In a new documentary streaming on NBCUniversal’s platform Peacock, director Rod Blackhurst takes his viewers through a definitive history of the murders committed by John Wayne Gacy during the 1960s and 1970s. Also known as Chicago’s “Clown Killer,” Gacy was arrested in 1978.

He would later be convicted of killing 33 young men and boys.

Similar in style to other recent true crime documentaries, like Netflix’s Night Stalker: The Hunt for a Serial Killer and Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes, the documentary craftily takes us through Gacy’s history, as well as clips from a 1992 interview between the murderer and FBI profiler Robert Ressler, other Des Plaines investigators, victim histories and family interviews, in addition to talks with journalists and newscasters who covered the story as it was unearthed from beneath the crawlspace of Gacy’s very home.

Whether you can recall living through that time or have done your research, the story is chilling all the same. Like serial killer Ted Bundy, on the surface, Gacy presented as someone who appeared to be an average Joe. Although not as dependent on his looks as Bundy might have been, Gacy shares the same charismatic attitude and the ability to sort of blend into any type of setting, like a chameleon. Over the years, he was known for being heavily involved in politics—having been pictured with First Lady Rosalyn Carter—and was known for throwing neighborhood barbeques and organizing the city’s Polish Constitution Day Parade.

For his occupation, Gacy ran Painting, Decorating and Maintenance (PDM), a million-dollar-a-year contracting business with only four employees. But, when he had spare time, he would dress up as “Pogo the Clown” for children. While being investigated and under constant watch by the police, Gacy even managed to buy some of them beer, would tell them where he was going out of courtesy, and eventually convinced two officers to have dinner with him in his home.

The combination of charisma, sprinkled with his erratic behavior, evidence connecting him to the missing victims, and of course, the stench oozing from the ventilation system in his house, would only contribute to his own downfall, however.

Where the docuseries shines is in its ability to take us through both the history before Gacy’s murders, as well as the considerations and ongoing investigations that continued afterwards. The in-depth profile of Gacy himself—with a considerable number of stories told by his sister and “friends”—paints some otherwise abstract observations. Under all the “for-show” qualities Gacy embodied, he also used his involvement with a local chapter of the Iowa Jaycees (a non-profit, international, non-governmental organization for young people) to swing with other couples, and before moving to Chicago, was convicted of sodomy with a 15-year-old son of a state representative in 1968. Sentenced for 10 years, Gacy only served 18 months, using his recruitment skills to create a Jaycee chapter within the prison walls. He won the warden’s heart through his stomach by working as the number-one cook. Being the model prisoner he was, Gacy also managed to salvage an old mini-golf course for the prison’s recreational activities.

These facts, of course, were also met with clips from Gacy’s 1992 interview with Ressler where, in one breath, he could be found describing how he killed his victims, but in the next, deny his involvement all together. In other instances, Gacy would also defend against the claims that he was a homosexual—but admitted to being bisexual—insisted that the media was “bungled” and that his psychiatrists had him wrong. In reality, his charts described him as being dangerous and a psychopath who would likely become violent again. If only more people had paid attention to these documents and not been fooled by his well-crafted character, the lengths to which this horrific history unfolded could have been avoided.

It is instances like this where the series examines things under a microscope because it wasn’t just one time that something was looked over by officials or investigators; it was multiple occurrences. In the stories told about the victims, as police were gathering evidence, it was apparent that the boys who went missing, who were simply written off as runaways, were actually reported to have been seen with Gacy in one way or another. In some cases, Gacy even gave statements on these disappearances. While I understand that things were a lot different back then in terms of instant results for searches and obtaining information, it was strange how so much could have actually gone unnoticed. The ping of confusion and skepticism strikes again even after the series covers all of the bodies being removed from beneath the floorboards of Gacy’s home when the idea and witness testimony points to the possibility of more bodies being located in an apartment building’s yard, where Gacy’s mother lived for a time. Although technology was utilized to mark possible dig areas, police seemed to only investigate an area that wasn’t mapped out.

Outside of what can be summed up as a lack of thoroughness regarding the investigations, the documentary covers other aspects of the case and life after, such as figuring out who the unnamed victims were as better DNA evidence technologies became available, and piecing together the possibility of accomplices and a potential sex-trafficking ring.

Overall, if you’re a fan of true crime, I think this is a series that not only educates you on the horror that was John Wayne Gacy, but also provokes questions within one’s self about how these kinds of events ever manage to unfold. It’s not always movies where the monsters are—no one ever said the devil was ugly.