In the early 1990s, the trial of Erik and Lyle Menendez took the nation by storm. The brothers, accused of brutally murdering their parents, were at the center of one of the most controversial criminal cases in U.S. history.
Their defense hinged on allegations of prolonged sexual, emotional, and physical trauma and abuse by their father and mother. However, these claims were met with skepticism, overshadowed by the brutality of the crime and their affluent upbringing.
But what if they weren’t Erik and Lyle? What if they were Erica and Lyla Menendez? Their fate would likely have been different because when it comes to crime and punishment, gender matters more than we care to admit.
It’s impossible to ignore the way gender sways the public’s perception of crime and punishment. Society has a long history of viewing women through the lens of victimhood and vulnerability, often allowing for empathy where there is little for men. In the case of Erik and Lyle, their defense was rooted by the suffering bestowed upon them by their father.
However, the media and jury viewed these claims with skepticism. The skepticism fostered off the idea that men are supposed to be more resilient and capable of handling pain. But when they reach their breaking point, especially in such a violent and shocking way, society’s instinct is to punish, rather than sympathize.
Had the Menendez brothers been women, this narrative might have played out very differently. Consider the case of battered women who have killed their abusers; cases where juries have acquitted female defendants or handed down much lighter sentences, even in the face of murder. Society often sees women who kill their abusers as victims to remain the victim rather than then become the murderer. A woman who claims sexual abuse at the hands of a dominant father is likely to receive sympathy, including if her following actions involve physical retaliation.
If they were Erica and Lyla Menendez instead of Erik and Lyle, the courtroom and the world might have seen two young women trapped in a cycle of abuse, casting them as victims rather than murderers, with the public far more willing to believe their cries for justice. We have seen this in the courtroom, where female defendants are more often afforded the benefit of the doubt, their trauma seen as justifiable grounds for their actions.
In the alternate gender scenario , their defense of longtime abuse would have likely been met with more empathy. A society that views men as aggressors and women as victims would have painted these sisters as survivors of a monstrous father, driven to do the unthinkable after years of torment. Headlines would have read, “Daughters Finally Break Free from a Life of Abuse,” instead of “Spoiled Rich Boys Kill Their Parents to Get an Early Inheritance.” The focus would have shifted from greed to trauma.
Gender biases in the justice system are well-documented. Women who commit violent crimes are often portrayed as either victims of circumstance or mentally unwell, whereas men are typically viewed as inherently violent or morally corrupt. This double standard isn’t limited to the courtroom… Media coverage, public opinion, and even the sentencing phase are all colored by gender. Female offenders receive shorter prison sentences than their male counterparts for similar crimes, especially in cases involving abuse.
Let’s not forget the cultural context of the 1990s. This was a time when conversations about male victims of sexual abuse were nonexistent because people believed it couldn’t happen. Today, we’ve made strides in understanding that men, too, can suffer from abuse and trauma. But back then, society struggled to reconcile the image of two well-dressed, put-together young men with the narrative of victimhood. If they had been daughters, the abuse claims would have likely taken center stage, and the emotional toll of years of incest, manipulation, and psychological abuse would have been seen as the driving force behind the killings. It’s likely the public and the jury would have seen them as tragic figures, not calculated killers.
Moreover, studies show that women tend to receive more lenient treatment in the legal system, particularly when they claim abuse as a defense. The so-called “battered woman syndrome” defense has historically been far more successful for women than any equivalent defense for men. For the Menendez sisters, this could have been their ticket to acquittal or, at the very least, significantly reduced charges.
In the end, the case of the Menendez brothers is a tragic one, no matter how you look at it. But gender undoubtedly plays a role in how we view, prosecute, and punish those accused of crimes. If they were women, it’s likely they wouldn’t be spending the rest of their lives in prison. Instead, they might have been released, seen as victims of a cruel system rather than perpetrators of a horrific crime. Gender, in its subtle yet widespread manner, shapes the justice narrative. In the case of the Menendez brothers, their fate might have been entirely rewritten.
Would we be speaking of them as survivors today, rather than killers? It’s hard to say for sure. But it’s worth asking: If the Menendez brothers had been sisters, would they have been free?