Who really killed the girls in 'The Yogurt Shop'?

On the night of December 6, 1991, a horrifying crime unfolded in Austin, Texas: four teenage girls were found shot execution-style in the back of an “I Can’t Believe It’s Yogurt!” store, their bodies burned in a fire set to destroy evidence. Amy Ayers, Jennifer Harbison, Sarah Harbison, and Eliza Thomas ranged from 13 to 17 years old. Over 30 years later, the murders remain officially unsolved, and the pain still lingers, etched into the collective memory of the city. HBO’s new four-part documentary The Yogurt Shop Murders, directed by Austin native Margaret Brown, confronts the trauma, mishandling, and many theories behind this chilling case.

The series opens with never-before-seen footage of Robert Springsteen, once on death row for the murders, shopping for a suit after his release. His involvement, along with three other teens (Maurice Pierce, Michael Scott, and Forrest Welborn), was based on coerced confessions and inconsistent testimonies. None of the accused were ever definitively linked to the crime scene through DNA, and years of legal back-and-forth unravelled the state’s case. Brown uses local documentarian Claire Huie’s archival footage to trace their confessions and unravel the contradictions.

Investigators long suspected the attack was a robbery gone wrong, but no physical evidence was recovered due to the fire and chaotic crime scene. Despite multiple confessions, no convictions stuck. Brown’s interviews with law enforcement, journalists, and the victims’ families underscore the trauma left behind. “You just have all of these regrets of not protecting them,” said Barbara Ayres-Wilson, mother to Jennifer and Sarah Harbison.

The documentary avoids sensationalism, opting instead for emotional honesty. The filmmaking process itself was so emotionally gruelling that A24 reportedly paid for therapy for Brown’s team. The crime scene photos were considered too disturbing to show, even to the editors.

With no resolution in sight, The Yogurt Shop Murders doesn’t pretend to solve the case. Instead, it lays bare the enduring scars of a city and the ripple effect of violence that refuses to fade. It’s a haunting reminder of justice delayed, and perhaps denied.