L.M. Chilton’s sophomore thriller arrives with a premise so perfectly tuned to our zeitgeist that it feels almost inevitable: what happens when the murdered victim starts messaging from beyond the grave? In “Everyone in the Group Chat Dies,” the author crafts a wickedly entertaining mystery that uses the familiar trappings of true crime culture as both playground and battlefield, delivering a novel that’s as much social commentary as it is page-turning thriller.
The story centers on Kirby Cornell, a struggling journalist at the dying Crowhurst Gazette, who finds herself living with an unlikely cast of flatmates in the fictional English town of Crowhurst. When their newest housemate Esme Goodwin—a ShowMe influencer obsessed with cold cases—vanishes while investigating a thirty-year-old murder spree, Kirby’s amateur sleuthing sets off a chain of events that will haunt her for the next year. The twist? A year after Esme’s tragic death, the group chat lights up with an impossible message: “Everyone in the group chat will die.”
Chilton demonstrates a sharp understanding of how social media has transformed our relationship with tragedy. Through Kirby’s increasingly viral ShowMe videos documenting Esme’s disappearance, the novel explores the uncomfortable reality that our consumption of true crime has become entertainment, with real victims reduced to content. The author doesn’t shy away from this critique, yet manages to keep the narrative compulsively readable rather than preachy.
Dual Timelines and Dark Secrets
The novel’s structure proves to be one of its greatest strengths. Chilton employs a dual timeline, alternating between the present-day murders and the events of twelve months prior when Esme died. This approach allows the author to masterfully control the flow of information, doling out revelations with precision while maintaining mounting tension. Each chapter in the past illuminates something crucial about the present, creating a satisfying interplay that keeps readers constantly reevaluating what they think they know.
The characterization of the flatmates—collectively known as the Deadbeats—feels lived-in and authentic. Dylan, the too-cool chef with hidden depths; Seema, the aspiring dentist with relationship woes; Dave “The Legend,” whose comic relief masks genuine loyalty; and Kirby herself, desperate to escape her famous father’s shadow. Chilton captures the particular chemistry of people thrown together by circumstance rather than choice, complete with inside jokes, petty grievances, and unexpected bonds.
What elevates these characters beyond archetypes is the weight of their shared secret. The novel’s emotional core lies not just in the mystery of who’s killing them, but in their collective guilt over covering up the truth about Esme’s death. This moral complexity adds genuine stakes to the proceedings—we’re invested not because these are perfect people, but because they’re flawed individuals trying to live with an impossible choice.
Small-Town Gothic Meets Modern Horror
Chilton excels at creating atmosphere, transforming the sleepy town of Crowhurst into a character itself. The town’s desperate clinging to its dark past—the Crawe Fayre with its sinister crow mascot, the archived newspapers documenting old murders, the gossip that never quite dies—creates a gothic sensibility that sits uncomfortably alongside the very modern intrusion of viral content and hashtag activism. This collision of old and new horror is where the novel finds much of its thematic richness.
The author’s background in comedy writing (evident from his previous work “Don’t Swipe Right”) serves him well here. The humor is pitch-black but never inappropriate, finding absurdity in the right places without undercutting the genuine horror. Dave’s ridiculous musings about being the “main character,” the workplace dynamics at the failing local newspaper, and Kirby’s increasingly chaotic attempts at investigative journalism provide levity that makes the darker moments hit harder.
The Mystery’s Mechanics
The central mystery unfolds with calculated precision. Chilton plants clues throughout without making them obvious, rewarding attentive readers while ensuring the revelations still land with impact. The reveal of the actual Crowhurst Killer’s identity manages to be both surprising and, in retrospect, inevitable—the mark of a well-constructed mystery.
However, the novel occasionally struggles with pacing in its middle section. Some of the investigative sequences, particularly Kirby’s multiple trips to various locations gathering clues, can feel repetitive. The author sometimes opts for characters explaining plot points to each other rather than showing developments organically. These moments, while functional, lack the narrative momentum that characterizes the book’s strongest sections.
The villain’s motivations, when finally revealed, present an interesting if somewhat underdeveloped critique of local journalism’s decline and communities’ desperation for relevance. Trevor’s obsession with keeping Crowhurst “famous” through manufactured infamy says something profound about how dying towns grasp at any identity, even monstrous ones. Yet this theme could have been explored with more nuance rather than being primarily delivered through villain monologues.
