True crime is everywhere. Honestly, it feels like every time you open a streaming app, there's another grainy thumbnail of a mugshot staring back at you. But when the John Wayne Gacy Peacock show, officially titled John Wayne Gacy: Devil in Disguise, hit the platform, it did something different. It wasn't just another rehash of the "Killer Clown" tropes we've seen since the eighties.
It was heavy. It was uncomfortable.
Most people think they know the Gacy story. They know about the 33 young men and boys. They know about the crawl space under that brick ranch house in Summerdale. But what this six-part docuseries actually does is pull back the curtain on the institutional failures that allowed a monster to hide in plain sight for years. It’s less about the "clown" persona—which, let’s be real, Gacy didn’t actually use to lure victims—and more about the chillingly mundane life of a precinct captain and community fixture.
Gacy was a predator who understood how to weaponize "normalcy."
Why the Gacy Peacock Show feels so different from other documentaries
Most documentaries follow a very standard, very boring "A to B" timeline. This one doesn't. Produced by NBC News Studios, it benefits from a massive archive of footage that hadn't really been chewed over by the public yet. The backbone of the series is a 1992 interview between Gacy and FBI profiler Robert Ressler.
Seeing Gacy talk? It’s jarring.
He isn't foaming at the mouth. He isn't cackling. He sounds like a disgruntled middle manager complaining about a bad performance review. He’s manipulative, even years into his death row sentence. He tries to paint himself as a victim of a conspiracy. He blames the "real" killers. This specific John Wayne Gacy Peacock show forces you to sit across from a narcissist and watch him try to gaslight the entire world.
It’s a masterclass in how evil actually presents itself: it’s usually quite chatty.
The myth of the "Killer Clown"
We need to address the makeup. The media loves the clown angle because it’s a perfect horror movie hook. Gacy performed as "Pogo" or "Patches" at block parties and hospitals. But he didn't snatch kids while wearing a wig.
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The docuseries makes this clear. He lured victims by using his status as a business owner—PDM Contractors—and his political connections. He offered jobs. He offered money. He used "The Handcuff Trick."
By focusing on the clown aspect, we often miss the much scarier reality: Gacy was a respected member of the community. He was pictured with First Lady Rosalynn Carter. He had "honorary" police badges. He was a guy people trusted. That’s the real nightmare.
New evidence and the search for the missing pieces
One of the most compelling reasons to watch the John Wayne Gacy Peacock show is the focus on the unidentified victims. For decades, eight of Gacy’s victims remained nameless. They were just numbers in a ledger.
Cook County Sheriff Tom Dart reopened the case years ago, and the documentary follows that thread.
- William "Bill" Bundy was identified in 2011.
- Jimmy Haakenson was identified in 2017 after his family provided DNA.
- Francis Wayne Alexander was identified in 2021, partially spurred by the renewed interest from shows like this.
There are still six boys who don't have their names back.
Think about that for a second. Six families who might still be wondering where their brothers or sons went in the late 70s. The show doesn't just treat the victims as a body count. It gives them space. It talks to the siblings who are still grieving forty years later. It reminds us that while Gacy is dead, the damage he did is a living, breathing thing.
The police timeline: A history of missed opportunities
If you want to get angry, watch the episodes detailing the police reports filed before the 1978 arrest. Gacy had already served time in Iowa for sodomy. He was a registered sex offender who moved to Illinois and somehow became a "Democratic Precinct Captain."
Wait. How?
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The John Wayne Gacy Peacock show dives into the local politics of Des Plaines and Chicago. It suggests that Gacy was essentially "protected" by his utility to the local political machine. He did favors. He threw parties. When young men—many of whom were "runaways" or lived on the margins of society—went missing, the police often looked the other way.
It wasn't until Robert Piest vanished in December 1978 that the walls finally closed in. Piest was a "straight-A student" with a stable family. When he went missing after saying he was going to talk to a contractor about a job, the police finally took it seriously.
The documentary subtly points out the classism and homophobia of the era that allowed earlier victims to be ignored. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.
The 1992 interview: Robert Ressler vs. John Wayne Gacy
If you’re a fan of Mindhunter, you know who Robert Ressler is. He was one of the pioneers of criminal profiling. The Peacock series leans heavily on his tapes.
Gacy is a liar. He lies about things that don't even matter.
Watching the dynamics of this interview is fascinating because you see Ressler trying to keep Gacy on track while Gacy tries to lead the conversation down a dozen different rabbit holes. He wants to talk about his construction business. He wants to talk about how the police planted evidence.
Basically, Gacy was a "collector." He collected people, he collected power, and even in a cage, he tried to collect the interviewer's respect.
Why this show matters in 2026
We live in an era of "true crime fatigue." There are literally thousands of podcasts and YouTube channels dedicated to this stuff. So, why watch a John Wayne Gacy Peacock show now?
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Because of the "missing" victims.
There is a growing theory—one the show explores with a healthy dose of skepticism and curiosity—that Gacy didn't act alone. Or, more accurately, that he might have been responsible for even more deaths across state lines. The documentary doesn't dive into baseless conspiracy theories, but it does acknowledge the gaps in the timeline.
Gacy traveled. He had employees who were also troubled. The series leaves you with the haunting realization that we might never truly know the full scale of what happened in that house on Summerdale Avenue.
Actionable insights for true crime viewers
If you’re going to engage with the John Wayne Gacy Peacock show, don't just consume it as entertainment. There are ways to be a more "responsible" consumer of true crime:
- Support Victim Identification Projects: Organizations like the DNA Doe Project work to identify "John and Jane Does." The Gacy case proved that even decades later, science can bring closure to families.
- Look Beyond the "Monster" Narrative: The most dangerous part of Gacy wasn't that he was a "clown." It was that he was a "neighbor." Understanding the grooming process and how predators embed themselves in community structures is the best way to prevent future tragedies.
- Check the Sources: Documentary filmmaking is an art, not a trial. Always cross-reference what you see in a show like Devil in Disguise with court transcripts or investigative journalism from reporters like Bill Kunkle or Terry Sullivan.
The series is currently available for streaming on Peacock. It consists of six episodes, each roughly an hour long. It’s a dense watch. It’s not something you put on in the background while you’re doing laundry. It demands your attention because the details are where the real horror lies.
If you want to understand the Gacy case, stop looking at the clown photos. Watch the interviews. Listen to the families. The John Wayne Gacy Peacock show is probably the most comprehensive look at the man behind the makeup we’ve ever had, and it serves as a grim reminder of what happens when a community chooses to see only what it wants to see.
For those interested in the forensic side of the case, you can follow updates from the Cook County Sheriff’s Office, as they still occasionally release information regarding the remaining unidentified victims. Bringing those six boys home is the only way this story ever truly ends.