They enjoyed the thrill of killing someone, both for the sake of it and to fulfil their hateful fantasies. Although the police did not initially consider Brianna’s murder to be a hate crime (with the kill list suggesting that if not Brianna, another victim would’ve fallen prey), it was eventually acknowledged that the murder was in part driven by transphobia, citing transphobic messages exchanged between the killers. Jenkinson’s exposure to depraved content on the dark web (and her subsequent desire to carry out these fantasies herself) undoubtedly played a role in desensitising them to the gravity of their actions. The fact that both perpetrators had meticulously planned her murder, even going as far as to create a “kill list”, speaks to a disturbing fascination with violence, torture, and death. The premeditation and cruelty of the attack are chilling. It is unfathomable to even comprehend the sheer terror Brianna must have experienced in her final moments.īoth Jenkinson and Ratcliffe have been convicted of murder and have been detained at his majesty’s pleasure for a minimum of 22 and 20 years respectively. As someone who battled anxiety and depression, Brianna’s outing that day was likely a rare attempt at socialising, making the betrayal even more devastating. The revelation that one of Brianna’s attackers, Scarlett Jenkinson, was someone she considered to be her friend, only adds another layer of horror to the case. It was a nauseating reminder of the voyeuristic culture that thrives on the exploitation of tragedy. Images of the accused, their faces obscured by blurry school photos only accessible by fellow students, circulated clandestinely and sent shivers down my spine. Despite the anonymity order shielding the identities of Brianna’s murderers (their names were only revealed at sentencing), the internet had begun buzzing with speculations and rumours. It was a chance encounter on TikTok that ignited this obsession, a fleeting twenty second video leading me down a rabbit hole of illicit information. Yet, it wasn’t until recently, as the 18 day trial of her killers drew to a close, that I found myself drawn back into the harrowing details of her story. I still recall the shock and horror when news of Brianna’s death first broke on the BBC. She was brutally stabbed 28 times by Eddie Ratcliffe and Scarlett Jenkinson, two teenagers. In February 2023, 16-year-old Brianna Ghey, a transgender girl, was senselessly killed in a park in Cheshire. After each deep dive into yet another murder case, I’m left hollow, consumed by a pervasive sense of dread and anxiety.Īmong the countless tragedies that have left an indelible mark on my psyche, one in particular stands out. It was as if I were compelled by some morbid curiosity, driven by the haunting question: what if it were me? How will I recognise the signs of danger without immersing myself in these grisly accounts? It doesn’t seem impossible considering the horrifying number of violent crimes against women, with the UK Femicide Census reporting roughly 100 femicides a year.īut this obsession, this insatiable hunger for the macabre, has exacted a heavy toll on my mental health. Despite the nightmares and creeping sense of paranoia that inevitably followed, I couldn’t tear myself away. Each would recount the chilling tales of victims (often young women like myself) falling prey to the most heinous acts imaginable. Soon, I found myself ensnared in a relentless cycle, devouring one documentary after another. It started with a casual click on a recommended YouTube video little did I know, that simple action would plunge me into a dark and addictive abyss. We all have unhealthy or questionable obsessions, and, for me, this used to be true crime.

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