True Crime Tuesdays: The Man Who Murdered His Family
Review Overview
Victim representation
0Perpetrator pandering
5Pushback
2Helen Archer | On 03, Jun 2025
The Man Who Murdered his Family – released last year under the title Ctrl+Alt+Desire on Paramount Plus in the USA – has made it to the UK on BBC iPlayer. The three-part series, directed by Colin Archdeacon, tells the story of Grant Amato, who in 2019 killed his mother, father and brother in the family home in Chuluota, Florida. His trial proved insatiable tabloid fodder after it was revealed that his motive in doing so seemed to be his expensive addiction to a Bulgarian cam girl. Having stolen around $200,000 from his family by fraudulently obtaining credit under their name, he murdered them in an apparent effort to continue to speak to her.
The series is grimly disturbing, with emphasis on the ‘grim’. Far from what we expect from a true crime series in this day and age, it breaks every unwritten rule of the genre. Filmed over the course of four years, Archdeacon spent this time mainly, it seems, interviewing Amato over FaceTime, building a ‘relationship’ with him leading up to his application for appeal, after being found guilty and receiving a sentence of life without parole. Some footage, we are told, is taken by Grant himself with an illegally obtained phone from inside prison.
This allows Grant to control the narrative, with little to no pushback. His smirking straight-to-camera interviews – he clearly relishes the attention – are intercut briefly with interviews with a couple of journalists and lawyers, but also with titillating shots of cam girls who explain concepts such as the ‘girlfriend experience’, while getting titivated for their own sessions. On one occasion, a woman reclines on a bed while having an intimate conversation with one of her clients. Presumably, this is to demonstrate how the lines can blur for people who pay for intimacy. In the meantime, Archdeacon goes to great lengths, throughout the documentary – and much to Grant’s satisfaction – of tracking down Sylvie, the woman he was obsessed with.
And yet there are far more interesting strands of this sordid tale, some of which are explored – though without much depth – and some which are ignored completely. Grant’s nascent sociopathy was evident long before he ‘met’ Sylvie. By his own admission, he was expelled from his nurse anaesthetist course some time before the murders, after an argument over how much anaesthetic he was administering during an epidural. Amato glosses over this, but not much later, in June 2018, he would be fired from his nursing position for stealing drugs and using them on patients during his night shifts in order to have some peace and quiet. This is not probed or investigated by the filmmaker any further that Grant’s own casual version of it, which is disturbing enough.
In a similar vein, his deteriorating relationship with his family, brought on by his own failures in life, is told purely through his lens. Describing his brother Cody as the ‘love of his life’, someone he planned to do everything with, is creepy enough from his own mouth, but his brother’s perspective – be it from his own friends, or even remaining family members – is conspicuous by its absence. It is clear Grant felt ‘left behind’ by his brother’s success in the very field that Grant was kicked out of, and – as the family lived under the same roof – the schism in their lives became ever deeper. Their father, too, is portrayed as a ‘hard-ass’ during the course of the series, though frankly many viewers will find his reaction to his retirement fund being stolen by his son to be, if anything, excessively lenient.
What is explored, towards the end, albeit in a rather shallow manner, is the ‘incel’-like community Grant formed with the other purveyors of Sylvie’s cam room, and the deep real-life loneliness that a digital ‘alternate reality’ can assuage. And yet Grant’s vision of himself – as having a true, deep relationship with Sylvie, as a ‘white knight’ who would somehow win her affection – apparently remains intact, years into his sentence. He can hardly contain his delight when Archdeacon tells him that he has finally tracked her down. Despite her refusal to participate in the documentary, it is confirmation, to Grant, that he has had an everlasting impact in her life, which he sees as a net positive.
But there is no net positive to this series, other than pander to Grant’s personality disorders. It is, in fact, very probable that a programme like this will only serve to exacerbate the suffering of those affected, while simultaneously giving Grant – in his mind – an opportunity to redeem his image. There are many criticisms of true crime as a genre – by now, most know how to sidestep the well-known pitfalls. Archdeacon’s project may yet serve as a shining example in how not to execute it.