Technology as Character and Threat
One of Chilton’s smartest decisions is making technology itself a character in the story. The WhatsApp group chat serves as more than just a plot device; it’s a chronicle of relationships, a witness to secrets, and ultimately a weapon. The ShowMe app (clearly modeled on TikTok) functions as both tool for truth-seeking and vehicle for dangerous obsession. Even Kirby’s Fitbit becomes crucial to the climax in a way that feels both clever and earned.
The novel captures how we’ve become tethered to our devices in ways both mundane and profound. The horror of receiving messages from the dead is amplified by the fact that we’re all, to some degree, haunted by our digital trails—old group chats, archived posts, permanent records of moments we’d rather forget.
Critiques and Concerns
While “Everyone in the Group Chat Dies” succeeds more than it stumbles, it’s not without flaws. The revelation about Dylan’s parentage, while dramatic, strains credibility in places. The mechanics of how certain secrets were kept for so long require significant suspension of disbelief. Some readers may find the coincidences stacking up—particularly regarding who happens to be where at crucial moments—testing the boundaries of plausibility.
The novel also occasionally tells when it should show, particularly in character moments. Kirby’s relationship with her famous father could have been developed more through scenes rather than exposition. Similarly, some of the flatmates’ deeper motivations and relationships feel sketched rather than fully realized, though this is partially a function of the plot-driven structure.
The ending, while providing closure, rushes through its emotional beats. Dylan’s final moments and Kirby’s processing of everything that’s happened deserved more space to breathe. The epilogue provides some resolution but feels somewhat perfunctory, as if Chilton was eager to wrap things up rather than fully exploring the aftermath.
A Fresh Voice in Crime Fiction
Despite these quibbles, Chilton has delivered something genuinely fresh in the crowded thriller marketplace. His writing style—breezy, contemporary, laced with dry British humor—makes the novel incredibly readable. The prose never calls attention to itself but serves the story efficiently, with occasional flashes of genuine wit that elevate scenes beyond mere plot mechanics.
The author’s willingness to engage with contemporary anxieties—our addiction to true crime content, the loneliness of small-town decline, the pressure of performing ourselves online—gives the book relevance beyond its mystery elements. This isn’t just a whodunit; it’s a commentary on how we’ve turned tragedy into entertainment and communities into content.
The Broader Context
Following his debut “Don’t Swipe Right,” Chilton continues to explore how technology mediates modern relationships and disasters. Where that book tackled dating apps, this one takes on social media influencer culture and our collective obsession with crime content. It’s territory that’s been covered before—books like “The Appeal” by Janice Hallett and “Such a Fun Age” by Kiley Reid have tackled similar themes—but Chilton brings his own perspective and comedic sensibility to the material.
For readers who enjoy their thrillers with a side of social commentary, this sits comfortably alongside authors like Grady Hendrix (who similarly blends horror and humor) and Bella Mackie (who also critiques modern wellness and media culture in “How to Kill Your Family”).
Final Verdict
“Everyone in the Group Chat Dies” is a confident, entertaining thriller that understands the moment it’s writing for. While it may not reach the heights of genre-defining classics, it delivers exactly what it promises: a twisty, darkly funny mystery that keeps you guessing while making you think about your own relationship with true crime content.
Chilton has carved out a niche as a writer who can take the trappings of contemporary life—dating apps, social media, group chats—and mine them for both comedy and genuine menace. This is a book that works as pure entertainment while sneaking in observations about communities in decline, the performance of online identity, and the moral hazards of turning real tragedies into content.
For mystery enthusiasts seeking something that feels contemporary and self-aware, “Everyone in the Group Chat Dies” delivers. Just maybe think twice before clicking on that next true crime documentary or joining that group chat with your old flatmates.
Similar Reads for Mystery Lovers
If you enjoyed this darkly comedic take on modern mysteries, consider these similar titles:
- The Appeal by Janice Hallett – An epistolary mystery told entirely through emails, texts, and documents that similarly examines how we communicate in the digital age
- How to Kill Your Family by Bella Mackie – Combines dark British humor with a twisty plot centered on revenge and class commentary
- The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman – For readers who appreciate the blend of mystery and humor, though with a gentler touch
- Lock Every Door by Riley Sager – Atmospheric thriller with secrets in an apartment building that shares the claustrophobic flatmate dynamics
- One by One by Ruth Ware – Isolated setting with group dynamics and social media elements, perfect for fans of ensemble cast mysteries