condemning that behavior in fiction, we open the door to normalizing it outside of it, and that’s a line we can’t afford to blur.