“I’m a huge procrastinator. I’m trying to get better, but I think it might be too late for me,” Sarah Koenig admitted with a laugh. This confession would be difficult for an outsider to glean given Koenig’s pervasive influence on and involvement in the world of journalism—more specifically, audio-based journalism. In the fall of 2014, a podcast called “Serial,” which was co-created and co-produced by Koenig and fellow journalist Julie Snyder, echoed through millions of wired earbuds and dominated countless Reddit threads. The first season, which was also the first podcast to win a Peabody Award, investigated the 1999 murder of high school student Hae Min Lee and its potential suspects, including Adnan Syed, who, at the time of the podcast’s creation, was in prison for the crime. Something about the story, which Koenig described as a “Shakespearean mashup” of forbidden lovers and honor besmirched, clicked with listeners.
Since then, Koenig has produced three more seasons of the podcast, dedicated listeners in tow. “It’s weird. [The podcast’s success] hasn’t changed the way I work that much. I wasn’t on social media then, and I’m not on social media now,” Koenig explained in an interview with The Miscellany News. “Like, I just don’t look at it.” Other journalists in Koenig’s position might not approach the podcast’s immediate, intense traction with such nonchalance. But Koenig worries less about recreating the magic of that initial sonic-boom of listenership in 2014 and more about continually presenting engaging, thoughtful stories. Given her aptitude for storytelling, Koenig spoke at the 2025 Alex Krieger ’95 Memorial Lecture on Feb. 27 in conversation with Adjunct Professor of Multidisciplinary Studies and Director of Women, Feminist, and Queer Studies on the Pittsburgh Chair in the Humanities Professor Paulina Bren. Each year, the lecture honors Kreiger’s legacy and his love for American writing, specifically that which incorporates humor.
Koenig is unassuming, down-to-earth and warm in a way you might not expect from an acclaimed journalist. She has a wide, bright smile that puts you at ease, and does not hesitate to make direct eye contact. She wears mustard yellow socks with silver Adidas, which I complimented her on. Koenig later explained she found the shoes on the side of the street in Boston. In the first few seconds of meeting me, Koenig asked if she was pronouncing my name correctly; this is the same question, or perhaps act of care, she immediately asked Rabia Chaudry—the woman who initially made Koenig aware of Adnan Syed and his potentially mishandled case—in the first episode of “Serial,” entitled “The Alibi.”
Like finding her silver Adidas, in some ways Koenig unintentionally stumbled upon the true crime podcasting genre. Prior to the creation of “Serial,” Koenig was a producer at the public radio program and podcast “This American Life.” After working in print journalism for years, Koenig shared that she was struck by the “different kind of fun” audio-based journalism provides. “A whole ocean of structural possibilities opened up to me,” Koenig recalled.
Although she was familiar with audio as a medium and its storytelling possibilities, Koenig was unfamiliar with the ins and outs of true crime—the genre now used to categorize each season of “Serial”—when she began researching Syed’s case. “It was only until ‘Serial’ was done that I was like, wait, what’s true crime?” Koenig exclaimed with a laugh to Bren during their conversation. “It’s like when you’re learning a new word or searching for a new pair of shoes, and suddenly you see them everywhere. I don’t know if that was because of us or I was just dialed in.” Now, when navigating to the Wikipedia page for the term “true crime,” a picture of Koenig and her signature oversized glasses accompanies the podcast subsection.
Although true crime as a genre is undoubtedly having a moment—or has been having a moment since Hae Min Lee’s story first caught our collective attention more than a decade ago—Koenig is not sure if its popularity is because of the current, fearful moment we are living in. When Bren suggested this, Koenig cocked her head and politely replied that she disagreed. Koenig’s ability to concretely yet sincerely express her differing opinions makes her so approachable—by affirming or objecting to others’ postulations, Koenig shows she is truly, deeply considering each word. After a pause, Koenig continued: “Trials are so inherently dramatic. I think we are interested [in true crime] because we are looking for a good story.”
