The recorded voice is unmistakably Alex Murdaugh’s, but the tone is jarringly casual for a man convicted of slaughtering his wife and youngest son. In a series of jailhouse phone calls obtained and reviewed by this news organization, the disgraced former South Carolina attorney can be heard discussing everything from gang violence behind bars to the logistics of giving away his dead wife’s and murdered son’s possessions as Christmas gifts. The recipient of these calls is his only surviving child, Buster Murdaugh, the 26-year-old heir to a shattered legal dynasty who sat stone-faced through his father’s double murder trial and testified in his defense.
The conversations, which have become a focal point of public scrutiny following the guilty verdict, paint a deeply unsettling portrait of a family navigating catastrophic loss with a chilling absence of visible grief. In one call, Alex Murdaugh suggests that Buster return to the Moselle hunting estate—the very property where Maggie and Paul Murdaugh were found shot to death—to go deer hunting. “Let me tell you what you ought to do, Buster,” Alex says on the recording.
“I think the deer and eaters were full over there at those up. If you felt like going back there, I bet with nothing going on, I bet there’s deer all over them things.” Buster’s reply is immediate and flat: “Not for me, buddy.
What’s that going to do for me? 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁 a deer. I’m not going to hunt out there.”
The exchange, brief as it is, has ignited a firestorm of speculation about the true nature of the relationship between the convicted murderer and the son who stood by him. Legal analysts and body language experts have pored over every syllable, every pause, and every inflection in these calls, searching for clues about what Buster knew and when he knew it. The public, however, has been less measured.
Social media has erupted with theories ranging from complicity to willful ignorance, painting Buster as either a grieving victim of his father’s manipulation or a knowing participant in a cover-up that has yet to be fully 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭.
Buster Murdaugh, for his part, has remained largely silent in the face of the onslaught. He broke his silence only once, in a Fox Nation interview, where he denied being a thief, a liar, or a manipulator, and pushed back forcefully against allegations linking him to the unsolved 2015 death of Stephen Smith, a former classmate whose case was reopened in connection with the Murdaugh investigation. “Have you ever been accused of murdering somebody?”
Buster asked the interviewer, his voice sharp with indignation. “Because it is a terrible thing to place on someone with absolutely no fact.” The defamation lawsuit he subsequently filed against Netflix, Warner Brothers, and other media outlets over their portrayal of him was settled in February 2026, with terms undisclosed.
The jail calls, which were released as part of the discovery process and later broadcast during the trial, reveal a dynamic that contradicts the image of a shattered family presented in court. In one call, Alex Murdaugh can be heard laughing and joking with Buster about being recognized in a casino, a conversation that stands in stark contrast to the weeping, broken man who took the stand in his own defense. “Did you get to gamble any?”
Alex asks. “Yeah, so I did go gambling and then the next day there was an article created about how I’m misusing funds,” Buster replies. “About gambling?”
Alex asks, incredulous. “Yeah, someone took a picture of me and John Marvin in the casino.” Alex’s response is telling: “You are kidding me.
What a piece of [expletive]. I guess you’re going to have to wear a hat and [expletive] when you go places.”
The ease of the banter, the shared frustration over media coverage, and the complete absence of any mention of Maggie or Paul in these moments have led many to question whether the Murdaughs were ever the close-knit family they presented to the world. During the trial, Buster testified that his father was “destroyed” by the murders, that he arrived at Moselle to find Alex weeping and barely able to speak. But the recordings tell a different story.
In the weeks and months after the killings, Alex Murdaugh sounds less like a man consumed by grief and more like a man managing a public relations crisis, using his son as a conduit to the outside world.
“TV Friday bus I saw Jim [clears throat] Marvin on there for just a second,” Alex says in one call, asking Buster for updates on how the family is being portrayed in the media. “Well, did it was it a new interview or was it from that old interview?” Buster asks.
“I would assume if it had him on TV it had to be the old one. He has not gone on TV since.” Alex presses: “Well, I mean did they Was it the same old stuff with a bunch of innuendo and false stuff or were they being semi-truthful?”
Buster’s response is dismissive: “Dad, I I I’d love to be able to give you some insight but I I I didn’t watch it and I didn’t seek out anything any transcripts I don’t know from it. I would assume it’s the same old thing.”
