The true crime series you can't believe is real

During my time as a fancy TV executive (ok, podcast executive, but TV-ADJACENT when that used to mean something), I got a lot of pitches. Good pitches, bad pitches, in-between pitches. I’ve been pitched in meeting rooms, in bars, in meeting rooms with bars; the list is pretty extensive.

And the people, oh the people!

I’ve been pitched by so many different people from so many different experiences and worlds and various levels of veracity. From the kind and the genuine to the one time I found myself sitting across a desk from two senior executives at a Las Vegas casino, all sharkskin suits and steely dead fish eyes and rings upon rings upon rings, telling me how I was missing the story of a lifetime, and I remember thinking to myself, this is, perhaps, not a pitch I say no to.

But in all those times, with all those pitches, at no point did I ever think that one of the people pitching me on an idea (especially a true crime idea) was in some way actually implicated in that idea or tied into it. For all the crazy things that happen in the magic of Hollywoodland, and there are so many, I never once looked across a table and thought, “Hm. I wonder if this person actually did this thing.”

Which is what makes Bridge of Lies so great.

As in many noir novels, a young filmmaker meets someone who tells him a story. That story is described to him as a possible movie plot. And as the plot of this movie begins to unravel in front of him, he comes to understand that it might not be quite as fictional as he initially thought.

Before I go further, a note: This program includes discussions of suicide and listener discretion is advised. If that subject is close to home, 988 gets you free, confidential help by call or text, any hour.

Here is where it starts. Slow open on: a December night in a small town on the Jersey shore, where somebody calls in an abandoned car sitting alone on a bridge. The missing driver is Sarah Stern, a nineteen year old aspiring artist who has seemingly vanished. Her friends tell investigators she might have jumped, or that she might have gone to Canada. Both theories come from people who knew her.

It is a six-part series from 20/20 and ABC Audio, hosted by Juju Chang, and the whole run is about three and three-quarter hours. I listened to it in two sittings and would have done it in one if I had a longer drive. Still no better feeling than starting a good pod, realizing you’re about to go on a journey, and knowing you’ve got the time to take it.

I refer to this as airplane quality podcast. Even perhaps middle seat airplane quality, the highest bar you can clear. But how does it earn the middle seat?

Pix Plus subscribers get Steve's pick for this week, plus three podcasts you'd never find on your own.