Koenig’s commitment to hunting down these good stories for each season of “Serial” has transported her from the open courtrooms of Cleveland, Ohio to the inaccessible Guantánamo Bay. The places she works in vary greatly; her journalistic process is similarly in flux: “season three, for example, we spent a little more than a year reporting from a courthouse in Cleveland. And we were doing a bunch of stories that were threaded through that building, and the reporting of that was very intensely scene heavy. That process of reporting was super different from the Guantánamo one I just did. Or, season two where it was about Beau Bergdahl, and that was all based on tape we already had, and almost all of the reporting was done remotely. The reporting is so different based on the story.” It might be tempting to settle into a comfortable routine after having found such success, but Koenig seems to actively resist sameness and comfort alike.
This resistance does not mean, however, that Koenig over-indulges in the inherent drama of tragedy. In fact, doing so would be antithetical to her goal of presenting a good story. “When we do stories that involve horrible violence, I don’t do any further details than I have to share to understand the story,” Koenig explained to Bren as they discussed the ethics of true crime. Koenig’s full attention was locked on Bren; her dark slacks contrasted with the bright yellow upholstery of the chair she sat on. She looked serious, but sincere. Professional yet empathetic. Koenig is willing to do what many people today are not: listen.
Perhaps this ability, this consistent self-restraint is what allows her to so effectively get to the meat of the story. Koenig observes that in the whole life cycle of the criminal justice system, conversations with reporters are among the first moments the accused are able to speak: “The system is not set up for [the accused] to talk. So, sometimes when they speak to a reporter, it’s the first time you can connect with someone.” These people and their experiences can provide a sense of humanity and reality amid the mechanical proceedings of the courtroom; they can also connect journalists to a web of other friends and family willing to share their stories. “There’s always someone in the story who holds the heart of the story. And we’re always trying to find the moments that carry the story, and sometimes those moments can be very small,” Koenig emphasized. Sometimes these moments are tiny puzzles and little epiphanies about the case, details that make the listener think.
Other times, these small details are more slippery, vague and unsuspectingly uplifting. Strange moments of lightness that might initially appear out of place, but somehow perfectly fit in the story Koenig is crafting. “You have to understand the tone of the thing you’re doing. But it doesn’t mean just because something is really sad that you can’t have moments of joy in it, both as a reporter and person,” Koenig noted. “Often the people I’m interviewing are the ones who are cracking jokes or laughing, often about the most horrible things. I just think [finding moments of joy] is a very human thing to do, and to seek. And so I guess I don’t shy away from it. It’s not that I’m actively going for those moments, but if they come up I let them be.”
Sarah Koenig regularly finds herself in the midst of incomprehensible tragedy. She finds herself among real people who have endured immense loss and hurt—those who have been accused or tortured, but also their relatives, friends and partners. This weighs on her: “And not that this stuff doesn’t sometimes get to me, actually, because sometimes it is really sad or upsetting. But I’m not there to channel someone else’s pain. I’m there to help that story come alive, so I am going to do that however it makes sense to me. But I mean I also will just say, I like to have a good time. And so, I am not going to pass up a moment of joy if I can find it in the horrible hell that we live in. It just feels like, why would you do that?”
Koenig honors these people’s pain. She honors their humanity, too.
I am Sarah’s mother and therefore am unable to comment, unless being immensely proud counts.
Sincerely,
Maria matthiessen
Sarah tells a story less than she facilitates it, allowing the subject and the well researched facts tell the story. I admire her willingness, as a journalist and story-um, guide (i.e. journalist), to take the lesser role. This new form of storytelling, however, has created a standard by which we measure other podcast journalists: To remember to be journalists. We are back to where it all started -news reporting. She is an inspiration, having saved a “dying star” by shifting it over to hthe audio galaxy and creating a new generation of news junkies who have no idea they are so hooked on the news!