This obsession with narrative control extends to the most macabre of suggestions. In a call approaching Christmas, Alex Murdaugh suggests that Buster distribute the belongings of Maggie and Paul as holiday gifts. “I tell you what,” Alex says, his voice casual, almost offhand.
“Tell me what?” Buster asks. “People something that was mom’s or Paul’s,” Alex replies.
“It’s not something people would really like that.” Buster’s response is telling: “Well, I mean, I wasn’t going to do I wasn’t going to do that.” The suggestion, coming from a man convicted of murdering the very people whose possessions he is proposing to give away, has been described by legal experts as “beyond comprehension” and “a window into a profoundly disordered psyche.”
The calls also reveal the extent to which Alex Murdaugh continued to exert financial control over his son from behind bars. In one conversation, Alex offers to have his brother John give Buster several thousand dollars to cover expenses. “Well, listen here,” Alex says.
“Do you want me to tell Uncle John to give you, you know, several thousand dollars and then I’ll pay you back?” Buster demurs, saying he has enough money. But Alex persists: “Well, we need to get John to pay for the storage facility and then let me pay him back.”
The dynamic is clear: even in prison, Alex Murdaugh is still the patriarch, still the provider, still the one who makes things happen.
This is the central contradiction that has haunted the Murdaugh case from the beginning. In the courtroom, Alex Murdaugh was a study in anguish, a man who admitted to being a liar, a thief, and a 𝒹𝓇𝓊𝑔 addict but swore he had never harmed his family. On the witness stand, he described the night of June 7, 2021, in harrowing detail, his voice cracking as he recounted finding the bodies of his wife and son near the dog kennels at Moselle.
He wept. He pleaded. He insisted that he had loved Maggie and Paul more than anything in the world.
The jury, however, was not convinced. They deliberated for less than three hours before returning a guilty verdict on all four counts: two counts of murder and two counts of possession of a weapon during the commission of a violent crime.
The evidence against him was overwhelming. Prosecutors presented testimony that Alex Murdaugh had been at the kennels minutes before the murders, captured on his son Paul’s cellphone video. They showed that he had lied repeatedly to investigators about his whereabouts that night.
They detailed the financial pressure he was under, facing lawsuits over a fatal boat crash that could have 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 years of theft and fraud. And they played the jail calls, which undercut his defense of a devastated father. The jury heard a man who, in private conversations with his surviving son, sounded more concerned about his public image than the loss of his family.
Buster Murdaugh’s testimony during the trial was a masterclass in controlled composure. He described his father as “heartbroken” and “destroyed” by the murders. He backed his father’s version of a critical piece of evidence: whether Alex had said “I did him so bad” or “They did him so bad” during an interview with investigators.
Buster told the court he had heard the audio and that his father had said “they,” not “I.” The distinction was crucial, as the former could be interpreted as an admission of guilt. Buster’s testimony on this point was unwavering, delivered with the same flat affect that characterized his entire appearance on the stand.
But it was the moments outside of testimony that captured the public’s attention. Cameras caught Buster’s face during graphic testimony about his brother’s injuries, and the footage went 𝓿𝒾𝓇𝒶𝓁. To many observers, his expression appeared to be a smirk.
Body language experts were divided, with some suggesting it could have been a nervous reaction or a suppressed emotion, while others saw something more sinister. The public, however, was largely united in its condemnation. The image of Buster Murdaugh appearing to smile while a medical examiner described the shotgun wounds that killed his brother became one of the defining visuals of the trial.
The broader context of Buster Murdaugh’s life adds another layer of complexity to the public’s perception. He was born into a family that was, for nearly a century, the law in Hampton County, South Carolina. Three generations of Murdaugh men served as the chief prosecutor for the region, and the family law firm anchored their power and prestige.
Buster was groomed to carry on this legacy. He attended law school. He was being prepared to take his place in the dynasty.
But the dynasty collapsed in a single night, and Buster was left to navigate the wreckage.
His father’s crimes extended far beyond the murders. Alex Murdaugh was convicted of stealing nearly $9 million from clients, including the family of his housekeeper, Gloria Satterfield, who died after a fall on the Murdaugh property. He defrauded his own law firm.
He orchestrated a botched suicide-for-hire scheme in which he allegedly paid a man to 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁 him so that his surviving son could collect a $10 million life insurance policy. The scheme failed, and Alex was shot in the head by the man he had hired, suffering only a superficial wound. The incident, which occurred just months after the murders, was widely seen as a desperate attempt to divert attention from the investigation.
