US police departments harness podcasts to solve cold cases and murder investigations

Chelsea Yasser, 21, was fatally stabbed in 2016; Karen Schepers was missing for over 40 years before her remains were recovered.
They'd say, like, 'Oh, my mom worked with this person'
Detectives discovered that social media listeners provided investigative leads while discussing the podcast episodes.
Mark

Why did police departments wait so long to try this? True crime podcasts have been popular for over a decade.

Mimi

They didn't know it would work. Podcasting felt like entertainment, not investigation. It took someone like Jennifer Manzella in Newport Beach to treat it seriously—to produce something that was both engaging and investigative—before other departments saw the potential.

Mark

But doesn't putting a case on a podcast risk contaminating the investigation with false tips and bad information?

Mimi

It does. That's why the police version is different from the Serial model. Police control the narrative. They decide what details to share, what to hold back, what new forensic developments to announce. It's not journalism; it's a strategic communication tool.

Mark

Andrew Houghton seemed reluctant at first. What changed his mind?

Mimi

The work itself changed it. Once he started structuring the podcast, he realized it was forcing him and his partner to think differently about the case. Each theory became an episode. That structure helped them see patterns they might have missed otherwise.

Mark

Karen Schepers was missing for over forty years. Why did it take a podcast to find her?

Mimi

It didn't, exactly. It took old-fashioned detective work—reading a newspaper clipping from 1999, realizing the river had never actually been searched, bringing in sonar and divers. But the podcast gave them the audience and the momentum to do that work. Someone listening might have known something. The podcast made the case visible again.

Mark

What's the real barrier to adoption now?

Mimi

Resources. Most departments are stretched thin. Producing a podcast requires time, equipment, and someone who knows how to do it. That's a luxury many departments can't afford. The ones doing it are either well-funded or have officers willing to take it on as extra work.

  • Cold cases that had resisted every conventional approach are now being cracked open by the simple act of telling their stories to millions of podcast listeners.
  • Police departments face real friction — limited budgets, legal liability over presumption of innocence, and the sheer staffing burden of producing regular audio content.
  • The Chelsea Yasser case shows the dual-track tension: a podcast generating thousands of downloads and live tips while forensic genealogy technology races alongside it toward the same answer.
  • The Elgin detectives' experience reveals an unexpected benefit — structuring a podcast forced them to reorganize their own thinking, and a listener comment thread led them back to a river search that had never actually happened.
  • Experts and retired investigators believe adoption will accelerate as younger, digitally native officers enter the field and departments recognize podcasting as both an investigative and a recruitment asset.

Across the United States, police departments are learning that the public's hunger for true crime storytelling can be redirected toward justice — not merely consumed as entertainment. By producing their own podcasts, investigators are reaching audiences that traditional press releases and news broadcasts never could, turning passive listeners into active witnesses. The results, from a fugitive captured in Mexico to remains recovered from a river after four decades, suggest that the oldest investigative resource — human memory and community knowledge — can be unlocked by new means. It is a reminder that solving the mysteries of the past sometimes requires speaking in the language of the present.

When California police decided to podcast the story of Peter Chadwick — a man wanted for his wife's murder who had been living under a false identity in Mexico for nearly four years — they were gambling that public attention could do what conventional investigation had not. Ten months and twenty days after the Newport Beach Police Department launched the episode, Chadwick was in custody. It was not the last time the gamble would pay off.

In Illinois, the Elgin Police Department released an episode about Karen Schepers, missing for more than forty years. Within weeks, her remains were recovered from the bottom of a river, still inside her car. This summer, the Aurora Police Department in Colorado launched a podcast seeking justice for Chelsea Yasser, a twenty-one-year-old stabbed to death in a shopping center parking lot in 2016. Security footage had captured the assault but not the assailant. DNA from under her fingernails matched no one in any database. The case had gone cold. By the end of July, the podcast had been downloaded over seven thousand times and produced several tips, including one still being actively pursued alongside new forensic genealogy testing.

The appeal of the medium is not mysterious. True crime content commands enormous audiences, and a podcast — unlike a single news broadcast — can be discovered, shared, and replayed indefinitely. Aurora's public information officer Joe Moylan described the strategy plainly: they wanted to tap into a broader audience than traditional media could reach, and they wanted to control the accuracy of what that audience heard.

The approach is not without friction. When Newport Beach introduced Chadwick as a man who killed his wife — without the word 'alleged' — critics argued that police had no business adjudicating guilt before a verdict. The producing officer defended it as a storytelling balance. After Chadwick's eventual guilty plea, she acknowledged the podcast may not have directly caused his capture, but it created pressure that made him more prone to errors — and the awareness it generated allowed investigators to move on warrants and extraditions with unusual speed.

