When the Watts family murder case exploded across headlines in 2018, I was glued to my screen like everyone else. But while most people fixated on Chris Watts’ chilling confession (which changed more times than I change my true crime podcast subscriptions), I couldn’t stop thinking about something lurking beneath the surface — the financial disaster that was brewing long before the murders.
Let’s be real: money problems don’t turn everyone into killers (thank god, or we’d all be in trouble after holiday shopping season). But the Watts family’s financial situation was about as stable as a Jenga tower in the hands of a toddler hopped up on Pixy Stix.
The Financial House of Cards
In June 2015, Chris and Shanann Watts filed for bankruptcy with over $70,000 in debt hanging over their heads. I’ve spent hours combing through those court documents (yes, this is what I do on Friday nights while Ryan watches sports), and it’s a financial horror story that’ll make your credit card statement look like child’s play.
Their debt cocktail? A nauseating mix of credit cards, student loans, and medical bills. At the time of filing, they had less than $870 in their checking account — barely enough to cover a month’s worth of my true crime subscription services, let alone support a family of four.
Chris was pulling in about $63,000 a year from Anadarko Petroleum, while their combined income the year before bankruptcy was around $91,000. Not terrible on paper, but clearly not enough to keep them afloat in their suburban Colorado lifestyle.
The Social Media Mirage
Here’s where things get fascinating (in that can’t-look-away-from-a-car-crash kind of way): While drowning in debt, Shanann was posting on social media about financial success and her thriving career with a multi-level marketing company.
I’ve analyzed her Facebook posts like they’re crime scene photos, and the disconnect between their financial reality and online persona is jarring. It’s the financial equivalent of those Instagram influencers who rent private jets for photoshoots then fly home economy. (We see you, Karen.)
According to detailed reports from local stations, the Watts family was living a lifestyle their bank account couldn’t cash checks for. A 4,200-square-foot home, new furniture, multiple cars — all while their credit cards were maxed out like it was the last shopping day before apocalypse.
The Pressure Cooker Effect
Financial stress does weird things to people. Trust me, I’ve spent enough time researching killers to know that money problems don’t typically create murderers out of thin air — but they can absolutely be the pressure that causes an already-cracked foundation to completely shatter.
By August 2018, the cracks were showing. Shanann was pregnant with their third child, they were facing a $1,500 homeowners association lawsuit, and investigators discovered they were nowhere near recovered from their 2015 bankruptcy.
(Meanwhile, I stress-eat an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s just from getting an unexpected $50 parking ticket, so I cannot fathom the pressure cooker that was the Watts household.)
The Financial Aftermath
The financial fallout didn’t end with the murders. Shanann’s family was left not only grieving unimaginable losses but also dealing with funeral expenses, legal consultations, and the emotional cost that no bank account could ever quantify.
The community in Frederick, Colorado faced its own financial burden — increased law enforcement costs, community support services, and the intangible cost of lost sense of security. Multiple community fundraisers popped up to help Shanann’s family navigate the financial burden while grieving.
What No One Talks About
Here’s what keeps me up at night (besides, you know, thinking about whether my apartment door is actually locked): We focus so much on the horrific crime that we miss the warning signs that were flashing like neon lights for years.
Financial literacy isn’t just about balancing checkbooks — it’s about recognizing when financial stress is creating dangerous pressure in a household. The Watts family’s financial struggles weren’t just about money; they were about shame, secrecy, and a desperate attempt to maintain appearances.
Would better financial education or support have prevented this tragedy? Probably not. Chris Watts made his choices, and they were monstrous beyond comprehension. But their financial situation was the kindling in what would become an inferno.
And that’s something worth talking about — preferably before another family’s finances become a footnote in a murder investigation.
(I’m going to triple-check my door locks now. You should too.)