Through it all, Buster remained by his father’s side. He visited him in jail. He took his calls.
He testified on his behalf. He sat in the courtroom every day of the trial, watching as the prosecution laid out a case that his father had murdered his mother and brother. And when the verdict was read, Buster showed no visible reaction.
He sat still, his face impassive, as the jury forewoman read the word “guilty” four times.
In the aftermath of the verdict, Alex Murdaugh addressed his son directly from the defendant’s chair. “Buster,” he said, his voice breaking. “I am so sorry that I let you down.
I am so sorry that I have not been able to be with you during such hard times. I am so sorry that I did so many things that are so contradictory to every single thing Mom and I talked to you and Paul.” He went on to apologize for the “false, baseless, unsubstantiated claims” that had been made against Buster in the media, and he expressed pride in the way his son had handled the adversity.
“I have never been more proud of you than I am for the way that you have handled all of the adversity that I put on you,” Alex said. “Your whole family is proud of you. Mom is proud of you.
And Pawpaw is proud of you.”
The speech was a final performance, a last attempt to shape the narrative. But the jail calls had already told a different story. In one conversation, Alex Murdaugh can be heard explaining why he had been on lockdown in prison.
“I don’t know what’s going on but there’s some this is some big weekend where the Bloods and the Crips 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁 each other,” he tells Buster. “So, this is the first time I’ve been out of my thing in I don’t know a while. We’ve been on lockdown all week.
So, I don’t know when I’m going to get to call again. I just didn’t want you to worry about me.” The casualness of the delivery, the matter-of-fact tone, is jarring.
This is a man who is serving two life sentences for murder, and he is discussing gang violence with the same nonchalance he might have used to discuss a business deal.
The question that lingers is what Buster Murdaugh knew and when he knew it. Did he suspect his father was capable of murder? Did he have any inkling of the financial crimes that were about to be 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭?
Or was he, as he has maintained, a trusting son who was blindsided by his father’s betrayal? The jail calls suggest a relationship that was more complex than simple filial devotion. Buster was not just a son checking in on his father; he was a confidant, a sounding board, a partner in navigating the fallout.
He asked questions about the investigation. He provided updates on media coverage. He discussed finances.
He even entertained his father’s suggestion that he return to the murder scene to go hunting.
In the months since the trial, Buster has attempted to rebuild his life. He married his partner, Brooklyn White, in 2023. He has remained out of the public eye, except for the defamation lawsuit, which was settled in February 2026.
The terms of the settlement were not disclosed, and the case was dismissed with prejudice. Stephen Smith’s mother, who had previously expressed suspicion about Buster’s involvement in her son’s death, has said she no longer believes he was involved. The case remains officially unsolved.
Alex Murdaugh’s appeal is still pending before the South Carolina Supreme Court. His attorneys have argued that he was denied a fair trial because of the misconduct of former Colleton County Clerk of Court Rebecca Hill, who was found to have made improper comments to jurors during the trial. Hill pleaded guilty in December 2025 to perjury, obstruction of justice, and misconduct in office.
The state has argued that the evidence against Murdaugh was overwhelming and that any misconduct by Hill did not affect the outcome. The court has yet to rule.
For Buster Murdaugh, the wait continues. He is the last bearer of a name that was once synonymous with power and prestige in the South Carolina low country. Now, that name is a marker of 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓁, a reminder of a dynasty that collapsed in a single night of violence.
He has said little publicly, but his actions have spoken volumes. He stood by his father until the end. He testified in his defense.
He visited him in prison. He took his calls. And he listened, without protest, as his father suggested he give away his murdered mother’s and brother’s belongings as Christmas presents.
The question of who Buster Murdaugh really is remains unanswered. Is he a grieving son who has been unfairly tainted by his father’s crimes? Is he a survivor doing what he must to get through an unimaginable ordeal?
Or is he something else entirely, a figure whose true role in this tragedy has yet to be revealed? The jail calls, the courtroom footage, the moments of silence that spoke louder than words—all of it points to a story that is far more complicated than the one that has been told. And until Buster Murdaugh chooses to speak, the world can only speculate.
The truth, like the murder weapons that were never found, remains hidden, waiting for the moment when it will finally surface.