On TikTok, True Crime Survivors Take Control

On Feb. 9, 2004, Maura Murray went missing on Route 112 in Haverhill, N.H., after a string of puzzling events. A neighbor who witnessed a single-car crash reported it to the police. When officers showed up, Murray’s car was locked and she was nowhere to be found. She hasn’t been seen since.

Her sister Julie Murray thought there were more strange elements that didn’t add up. Maura’s computer revealed a confusing internet search history, and she had made seemingly random A.T.M. withdrawals. Different people Maura had spoken with before her disappearance reported that she had lied to them about various things.

Julie spent years trying to find out what happened to her sister, creating a website and trying to get coverage in traditional media. But it wasn’t until 2022, when a video she uploaded to @mauramurraymissing on TikTok amassed more than three million views, that she drew wider attention.

“I was able to sort of take agency over my sister’s story for the first time,” she said. “I can just go on and on and on about the wonders that TikTok has done for me.”

True crime podcasts, movies and investigative TV series are wildly popular, often raking in profits for their producers and platforms. Many, though, are made without the consent or involvement of those most closely affected. A growing number of survivors of crimes, and family members of the victims of unresolved attacks and disappearances, say that TikTok has given them more control over their stories.

“TikTok is the only equal playing field out there where a random person can create an account today and go just as viral as Kim Kardashian,” said Sarah Turney, whose stepsister, Alissa, went missing in 2001.