Netflix's 'Should I Marry a Murderer?' asks the wrong question | Opinion

Editor's note: This column contains spoilers for the documentary "Should I Marry a Murderer?" and descriptions of murder.

Picture this: A brilliant young Scottish forensic pathologist has just escaped an abusive relationship when she meets a charming outdoorsman living on a remote estate. Within weeks, the whirlwind romance leads to a surprise engagement.

What could go wrong? As it turns out, quite a lot.

That’s the premise of Netflix’s docuseries “Should I Marry a Murderer?” a true-crime tale of a naive, vulnerable woman and her cold-hearted fiancé. It’s easy to see why the series is now among the platform’s top 10 most-watched shows, but its popularity may not be for the reasons you’d expect.

'Should I Marry a Murderer?' is edge-of-your-seat true crime

“Should I Marry a Murderer?” has all the makings of a gripping true-crime drama wrapped inside a deeply toxic love story.

Dr. Caroline Muirhead, head over heels in love, learns that her fiancé, Alexander “Sandy” McKellar, was involved in a fatal hit-and-run crash with a cyclist years before they met. McKellar confesses that instead of calling police, he and his twin brother, Robert, buried the man on their farm, the Auch Estate. Later, McKellar reveals an even darker truth: The victim was still alive after the collision.

Muirhead soon discovers the man was Tony Parsons, a cancer survivor participating in a charity bike ride when he seemingly vanished without a trace. After weeks of agonizing, Muirhead contacts law enforcement.

Though the twins are initially arrested and released due to insufficient evidence, Scottish police spend the next year building a murder case against them.

During that time, Muirhead struggles to break free from McKellar’s grip. She continues living with her fiancé while spiraling into drug and alcohol abuse, caught between her moral instincts and the psychological turmoil of their increasingly toxic relationship. Ultimately, secret recordings of McKellar’s chilling confessions become crucial evidence against him.

By the time the trial arrives, Muirhead is so deeply consumed by mental health struggles and substance abuse that she is unable to testify against McKellar, forcing prosecutors to offer plea deals that the twins ultimately accept.

McKellar pleads guilty to the lesser charge of culpable homicide, while both Sandy and Robert McKellar plead guilty to attempting to pervert the course of justice. Sandy is sentenced to 12 years in prison; Robert receives five years and three months.

Director Josh Allott summed up Muirhead’s impossible predicament this way:

"Her dilemma is so unimaginable, but it’s also one that’s impossible not to hypothesize in your own relationship. The person you’ve just said you’ll spend the rest of your life with tells you that they have a terrible secret. Do you choose to keep that secret and live with the awful consequences, or reveal it, and destroy the person you love and everything you’ve hoped for?" 

I appreciate the film’s provocative title, which suggests Muirhead is immediately confronted with an impossible choice: Marry her Prince Charming or turn Sandy over to law enforcement.

But spoiler alert: She doesn't really struggle to answer that question.

Most people, thankfully, will never face such an extreme dilemma.

Netflix series is a chilling lesson in toxic relationship dynamics

The cover-up of how Parsons was killed is undeniably tragic. Yet like many Netflix true-crime docuseries, the victim’s family and the pursuit of justice can sometimes feel secondary to the audience’s fascination with the crime itself.

Still, at the risk of sounding callous, what makes this series especially compelling is how thoroughly it is littered with the warning signs of a toxic relationship, giving viewers an opportunity to recognize those red flags before it’s too late.

From the start, it’s clear that Muirhead, despite being highly educated and intelligent, struggles with self-worth. Having just exited an abusive relationship, she quickly rebounds with a man who love bombs her, a classic entry point into deeply dysfunctional dynamics.

Even after McKellar admits to hitting Parsons with his vehicle, refusing to call for help and later burying the body, Muirhead still struggles to sever ties with the man she loves and leave an obviously destructive relationship, a classic hallmark of trauma bonding.

McKellar’s behavior also reveals multiple red flags: He is charming, pressures Muirhead into commitment quickly, then burdens her with a horrifying secret under the guise that she is uniquely “special.” He does all this while displaying little remorse, empathy or moral conscience, more classic tells of a deeply dangerous person.

Muirhead captures this dynamic powerfully in the final episode:

“I was so broken and feeling as if no one would want to be with me. Sandy would send little photos and videos saying, 'Oh my gosh, I miss you so much.' I had handed him in and ruined his life. He should hate me. It made me feel loved and made me feel wanted. And that feeling of being treated well, when you've not been, you cling on to it so strongly. I still had that toxic draw when he would message me.”

I'm not blaming Muirhead as a victim; it's common for women to get caught up in this.

The series becomes far more than a true-crime drama. It evolves into an unsettling lesson in how easily red flags can be overlooked when charm, affection and emotional dependence cloud judgment.

Beneath the sensational elements – drugs, alcohol, exhumation, arrests and shocking plea deals – lies a much deeper story about manipulation, vulnerability and the painful difficulty of leaving someone who has embedded themselves in your life.

The central question posed by Netflix’s “Should I Marry a Murderer?” may not actually be whether Muirhead should have turned her fiancé in. For most viewers, that answer is obvious.

The more relevant question is how people can recognize toxic relational dynamics before they become trapped inside them.

Muirhead’s eventual recovery offers a hopeful conclusion. Now sober and thriving in a healthy relationship, she leaves viewers with perhaps the documentary’s most important takeaway: “When you love yourself, then you will attract healthy love.”

Nicole Russell is an opinion columnist with USA TODAY. She lives in Texas with her four kids. Sign up for her newsletter, The Right Track, and get it delivered to your inbox.