I spent my spring break as I’m sure many others did: binge-watching. Amid countless hours consuming media purely for entertainment, I watched a documentary that particularly stood out to me, not just entertaining me but leaving me grappling with questions of morality and ethicality: “Devil in the Family: The Fall of Ruby Franke.”
The documentary follows Ruby Franke, the matriarch behind the former “8 Passengers” family vlogging YouTube channel. Founded in 2015, the channel reached around 2.5 million subscribers at its peak (2) and became the family’s primary source of income. Fans followed this “perfect” Mormon family of six children, getting parenting tips and a glimpse into their lives. However, as the documentary reveals, the reality behind the camera was far from perfect.
The first red flag appeared in 2020 when Ruby posted a video revealing that her eldest son had been forced to sleep on a beanbag for seven months after his “bedroom privileges” had been revoked. Despite swift backlash, the family continued to post content. The documentary follows the gradual downfall of the channel as more and more instances of overly harsh punishment, poor treatment and emotional manipulation of the children — sending their son to a wilderness camp, taking Christmas presents away from the two youngest children and more — were seen by their subscribers.
The real turning point came in 2023 when Ruby Franke was arrested for child abuse alongside her family therapist Jodi Hildebrandt. Two of the Franke children were found malnourished and showed signs of previously being tied up in what Ruby believed was an exorcism to rid them of “evil spirits.”
The oldest Franke child, Shari, was the first to question their family vlogging dynamic, realizing they operated more like a business than a family. Ruby, the de facto “CEO,” focused solely on monetization. Shari has spoken out about how her mother offered her monetized incentives to participate in videos: “It was like a business. She was the CEO and I was the employee.” However, this business model did not always entail positive interactions. On one occasion Ruby offered Shari $100 to be her “guinea pig” while promoting new eyebrow waxing strips. Ruby botched the procedure and the video went viral, but Ruby failed to pay Shari the money she was promised.
This incident highlights the risks of a business model built by the illusion of familial authenticity, treating family relationships as transactional and demonstrating that personal promises and responsibilities can be easily falsely conflated or overlooked.
Shari’s attempt to build her own YouTube channel was also affected by this blurred boundary between family and business. Despite Ruby’s initial refusal to help the channel grow, once it became profitable she moved in, taking 10 percent of Shari’s earnings for herself as “management fees.” This move demonstrates the exploitative side of the family business model, where a parent’s personal financial interests overshadow their parenting methods.
There is also a darker side of the business itself. Shari was often paid more for videos with sensitive topics, such as puberty, which garnered the most engagement. One video chronicled Shari and her younger sisters going bra shopping, a profoundly personal experience that did not need to be shared with the world.
At the heart of the issue, Shari realized that neither she nor her siblings were old enough or informed enough to fully consent to these videos. This exploitation underscores the ethical challenges of the family vlogger industry, where profit often trumps privacy.
Though the story of “8 Passengers” is an extreme case — likely fueled more by Ruby’s personal abusive tendencies than the channel itself — the ethical concerns surrounding family vlogging are widespread. In 2019, a Pew Research Center study found that videos featuring a young child “had on average three times as many views as videos that did not feature a young child,” contributing to the appeal of this industry. This presents a serious ethical dilemma: family vlogging profits off the personal lives of children who are often too young to give informed consent, all while subjecting them to invasive scrutiny and often harmful exploitation.
For years, children in family vlogs have been exploited because they fall into a legal gray area. The United States has protected child actors through child labor laws limiting their working hours, ensuring their education and protecting their earnings. However, children who appear in family vlogs lack such protection, allowing this exploitation to go unchecked. While the public is familiar with the longstanding issue of child stars being pushed to the brink by parents seeking fame and money — think the Sprouse brothers or Jennette McCurdy — family vlogging represents a new, unprecedented form of exploitation. Children are often coerced into performing for an audience without clear boundaries between private lives and public personas, limitlessly prolonging the workday and creating ethical issues beyond traditional child labor protections.
In August 2023, Illinois became the first state to enact legislation, forcing a reevaluation of how we treat minors in the digital age. Since then, states like Washington and California have looked into ways they can protect children of family vlogging. Shari has also become a massive advocate for the banning of family vlogging, arguing that there are no protections that can prevent it from becoming exploitative.
Though slow progress is being made. More influencers are opting to conceal their children’s identities online and legal protections are being proposed. But the work can’t stop there. As consumers, we must be vigilant about the media we engage with — especially when it involves children.
Watching “Devil in the Family” sparked not only a fascination with the documentary but deep questions about the ethics of consuming media generally. As someone who enjoys documentary-style content, I found myself questioning what forms of content are truly ethical. Just as true crime documentaries often exploit real people’s lives and traumas for entertainment, family vlogging raises similar ethical concerns. It forces us to examine the line between telling a story for public consumption and respecting the privacy and autonomy of those involved — particularly children, who may not fully understand the implications of their participation.
This brings us back to the core issue of family vlogging — what does ethical vlogging look like, and how can creators navigate the fine lines between entertainment and exploitation as well as public and private? Ethical vlogging means creating content that is transparent, responsible and considers the long-term impact on those featured. It also means ensuring that children have a voice in decisions about what is shared and that their well-being is prioritized over profit. As we continue consuming media, we must reflect on its ethical implications and hold creators accountable, ensuring their work doesn’t exploit vulnerable individuals for views or monetization.
Danica Lyktey is a freshman majoring in psychology and is a Pipe Dream Opinions intern.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.