The Karen Read Trial and the Echoes of Public Obsession

This post is about the Karen Read trial, or more specifically, the second Karen Reed trial which is currently ongoing as of this writing. This isn’t really an opinion piece about her guilt or innocence, because frankly, my opinion doesn’t matter in that regard. Instead, I want to share a story, an anecdote really, that’s stuck with me and has made me think more deeply about true crime culture, the court of public opinion, and the increasingly blurred line between criminal justice and online spectacle.

So, here’s a quick recap, in case you’re not up to speed: Karen Read is on trial for the second time for the alleged murder of her boyfriend, Boston police officer John O’Keefe. The incident occurred in January of 2022, during a blizzard, after a night of drinking and what might have been an argument between Reed and O’Keefe. The next morning, O’Keefe was found dead in the snow outside a home in Canton, Massachusetts, possibly the result of blunt force trauma. Initially, Read was accused of striking O’Keefe with her car and was charged with manslaughter, but that charge was later upgraded to second-degree murder.

That’s when things really took off. The case has drawn conspiracy theories, intense speculation, and a massive public response. For a while, that was about all I knew. I vaguely remembered hearing about it when it first happened, there was a blizzard, we were just coming out of the pandemic, and it got some local news coverage here in Rhode Island.

For context, I live about 30 to 40 minutes from Canton, Massachusetts, where this all took place. So it was in the air, radio chatter, local news. Then, I started seeing posts online, especially from Turtleboy, a controversial local social media figure who’s known for going after politicians and public figures in southern Massachusetts. He latched onto the Read case hard and started posting about it nonstop.

At first, I didn’t really pay it much attention. I skimmed the headlines and moved on. I remember seeing early news reports, and then it sort of fell off my radar. I mean, this is a relatively small case; tragic, yes, but not unusual on its face. That changed later, when I started noticing “Free Karen Read” signs, first in Massachusetts, then all over my own neighborhood here in Rhode Island. That’s when I started wondering: why this case? Why this woman? What is it about this trial that has captured the public imagination in such a dramatic way?

The real shift in my thinking came earlier this year. In March, I was invited to present at an international forensic psychology conference hosted by the Centers for American Studies. This nonprofit provides free educational programming for adult learners in places like Poland, Ukraine, and other parts of Eastern Europe, with a focus on American culture, law, and history. I’ve worked with them before and was happy to be invited back. The conference was small—maybe 30 participants---and held virtually. My presentation focused on false confessions and the psychology behind police interrogations, touching on some of the reforms recommended by organizations like the American Psychology-Law Society.

The format was a bit unusual. Rather than taking questions after each speaker, we waited until the end of the session to open things up for general discussion. When it was finally my turn to field questions, I was expecting inquiries about false memory, or perhaps comparisons between American and European interrogation practices. Instead, a man from Warsaw unmuted and asked, “Dr. Gamache, what is your opinion of the Karen Read trial?”

I was floored. Not because I had strong feelings about the case, but because I had no idea this trial had made international headlines. There was no way this guy could have known that I live relatively close to Canton, or that signs supporting Read had popped up all over my community. To him, I was just an American researcher, and this case was on his radar. I gave a measured response, something like, “There’s a lot of controversy and strong opinions on both sides,” and added, almost offhandedly, “I live about 50 kilometers from Canton,” (which earned me some international points, even if my math was a little fuzzy).That moment really stayed with me. Because it wasn’t just the question. It was what the question represented: that somehow, this local Massachusetts trial had become global. People around the world were watching a story unfold that I had only half-followed in my own backyard.

After that, I started paying more attention to the case. I watched the HBO documentary, which (say what you want) was surprisingly well-produced, though probably not helpful to Read’s public image. She comes off as… intense, at best. Maybe that’s unfair, but I can’t imagine many defense attorneys would want their client documented that way. That said, her defense team seems to be embracing the public spotlight. They’re leaning hard into a narrative of persecution, of conspiracy, of wrongful accusation---and they’ve gained a following for it.

Whether Karen Read is guilty or innocent, what’s fascinating to me is how much this case is being fought outside the courtroom. Her supporters have built a massive campaign. There are rallies. There’s merch. There’s a movement. You don’t see that often. And I think it says something about where we are culturally.

The first trial ended in a mistrial—a hung jury. One of the claims was that protestors chanting “Free Karen Read!” outside the courthouse were so loud that jurors couldn’t concentrate. That’s astonishing. And yet, it makes a strange kind of sense. We live in an era where court cases double as content, where podcasts, livestreams, and Reddit threads pick apart every detail in real time, long before a verdict is reached.

Now, we’re in the second trial, and things seem quieter on the surface. Less media access. Tighter control. But the energy is still there, humming under everything. The prosecution just rested, and now it’s the defense’s turn. I don’t know how this will end. My gut says that the second-degree murder charge will be hard to prove beyond a reasonable doubt. Manslaughter might be more likely, but even that is complicated. It’s a messy case.

And it makes me think of the O.J. Simpson trial. I’m old enough to remember it, fifth grade, I think. I remember our teachers wheeling in the old box TV to watch the verdict live. That’s not something schools do anymore, (I don’t know what teachers do when they’re hungover any more, youtube?) but the cultural moment was huge. People stopped what they were doing to see how it would play out. The only other time I remember such an event with everyone stopping at school to watch the news was during 9/11. I remember my teachers being crushed about the Simpson verdict, they clearly had been following the “trial of the century”.

Now, I don’t think the Karen Read trial has reached “trial of the century” status. But I do think people are watching, especially in New England but also beyond. I wouldn’t be surprised if workplaces paused when the verdict is announced in the next couple of weeks or so. I wouldn’t be surprised if the livestream numbers shoot through the roof. Because this isn’t just a case. It’s a story. And people love stories, especially the ones that let them pick a side.

That brings me to what I really wanted to say in this post: Why this case?

Why this woman, this man, this moment? There are dozens of active murder trials happening in New England right now, some arguably more horrific or complex. So, what is it about this one that has captivated people?

Is it the fact that Karen Read is a white, attractive, well-spoken woman—someone people can project onto, sympathize with, or revile? Is it the fact that John O’Keefe was a police officer, a single dad, someone with public respect and symbolic weight? Is it the web of connections: law enforcement, social status, small-town politics—that hint at something deeper, more sinister? Is it the suggestion of a cover-up? Or is it simply that the story fits so neatly into the framework we’ve created around true crime: the innocent woman, the flawed hero, the lurking conspiracy?

I don’t have the answers. But I do think we should be asking the questions. Because cases like this don’t exist in a vacuum. They become mirrors for our fears, our biases, our thirst for justice, or drama, or chaos. And maybe, when we talk about them, we’re also talking about ourselves.

So, if you’re following the Karen Read trial, closely, casually, obsessively, I hope you’ll take a moment to reflect on what’s drawing you in. Is it the pursuit of truth? The thrill of the unknown? The need to believe in innocence, or in guilt? Is it justice, or just curiosity?

Closing arguments in Reed’s trial should begin today or tomorrow. I wonder what this will look like afterwards. Whatever it is, this case has become more than a trial. It’s a phenomenon. And phenomena, especially in the true crime space, are always worth interrogating.

-Dr. G