In the quiet college town of Moscow, Idaho, the aftershocks of a brutal crime continue to reverberate nearly three years after the slayings of four University of Idaho students. The case, which drew global attention, has not only left families and friends grappling with unimaginable loss but also sparked a heated legal and ethical debate over victims’ privacy and the public’s right to know.
The story begins months before the murders, on June 30, 2022, in Pullman, Washington. According to legal documents reported by OK! Magazine, Bryan Kohberger, then a graduate student, checked into a local hotel after booking a room through Expedia. What should have been a routine transaction quickly escalated when Kohberger, believing he had been overcharged, lost his temper with a female hotel clerk who was still in training. The police report describes how Kohberger became “really upset” but, once the employee resolved the issue, suddenly became “nice” and even flirted with her. The following day, the employee encountered Kohberger again in a hotel hallway. Their brief conversation took an unsettling turn, focusing on “sheaths and collecting knives,” as well as “self-defense weapons and knife collections.”
It’s a chilling detail in hindsight. Just months later, in the early hours of November 13, 2022, Kohberger would use a knife to murder four University of Idaho students—Ethan Chapin, 20; Kaylee Goncalves, 21; Xana Kernodle, 20; and Madison Mogen, 21—at their off-campus rental home. The killings stunned the Moscow community and quickly became a national obsession, with law enforcement agencies receiving hundreds of requests for records and updates as the investigation unfolded.
For weeks, the identity of the murderer remained a mystery. But as Judge Steven Hippler later recounted during sentencing, “Who committed this unspeakable evil was unknown for several weeks, but due to the killer’s incompetence and outstanding police work, Kohberger was caught and now stands before the world and this court, unmasked.” The judge did not mince words, describing the crimes as “an unfathomable and senseless act of evil” that caused “immeasurable pain and loss.” He added, “No parent should ever have to bury their child. This is the greatest tragedy that can be inflicted upon a person.”
When Kohberger finally confessed to the murders in July 2025—just weeks before his trial was set to begin—he did so in a plea deal to avoid the death penalty. He pleaded guilty to all counts and, in August, was sentenced to four consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. Judge Hippler expressed hope that the sentence would bring some measure of closure to the families. “The time has now come to end Mr. Kohberger’s 15 minutes of fame,” he declared, as the victims’ loved ones sat in the courtroom, many overcome with emotion. Yet, as the judge and families well know, closure remains elusive.
That sense of ongoing pain has been compounded by the public release of crime scene photos and videos following Kohberger’s sentencing. According to the Associated Press, Idaho law typically allows for the sealing of investigation records to be lifted once a criminal investigation is complete. After the sentencing, the city of Moscow responded to a public records request by releasing photos and videos taken by law enforcement at the crime scene. Although the images were blurred to obscure the bodies and faces of the victims and witnesses, they still showed blood on the floors and walls, and the videos included the sounds of sobbing friends and roommates.
The release of these materials has reignited the trauma for the victims’ families. On August 28, 2025, relatives of Madison Mogen and Ethan Chapin formally asked 2nd District Judge Megan Marshall to prevent the release of further graphic crime scene images and videos. In court documents, Ethan’s mother, Stacy Chapin, described the images as “heartbreaking” and said they “continue to reopen a wound that has yet to heal.” She wrote, “They are heartbreaking and continue to reopen a wound that has yet to heal.”
Leander James, an attorney representing family members of Mogen and Chapin, argued in court that the city’s efforts to blur the images were insufficient. “Blurring is not redacting,” James told the judge, insisting that the blood should also have been hidden from public view and that the sounds of distress should have been muted. He urged the judge to consider how “incredibly harmful and emotionally damaging it is for her to see images of her son and the other victims. They’re in there, they’re just blurred—they’re harder to see.”
James also criticized what he called the “commodification” of the killings by the true crime industry, arguing that the rapid, worldwide dissemination of such images victimizes the families all over again. “Images like this are disseminated within an instant, worldwide,” he said, lamenting the economic gain and misuse by those obsessed with crime stories.
On the other side of the courtroom, Andrew Pluskal, an attorney representing the city of Moscow, explained that the city was legally required to release the images under the Idaho Public Records Act. Pluskal said the city carefully considered what to redact, using the “balancing test” outlined in state law to weigh the victims’ right to privacy against the public’s right to know. “If there were options allowed in statute that allowed these records to be fired into the sun, the city would do it,” Pluskal told Judge Marshall, describing the images as “harrowing.” He added, “The city is in the middle here—the city is going to get it from either side.”
Judge Marshall acknowledged the difficult position and said she would consider arguments from both sides before issuing a ruling at a later date. The case has highlighted the tension between transparency and compassion—a dilemma that is hardly unique to Moscow, Idaho. Across the United States, families of crime victims have increasingly called for greater sensitivity in the handling of graphic materials, while advocates for open records maintain that public scrutiny is essential for accountability, especially in cases involving law enforcement.
Meanwhile, questions about Kohberger’s motive remain unanswered. Despite his guilty plea and sentencing, he never revealed why he carried out the attacks. The lack of explanation only deepens the anguish for those left behind. Judge Hippler’s words continue to echo: “Parents who took their children to college in a truck filled with moving boxes had to bring them home in hearses lined with coffins.”
As the legal battle over the crime scene images plays out, the families of Kaylee Goncalves, Madison Mogen, Xana Kernodle, and Ethan Chapin are left to navigate a world forever altered by violence, privacy struggles, and the relentless gaze of public attention. The scars of that November morning—and the debate over how much the world should see—remain painfully fresh.
