When I was 11, I watched my first Menendez brothers documentary while eating Froot Loops after my parents went to bed. (Sorry Mom, but true crime was calling.) I remember thinking they were obviously guilty—two rich kids who wanted daddy’s money so badly they turned their parents into Swiss cheese with shotguns. Case closed, right?
Fast forward to 2024, and suddenly everyone’s talking about these brothers like they’re misunderstood trauma survivors instead of cold-blooded killers. It’s as if the entire true crime community collectively decided to flip the script faster than a detective with new DNA evidence.
So what happened? How did Lyle and Erik Menendez transform from the poster boys for patricide to potential victims of a justice system that failed to recognize abuse? Let’s dissect this shift like a good crime scene.
The Original Narrative: Privileged Killers
The 1989 murders were as brutal as they come. Jose and Kitty Menendez were watching TV in their Beverly Hills mansion when their sons entered with shotguns and—well, you know the rest. It was as subtle as a bloodstain on white carpet.
Initial media coverage painted the brothers as spoiled rich kids who wanted their inheritance early. And honestly? The shopping spree that followed the murders didn’t exactly scream “grieving sons.” Rolex watches, Porsche cars, and a restaurant business? C’mon guys, at least pretend to mourn.
The prosecution’s case seemed airtight. Two entitled brats with a $14 million motive and no alibi. The brothers were eventually convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life without parole in 1996 after two trials. (Ryan always points out that the first trial ended with hung juries, which I conveniently forget when arguing my theories.)
The Turning Point: Abuse Allegations Surface
During their trials, the brothers claimed something that changed everything: their father had sexually abused them for years.
At the time, this defense was treated with skepticism bordering on mockery. It was the early ’90s—an era when male sexual abuse was discussed about as often as proper crime scene protocol is followed in horror movies (which is to say, never).
The prosecution argued the abuse claims were fabricated to save their skin. And many Americans, including yours truly, bought it hook, line, and sinker.
Today’s Perspective: Trauma-Informed Justice
Fast forward to our current era of trauma awareness, and suddenly the Menendez case looks different. The comprehensive timeline of the brothers’ case reveals details that many of us missed or dismissed the first time around.
The recent Peacock documentary “Menendez + Menudo: Boys Betrayed” dropped bombshells that would make even the most hardened true crime junkie reconsider their position. Former Menudo member Roy Rosselló alleged that Jose Menendez sexually abused him too, potentially corroborating the brothers’ claims of abuse.
Suddenly, the brothers’ excessive spending after the murders reads differently—like trauma responses rather than celebrations. (I’ve gone down enough psychology rabbit holes to know that trauma can make people do things that seem irrational to outsiders.)
The Cultural Shift That Changed Everything
Our understanding of abuse, trauma, and its effects has evolved dramatically since the ’90s. Back then, the brothers’ emotional testimony was seen as manipulative theater. Today, experts recognize that their behaviors align with those of abuse survivors.
The detailed Beverly Hills murder case has become a cultural touchpoint for discussions about how we treat abuse claims, especially from men. Los Angeles County District Attorney George Gascón recently ordered a review of the case—something that would have been unthinkable even a decade ago.
Would They Be Convicted Today?
If the Menendez case happened in 2024 instead of 1989, would the outcome be different? The evidence suggests probably.
Today’s courts are more likely to consider trauma-informed perspectives. The brothers’ defense—that they feared for their lives after threatening to expose the abuse—might hold more water with contemporary juries who understand the complex psychology of abuse victims.
Their extensive prison rehabilitation would also factor differently today. Both brothers have been model prisoners for over 30 years, with spotless disciplinary records and extensive work helping other inmates.
The Question We’re All Asking
Were the Menendez brothers calculating killers who deserved their fate, or traumatized abuse victims who snapped after years of suffering?
I’ve flipped on this case more times than a pancake at IHOP. The truth probably lies somewhere in the complicated middle—a place where someone can be both victim and perpetrator, where trauma explains but doesn’t excuse, and where justice might look different than it did in 1996.
One thing’s certain: our evolving understanding of trauma has forever changed how we view this case. And maybe that’s a good thing.
(But I still triple-check my doors are locked before bed. Old habits die hard.)