Can ordinary citizens who investigate crimes be a hindrance or a help to the justice system?

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True crime content has never been more popular, and technology is making citizen investigations increasingly accessible. But can just anyone be a sleuth? Insight’s Kumi Taguchi is joined by guests who’ve taken it upon themselves to find answers when authorities fall short, and asks if they’re ultimately helping or hindering? Watch Citizen Sleuths on .

When Madison McGhee lost her beloved father at the age of six, she was told he’d suffered a heart attack.

She had no reason to doubt this, until she learned 10 years later that he’d been murdered — shot and killed in the doorway of the family home in rural Ohio.

“It changed the course of my life,” Madison told Insight.

“I always say my dad died twice. I lost my dad to a heart attack when I was six. And I lost my dad to murder when I was 16.”

No one was ever convicted over the murder, which left Madison in a state of limbo.

“You don’t really have anywhere to put your energy and emotion. I can’t be mad at someone because I don’t know who it was.”

Unwilling to accept his unsolved murder, Madison started her own investigation during the COVID-19 pandemic when she was 23.

“I called the sheriff’s department to get access to the case files,” she said.

“And that opened a really big can of worms in my life.”

A smiling dad holds his young daughter in his arms, who is also smiling.

Madison (right) learned when she was 16 that her father (left) hadn’t died of a heart attack when she was little but had in fact been murdered. Source: Supplied

She began by interviewing friends and family, convinced someone close to the family must have answers.

“I still have family members who won’t speak to me,” she said.

“I had some people who were suspiciously supportive at the time, and some people who were really adamant that I should let it go.”

Power of the public

Haylee O’Connell also became a citizen sleuth in the hope of discovering what happened to a lost loved one.

Her brother Corey disappeared in 2021. At the time, Haylee reported him to the police as missing but felt like “there wasn’t any urgency” in trying to find him.

“I didn’t feel like it was taken seriously,” she told Insight.

A man and a woman, who are siblings, sit next to each and smile for the camera.

Haylee (right) says she decided to investigate her brother’s disappearance when she felt the police “didn’t take it seriously”. Source: Supplied

. She set up a Facebook group, which attracted the attention of a search and rescue dogs provider. With their help, she coordinated a large-scale search of the bushland near Nannup in Western Australia, where Corey’s car had been found.

She also started speaking with a Canberra-based drone operator, who offered his services for free.

“He ended up taking 41,000 images of the bushland where my brother went missing,” Haylee said.

The drone operator uploaded the images to a site where the public could zoom in to scan for something of interest.

“One of the members in the group messaged me. She said, ‘I think you need to send that picture to the police’.”

She had seen some bones.

A woman in high-vis gear stands outside in the bush with a backpack on her back.

Haylee believes she would never have found her brother’s remains without the help of citizen sleuths. Source: Supplied

The drone operator provided the coordinates, which eventually led police to her brother’s remains.

Haylee said the citizen sleuth community kept her going throughout her search ordeal.

“I wouldn’t have found Corey if it wasn’t for them.”

When sleuths are a hindrance

But not everyone sees citizen sleuths as valuable.

Associate professor Xanthe Mallett of Newcastle University, who has an extensive career in forensics and criminology, says people investigating outside of official channels can be a hindrance.

“It can be a bit of a double-edged sword. So many people now are becoming citizen sleuths that the police are literally overwhelmed. They’re obligated to follow up on tips that come in,” she said.

“How do they actually wade through them to determine what may be useful?”

Beyond the police investigation, Xanthe says sleuths can also affect the outcome of trials.

“There are quite strict rules around this, what people can share online. They may be trying to help, but sometimes it can actually cause problems in the criminal justice system.

“Information being shared during court cases, for example, that can make that highly problematic.”

She adds that sleuths’ theories are rarely on the money.

“I’m yet to actually be presented with information that has actually progressed one of the cases I’m working on.”

Despite this, Xanthe can empathise with the desire for answers when authorities have fallen short.

“I understand why people want to get involved in cases, especially those they feel a personal connection to, when they haven’t received the answers that they need.”

Sleuths ‘bring a fresh set of eyes’

Truck driver Trevor Gross has been interested in solving crimes since he was six years old.

“I’d go to a shop with my mum and dad. I’d get home with a whole list of number plates and say: ‘This guy didn’t use his indicator, this guy was doing this wrong, this guy was doing that wrong’.”

Now, during his long hours behind the wheel, he ponders cold cases.

“When I’m on the road at work, there’s a lot of time to kill,” he told Insight.

His sleuthing went to the next level when he discovered what he believes is a link between some of Australia’s most famous cold cases.

“There’s the Beaumont children, the missing Adelaide abduction of the two girls, and Mr Cruel.”

The Beaumont children were three young siblings who disappeared from Glenelg Beach near Adelaide in 1966. Mr Cruel is the moniker for an unidentified Australian serial child rapist who attacked three girls in the Melbourne suburbs during the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Trevor says sleuths like him sometimes have an advantage over police when investigating, particularly with cold cases.

“I bring a fresh set of eyes and a mind for it and, they also have a lot on … whereas I can just concentrate on these cases for as long as I need to.

“I enjoy just looking into cases that maybe the police have missed stuff on.”

A man with a tattooed arm looks at the camera with a neutral expression. There is water and a palm tree in the background.

During his long hours on the road as a truck driver, Trevor ponders cold crime cases. Source: Supplied

Despite being adamant about the validity of his theory — which has never been proved, Trevor says his investigation is at a standstill.

Three months ago, he went to a local police station and presented his findings.

“They took their notes and said that they had to tell other people in other states. I don’t think they’ve done anything,” he said.

“I can only do so much without being a detective or law enforcement.”

A pinboard of pictures and newspaper clippings.

Trevor has been fascinated by Australia’s cold cases since he was a child. Source: Supplied

Trevor says it’s disappointing his information didn’t have more impact because he’s doing research where others lack the resourcing.

“There’s just too many families out there in Australia that want answers.

“And I want to help give them answers.”

Madison continues to search for answers around the death of her father, even turning her investigation into a podcast series, Ice Cold Case.

“Saying ‘this is my dad, this is someone who was a community member, a brother, a son,’ and sharing his story from a really human perspective was really important to me,” she said.

“It had been 20 years since he was murdered and there was no movement, there was no traction. And it was the only way I could really think [of] that I had control and power over.”

As a result of the podcast, people started to come forward with information, which Madison is in the process of gathering to rebuild a case file to present to the police.

“In order to solve this case, I don’t feel like I have any other option,” she said.

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