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Two days’ notice is all director Margaret Brown had to figure out how to give her true-crime docuseries “The Yogurt Shop Murders” an ending. The original four-part series, chronicling the brutal 1991 murders of four young
women in Austin, Texas, denied audiences what the victims’ families had similarly been robbed of for 35 years: closure. A killer had never been identified, and the four men some investigators believed were involved in the murders spent the last 20 years fighting the false accusations. It was hardly the kind of satisfying ending audiences often hope for in their true crime. But after the series aired on HBO last fall, Brown learned there had been a break in the case. She had two days to delay the planned start of another project and gather her crew to be on the ground when lead investigator Dan Jackson made the announcement that known serial killer Robert Brashers’ DNA had been linked to the crime. Brashers died by suicide in 1999, meaning families and friends finally had a name but not all the answers. “As soon as it was leaked, I called our producer Alice [Henty] and said, ‘We have to rally now,’” Brown says. “I turned back around and flew to Austin. That was on Saturday, and I think it was Monday we were shooting.” The lightning-fast regrouping to give this series an unexpected fifth chapter is the type of filmmaking feat that is often showered with awards, and “The Yogurt Shop Murders” was nominated for doc or nonfiction series. But historically speaking, it is an anomaly. Despite the true-crime craze that currently has a grip on streamers and networks, the series is only the fifth murder-focused series to be nominated in the category in a decade, following “Making a Murderer” (2016), “The Keepers” (2017), “Tiger King” (2020) and “The Jinx Part 2” (2024). The category is constantly evolving. For years, exceptional nature and lifestyle documentaries like “Planet Earth” and “100 Foot Wave” dominated the nominee pool. But more recent years have seen it skew heavily toward celebrity-focused series, including three nominees this year for projects about Martin Scorsese, Sean “Diddy” Combs and Rafael Nadal. Other crime-centric series have made the cut over the years, like Investigation Discovery’s “Quiet on Set” in 2024 and Netflix’s “Wild Wild Country,” which won the statue in 2018. Yet, the tried-and-true-crime genre is often ignored, despite an endless library of options in any given year. “The Yogurt Shop Murders” is Brown’s first true-crime project, so she is hesitant to speak on why some of the most-watched docuseries each year are being overlooked by the Television Academy. But she does have an idea — or at least a hope — as to why her series, which counts Emma Stone among its producers, broke through where others haven’t. “It’s primal,” she says. “We all die. If you’re asking me, I really wanted to make something that touches on how people process grief in different ways and sneak it into the true-crime genre. Grief touches everybody, and it interests me that you can explore that with true crime. Can I make something that allows people to touch on their own experience with it through this genre?” Brown didn’t watch a bunch of true-crime classics before she took this story on. She didn’t try to hit on the hallmarks that define the genre, but she also knows that there’s great power in bringing attention and awareness to stories that may feel like local examples of tragedy, but can also offer universal insights into human nature. The impact of the series and the reach of true crime have been undeniable. While in Eastern Europe last year, she was in an Uber and the driver talked about the latest series she was watching — “The Yogurt Shop Murders.” It took some convincing, but the driver eventually believed she was carting around the director and immediately had questions. But that’s not even the most unexpected place Brown has found her own series.“It’s on Delta!” she says. “You don’t even know how many people are sending me photos from over someone’s shoulder, showing me that they’re watching it and crying on a plane.” One insight into the true-crime genre that Brown is still grappling with is the gendered reactions to it. “The way women respond to it has been really interesting to me,” she says. “A lot of my female friends are like, ‘I can’t watch that. I love you, but I can’t watch the show.’ Then some women are like, ‘Oh, my God, I have to watch all of it right away.’ Even I got so freaked out making this show that I got an alarm system installed, and I’ve never had an alarm system. There’s something about the story that just gets to you.” Could that be the barrier to entry for those in the Academy who simply don’t turn on true-crime docuseries? That people hesitate to even press play on these stories that might terrify them, or at least aren’t willing to admit they watched by throwing these projects their support? It’s a question that has plagued horror storytellers in television for decades and is currently being batted around with successes like “Widow’s Bay,” maybe thanks to the show’s comic element. But true crime still faces a split: It is by far one of the most bankable genres in Hollywood, even if the awards bodies in town don’t laud it as much as audiences. It’s unclear if “The Yogurt Shop Murders” is the first of many to come, or the last of the contenders to break through in an ever-changing category. But after descending into the genre for the series and then returning for its sudden ending, Brown can’t exactly blame those hesitant to do the same. “This is obviously really dark stuff, where I just don’t want to be in that world,” she says. “Life is too short, and I’d rather make a movie about dogs or crows or love or anything but death and rape.”
