Investigative journalism has found renewed momentum in long-form audio podcasts, where narrative structure, pacing and voice can carry complex stories beyond the limits of print. The Observer, formerly Tortoise Media, has emerged as a respected authority in this field, producing podcast documentaries that blend deep reporting with carefully crafted storytelling. Tortoise Media was a U.K.-based slow-news journalism organization known for its investigative reporting and emphasis on depth, transparency and editorial collaboration over speed. In 2025, it bought The Observer, the U.K.’s oldest Sunday paper. Senior Investigative Reporter Chloe Hadjimatheou is The Observer’s narrative editor and the host of several of its podcast series. Her work offers insight into how investigative rigor translates into an audio-first workflow — and how collaborative editorial challenge and narrative restraint help build trust with listeners
LONDON — I didn’t move into podcasting because I wanted to make podcasts. I moved into it because I didn’t find TV satisfying journalistically. Before my journalism training, I made a documentary for TV on my own. It wasn’t very good, but it showed me that television involves a lot of process, with less time for actual journalism. I also found that scripting — something I really enjoy — was quite absent in TV production.
However, I’ve always loved broadcast as a medium, and podcasts offer much more detail. They’re also much more personal. Mostly, you’re speaking directly to someone’s mind and drawing them into another world. That connection with the audience is incredibly close, and I found I could tell stories in a way I couldn’t with any other medium.
Thinking in episodes
When I’m deciding whether to turn an investigation into a podcast series, the first thing I think about is: Can this sustain multiple episodes? Are there enough cliffhangers? Are there enough twists and turns?
Few stories can truly do that, and they’re hard to find. A story might be great, but ultimately better as a single documentary or article. When I pitch a multipart series, I’ve already mentally structured it. I might not know if it’s six or eight episodes, but I believe there are enough developments to support it.
Very early on — sometimes after just a few interviews — the team begins mapping out episodes. Those will change later. In fact, if the interviews are any good, they will evolve. But having something to start with is helpful. It’s quite a challenging process to create a structure out of thin air, but it gives you something to aim for.
You can’t just have a whole bunch of stuff come at you and then try to figure out the structure afterward. You can’t start with a jumble of interviews and impose shape at the end. That doesn’t work.
At the same time, you need to build in flexibility. You can start a brief interview with a set idea in mind, only to find that the interviewee is brilliant. Suddenly, they end up occupying half the episode instead of being a small part. We’re constantly readjusting. But having that initial framework matters.
For me, three elements make something suitable for a narrative investigative series. The first is almost always a central character — someone around whom the story revolves. Quite often, that person may be absent quite often. In “Mayday,” which I made at the BBC, the central character is already dead when the series begins. But the entire story is anchored around him. In the Tortoise Media series “The Gasman,” that figure becomes clear later. In “Lucky Boy,” it’s obvious from the start. Without that anchor, it’s very difficult to sustain multiple episodes.
Secondly, there must be a journey. The story needs to develop — it must have complexity and movement. You require those twists and turns. There should be layering; otherwise, it just won’t sustain a series.
And lastly, for me, there must be something that still needs to be unpicked. I don’t want to make historical stories where everything is already settled. I want there to be some mystery at the heart of it — a pressing question. The simpler the question is and the more I’m able to answer it, the better the podcast.
I want listeners to feel smarter — whether that’s about the human condition or about how the world works.
A collaborative process
A good podcast does two things. It keeps you entertained — because at the end of the day, who’s going to listen unless they’re gripped? But it should also leave you feeling like you’ve discovered something. The podcasts I enjoy listening to are those where I feel I’ve done some of the work. The twists and turns should allow me to piece things together on my own. That’s satisfying.
I don’t like what I call “McDonald’s podcasts.” The kind that feels great while you’re listening, but at the end, leaves you a little unfulfilled. You feel like you’ve consumed something, but you don’t feel richer for it. I want listeners to feel smarter — whether that’s about the human condition or about how the world works. I want a podcast to feel like time well spent.
If you hear me narrating, it’s easy to think I’m doing this alone. I’m not. Tortoise Media podcasts are incredibly collaborative, particularly between three people: The reporter, the producer and the sound designer. The executive editor also provides a fresh perspective and isn’t as wrapped up in the story.
When I’m reporting, the structure evolves organically, but it also shifts because someone else sees something I don’t. It’s also easy to become immersed in the material. In “Lucky Boy,” there was a moment I felt was pivotal — a scene I had replayed in my head many times. When we constructed the episode, my producer said, “We’ve already made this point. It’s not adding what you think it is.” Letting go was painful.
There isn’t always agreement when developing such a story, but there is trust. Sometimes I’ll insist on building something fully before cutting it, to test the instinct. That friction — those competing perspectives — strengthens the final structure.
Sound design plays a crucial role as well, and we’re lucky to have a remarkable sound design team. With “Lucky Boy,” for example, the soundscape transported listeners to a specific time and place. It wasn’t decoration; it was storytelling. A strong sound designer helps shape the series’ emotional architecture.
The realities of the market
The difficulty now for investigative podcasting is financial. After “Serial” — the 2014 investigative-journalism podcast created by Sarah Koenig and Julie Snyder that popularized narrative-audio storytelling — the market became saturated with similar narrative series. In the last couple of years, we’ve seen podcast companies close — some of them excellent. It’s been painful watching brilliant journalists lose their jobs.
Unfortunately, investigative series podcasts are expensive and risky — something can emerge during reporting that derails the whole thing. It’s much easier to make chat shows. They’re cheaper, quicker and legally less risky. So, I think the market for narrative investigative series will remain relatively small.
But for me, they’re the best thing I’ve ever done. Each one feels like an entirely new challenge. I don’t feel like I’ve mastered investigative journalism podcasting. I still feel like I’m learning every time. And I can’t imagine ever getting tired of it.
Equipment
Mics: Neumann TLM103 studio set microphones
Headphones: beyerdynamic DT770 Pro headphones
Production and Editing:
- Adobe Audition for recording and editing in the studio
- Riverside HD podcast software on laptops for on-site recording and editing
- Allen and Heath SQ5 digital mixer
This story originally appeared in the July/August 2026 edition of RedTech Magazine. You can read or download that edition for free here.
You can access all past RedTech publications, also for free, here.
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