It stays with you. Some movies you watch and forget by the time the credits crawl to the top of the screen, but the Audrie & Daisy documentary isn't one of them. It’s heavy. It’s visceral. Honestly, it’s the kind of film that makes you want to throw your phone across the room because of how much it reveals about the ugly side of digital culture.
Directed by Bonni Cohen and Jon Shenk, this 2016 Sundance hit didn't just tell a story about crime. It told a story about what happens after the crime—the part where the internet turns into a weapon. We're talking about two girls, Audrie Pott and Daisy Coleman, living in different states, who went through eerily similar nightmares.
They were both sexually assaulted by people they thought were friends. But the assault was just the beginning. The real "documentary" part of this story is the systemic failure of small-town justice and the brutal, relentless bullying that followed on social media. It's a snapshot of a moment in time that, unfortunately, feels even more relevant today than it did ten years ago.
The Tragic Parallel of Audrie Pott and Daisy Coleman
The film weaves two narratives together, and the contrast is devastating. Audrie Pott was a 15-year-old in Saratoga, California. She was a bright, popular student who went to a party in 2012. While she was unconscious, three boys she knew assaulted her and took photos. They shared those photos. They mocked her. Eight days later, Audrie took her own life. She couldn't handle the shame that wasn't hers to carry.
Then you have Daisy Coleman in Maryville, Missouri. Her story happened in 2011. She was 14. She survived her assault, but in many ways, the town made sure she suffered for surviving. The Audrie & Daisy documentary shows how the Coleman family was basically driven out of their home. People called Daisy a liar. They harassed her family. Her house even burned down under suspicious circumstances.
It’s a lot to take in. You see these two families—the Potts and the Colemans—navigating a world that seems stacked against them. The filmmakers didn't just interview the victims; they got the boys involved too. Seeing the perspective of the perpetrators, who often seemed clueless or indifferent to the gravity of what they'd done, adds a layer of complexity that makes your blood boil. It highlights a massive gap in how we teach consent and empathy to teenagers.
Social Media as a Tool for Terror
What makes this film a quintessential piece of "internet age" media is how it portrays the smartphone. In the Audrie & Daisy documentary, the phone isn't just a communication device; it’s a crime scene.
Think about it. In the past, if something happened at a party, it stayed in that room, or maybe it became a rumor. Now? It’s captured in 4K. It’s texted to the entire sophomore class before the sun comes up. It’s posted on Facebook (which was the big one back then) or Snapchat. The permanence of the digital evidence meant Audrie and Daisy could never escape the worst night of their lives. Every time they looked at a screen, they were re-traumatized.
The documentary captures the "bystander effect" on steroids. It shows how dozens of kids saw the photos, knew what happened, and either laughed or stayed silent. That silence is deafening. It forces the viewer to look at their own digital habits. How often do we hit "like" on something mean without thinking? How often do we stay quiet when we see someone being piled on?
The Legal System's Failure and the "Good Ol' Boys" Club
Let’s talk about Maryville. The film spends a significant amount of time looking at the legal fallout in Daisy's case. The charges against her primary attacker, who had ties to a prominent local family, were eventually dropped. It felt like a classic case of small-town politics protecting its own.
The Audrie & Daisy documentary exposes the flaws in how sexual assault is investigated. Often, the police and the community focus more on the "reputations" of the young men involved than the physical and emotional trauma of the victims. There’s a scene where the community’s reaction is just… baffling. People were more upset that the football team’s season might be ruined than they were about a 14-year-old girl being left on her porch in freezing temperatures.
This isn't just an American problem, but the film makes it feel deeply American. It taps into that specific brand of suburban and rural culture where "shame" is the ultimate currency. If you're the one who brings "shame" to the town by reporting a crime, you become the villain.
Why We Are Still Talking About This Today
Daisy Coleman’s story didn't end when the cameras stopped rolling. Tragically, Daisy passed away by suicide in 2020. Her death reignited interest in the documentary and brought a renewed sense of urgency to the conversation about mental health and the long-term effects of trauma.
When you watch the Audrie & Daisy documentary now, it feels like a precursor to the #MeToo movement. It was one of the first major pieces of media to really nail the intersection of sexual violence and digital harassment. It paved the way for other documentaries and shows to take these subjects seriously.
However, looking back, it's also a reminder of how little has changed in some ways. Cyberbullying is arguably worse now with the rise of anonymous apps and more sophisticated deepfake technology. The "script" for how victims are treated online hasn't really been rewritten; it's just been updated for newer platforms.
Beyond the Tragedy: The Fight for Change
It’s not all darkness, though. The film does show the incredible resilience of the families. Audrie’s parents, Lawrence and Sheila Pott, became advocates. They pushed for "Audrie’s Law" in California, which sought to increase penalties for minors who commit sexual assault and distribute photos of it.
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This is the "actionable" part of the story. The documentary serves as a massive wake-up call for parents and educators. It’s not enough to tell kids "don't bully." You have to talk about the specifics of digital consent. You have to talk about what it means to be an upstander rather than a bystander.
Practical Steps for Change
If you've watched the film or are planning to, don't just sit with the sadness. Use it as a catalyst for actual conversations.
- Check your local laws: Do you know how your state handles "revenge porn" or the non-consensual sharing of intimate images? Many states have updated their statutes because of cases like these.
- Talk to your kids about digital footprints: It's not just about "stranger danger" anymore. It's about how they treat their peers. Explain that once a photo is sent, it’s out of their control forever.
- Support survivors: Organizations like SafeBae, which was actually co-founded by Daisy Coleman and other survivors, focus on preventing sexual assault in middle and high schools. They provide resources that schools often lack.
- Demand better school policies: Many schools are still ill-equipped to handle cyberbullying that happens off-campus but affects the learning environment. Pressure school boards to implement clear, victim-centered protocols.
The Audrie & Daisy documentary is a hard watch. It’s gut-wrenching. But it’s necessary because it strips away the excuses. It shows that these aren't just "kids being kids" or "misunderstandings." These are life-altering events fueled by a culture that often prefers a convenient lie over an uncomfortable truth.
If we want to honor Audrie and Daisy, we have to stop looking away. We have to be willing to have the awkward, painful conversations about consent, accountability, and the power we hold in our pockets every single day.
The credits might end, but the responsibility to do better doesn't. Watch the film. Feel the anger. Then go do something with it. Whether that’s checking in on a friend who seems isolated or advocating for better education in your local district, every bit of friction against this "shame culture" matters.
Next Steps to Take:
- Visit the SafeBae official website to access peer-to-peer training modules for middle and high school students.
- Review the Audrie's Law (SB 592) specifics to understand how digital evidence affects sentencing in juvenile court.
- Use the documentary as a guided viewing tool for high-school-aged children to facilitate discussions on "consent vs. compliance."