Detective Andrew Houghton of Elgin's cold case unit was openly skeptical when told his team would also be podcasting. But as he and his partner structured their episodes, they found the format was reorganizing their investigation. Listener comments surfaced neighborhood memories and personal connections. Most critically, the detectives noticed a decades-old newspaper article referencing a river search that, on closer examination, had never actually taken place. They brought in sonar technology and divers. In March 2025, they found Karen Schepers.

Most departments still lack the resources, and many fear legal exposure. But retired NYPD detective and John Jay professor Michael Alcazar believes the trend is inevitable — that younger officers, for whom podcasting is simply part of the world, will carry it forward. If departments can sustain the effort, the medium may do more than solve cases: it may show the public, in officers' own voices, what the work of justice actually looks like.

Peter Chadwick had been living under an assumed identity in Mexico for nearly four years when California police decided to tell his story to the world. He was wanted for murdering his wife in October 2012, but he had never stood trial. In June 2018, the Newport Beach Police Department launched a podcast about the case. Ten months and twenty days later, Chadwick was in custody.

That success was not an outlier. In Illinois, when the Elgin Police Department released their first podcast episode about Karen Schepers—a woman who had vanished more than forty years earlier—her remains surfaced within weeks at the bottom of a river, still in her car. This summer, the Aurora Police Department in Colorado joined the trend, launching their own podcast to pursue justice for Chelsea Yasser, a twenty-one-year-old stabbed to death in a shopping center parking lot in 2016, a case that has eluded investigators for a decade.

Across the United States and beyond, police departments are discovering that podcasts—a medium most people associate with entertainment and true crime storytelling—can be a legitimate investigative tool. The appeal is straightforward: true crime content has become enormously popular, and police departments want to harness that appetite for attention and channel it toward solving cases. "We were deliberate in trying to tap into that broader audience," says Joe Moylan, the Aurora Police Department's public information officer. Unlike a news broadcast that airs once and vanishes, or a newspaper article that reaches only those who happen to read it, a podcast can be downloaded and listened to repeatedly, shared among friends, and discovered by people who had no idea the case existed.

The Chelsea Yasser investigation illustrates both the promise and the mechanics of this approach. She was stabbed after climbing into a minivan in a parking lot; she collapsed moments after exiting the vehicle. Security footage captured the van rocking during the assault, but the image quality was too poor to identify anyone. DNA recovered from under her fingernails matched no one in any database. The case had stalled. When the Aurora Police Department released their podcast in June, they were simultaneously testing that DNA using new forensic genealogy technology—a development they shared with listeners. The podcast had been downloaded 7,184 times by the end of July and had generated several tips, including one that investigators continue to pursue.

But the approach carries complications. When the Newport Beach Police Department produced their podcast about Peter Chadwick, they introduced him as "a man who killed his wife"—without using the word "alleged." Chadwick had been charged and had pleaded not guilty, but he had never been convicted. Critics argued that the podcast violated the presumption of innocence and that police should investigate, not adjudicate. Jennifer Manzella, the officer who produced and hosted the podcast, defended the choice as a balance between telling an engaging story and protecting the investigation. After Chadwick's capture in August 2019, he pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and was sentenced to fifteen years to life. Manzella later acknowledged that the podcast itself may not have directly led to his capture, but it created pressure that made him more likely to make mistakes. The podcast reached number twenty-four on the iTunes chart, and the awareness it generated allowed investigators to obtain warrants and extraditions in record time.

When Detective Andrew Houghton at the Elgin Police Department learned that his new cold case unit would also be producing a podcast, he was skeptical. "Why are we adding something else new on top of that?" he recalls thinking. But as he and his partner, Detective Matthew Vartarian, began structuring episodes for their 2025 podcast, "Somebody Knows Something," they discovered that the process was actually helping them organize their investigation. Different theories about what happened to Karen Schepers naturally formed separate episodes. The podcast generated tips, but it also gave the detectives a new way to find leads—they began reading social media comments from listeners who remembered details about the neighborhood or had personal connections to people involved. The detectives ultimately solved the case through traditional police work: they found a decades-old newspaper article mentioning that police had searched salvage yards by helicopter and dragged the Fox River, but they discovered no evidence that the river search had actually occurred. They brought in a search company with sonar technology and divers, and in March 2025, they found Karen Schepers and her car at the bottom of the river.

Most police departments lack the staff, budget, equipment, or expertise to produce podcasts. Others hesitate because of concerns about lawsuits and civil liability. Yet experts believe the trend will accelerate. Michael Alcazar, a retired NYPD detective and adjunct professor at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, says that podcasting is a tool "that everyone will eventually embrace." Younger officers, he suggests, will be more comfortable with the medium because it is native to their world. And if departments can sustain the effort, podcasting may help with recruitment and retention by showing the public what police work actually entails, told by working officers themselves.

We were deliberate in trying to tap into that broader audience.
— Joe Moylan, Aurora Police Department public information officer
It's a tool that everyone will eventually embrace.
— Michael Alcazar, retired NYPD detective and adjunct professor
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