Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Jan. 8, 2005
If you have been engaging with social media in recent days, it is likely that you have encountered discussions surrounding the Netflix original series Making a Murderer. I delayed watching it for as long as possible, still recovering from a binge of Breaking Bad. However, when my daughter, a sophomore in college, returned home for winter break and requested to watch it together, I complied. When a college student invites you to spend time with them, it is an opportunity not to be missed. Thus, we embarked on what turned into an intense viewing marathon.
Residing in Minnesota, the Midwestern nuances did not significantly impact our initial viewing experience as they might for others. Those familiar with areas of Minnesota, Michigan, or Wisconsin may recognize individuals akin to the Avery family depicted in the series. I was unaware of the subtitles until a friend mentioned them on social media. The nostalgic quirks of the upper-Midwest in the 1990s were initially entertaining—everything from the hairstyles to the oversized glasses to the unique owl lamps in Dolores Avery’s living room. Yet, the gripping narrative soon captured our full attention.
To summarize without revealing spoilers, the series chronicles the case of Steven Avery, a Wisconsin man wrongfully convicted of sexual assault and attempted murder in 1985, who spent 18 years in prison until DNA evidence exonerated him. Despite his past legal issues, including a troubling incident involving a family pet, the evidence against Avery was deeply flawed. Two years after his release, following an attempt to sue Manitowoc County officials, he was arrested again, this time for the murder of local photographer Teresa Halbach. For those unfamiliar with the tale, I encourage you to watch it on Netflix.
As a mother with nearly 22 years of experience, my perspective on the series was inevitably shaped by my role as a parent. I felt a profound empathy for Dolores Avery, Steven’s mother, as she recounted her relentless visits to her son in prison, often braving treacherous winter roads. This sentiment resonates with any parent who understands the lengths to which a mother will go for her child.
Another poignant maternal figure in the documentary is Barb, the mother of Brendan Dassey, a teenager involved in the investigation of Halbach’s murder. Brendan’s recorded phone conversations with Barb reveal a moving dynamic between them, particularly when she reassures him, “You’re not stupid to me.” For any parent who has comforted a child dealing with insecurities, this statement strikes a deep chord.
The portrayals of motherhood in this series illuminate the stark contrasts in our individual lives. They highlight the resources—or lack thereof—that influence parenting styles, as well as the complexities of education, genetics, socioeconomic status, and their roles in shaping our children’s futures. The narrative unfolds chaotically, echoing the unpredictable nature of life itself. If you haven’t yet seen it, I highly recommend it; it is bound to evoke a range of emotions, from anger to sadness, while offering insightful perspectives on life and family.
After viewing, I found that the small irritations of parenting—like a pile of dirty dishes in my teenager’s room—felt less significant. I made sure to hug my children tightly.
In conclusion, the stories of the mothers portrayed in Making a Murderer serve as profound reminders of the complexities of parenthood and the far-reaching consequences of our actions. For further insights into parenting and reproductive health, consider exploring resources like this article on home insemination, or check out this authoritative source for fertility-related topics. Additionally, this resource offers valuable information on fertility insurance.