Serial Killer The Should Have Biographical Movies

Let’s be honest: there is no shortage of serial killer movies. From
cult classics to prestige TV, the screen is packed with chilling villains,
fictional and real. But in between endless reboots and “based on a true
story” taglines, some of the most important – and uncomfortable – real cases
still haven’t received the thoughtful, victim-centered biographical movies
they deserve.

That doesn’t mean we need more gore or shock value. Quite the opposite.
When done right, a serial killer biographical movie isn’t about glorifying
evil. It’s about exposing the failures that allowed these crimes to happen,
honoring victims whose names were ignored, and helping viewers understand
how real systems – police, courts, social safety nets – can fail in deadly
ways.

In this article, we’ll explore why audiences remain fascinated by
true-crime stories, how responsible filmmakers can approach biopics about
serial killers, and which real cases are still waiting for serious,
carefully made biographical movies. Along the way, we’ll talk about ethics,
media trends, and what it actually feels like to watch (or imagine making)
these kinds of films in a healthy, respectful way.

Why Are We So Obsessed with Serial Killer Movies?

Serial killer movies sit at the intersection of horror, crime, and
psychology. They pull in audiences who want to understand the “why” behind
seemingly senseless violence, to see how investigators piece together tiny
clues, or to watch justice finally catch up to someone who thought they’d
never be caught.

But there’s a dark side to the trend. When storytellers focus on the killer
as a twisted sort of “antihero,” the victims can vanish into the
background. Their lives are reduced to crime-scene photos and body counts,
while the murderer becomes the star of the show. That’s not just
uncomfortable – it can be deeply painful for victims’ families and
communities who are still grieving.

The best modern true-crime projects are starting to push back against that
approach. Instead of glamorizing killers, they highlight the victims, the
investigators, and the systemic failures that allowed the crimes to go on
for years. That’s the model any new biographical movie about a serial
killer should follow.

What Makes a Responsible Serial Killer Biopic?

If we’re going to talk about serial killers who should have biographical
movies, we have to talk about how those movies are made.
A responsible, ethical serial killer biopic usually has a few key traits:

• Victim-centered storytelling. The movie gives names,
  faces, and stories to the victims instead of treating them as props. Their
  families, communities, and perspectives matter.
• Focus on systems, not spectacle. The plot doesn’t just
  track the killer’s crimes; it examines policing, social inequality,
  racism, misogyny, and other forces that allowed the killer to operate.
• No romanticizing or “edgy” glamor. The killer isn’t
  portrayed as cool, misunderstood, or stylish. They’re shown as
  frightening, manipulative, and destructive.
• Real-world context. The film helps viewers understand
  patterns: how serial killers target marginalized victims, how missing
  persons cases get ignored, and how bias affects investigations.
• Consultation with families and experts. When possible,
  survivors and victims’ families are involved – or at least treated with
  respect. Psychologists, historians, and legal experts help keep the story
  grounded in reality.

When you combine these elements, a serial killer biographical movie becomes
less about “entertainment” and more about education, empathy, and
accountability. With that in mind, let’s look at a few real-life killers
whose stories have been explored in documentaries or true-crime books – but
still haven’t received careful, large-scale biographical movies that bring
the full, complex story to a mainstream audience.

Serial Killers Who (Carefully) Deserve Biographical Movies

1. Israel Keyes – The “Traveler” Serial Killer

Israel Keyes is one of the most terrifying and least understood serial
killers in recent American history. Arrested in 2012, he eventually
admitted to multiple murders across different states, using a methodical
approach that involved “kill kits” buried in locations he might visit years
later. He traveled widely, chose victims seemingly at random, and carefully
avoided patterns that traditional profiling relies on.

Keyes has been the subject of documentaries and a deeply reported true-crime
book, and there are television projects in development based on his story.
Yet mainstream audiences still don’t fully grasp how his crimes exposed
weaknesses in law enforcement coordination, data sharing, and surveillance.

A responsible biographical movie about Keyes wouldn’t need to linger on
graphic details. Instead, it could:

• Show how his mobility, planning, and lack of an obvious “type” helped him
  avoid detection.
• Highlight the victims and the communities blindsided by his crimes.
• Examine the investigators’ work and the role of chance in finally catching
  him.
• Raise questions about how many similar offenders might still slip through
  the cracks.

Done right, the film would be less “look at this genius villain” and more
“how did we miss this for so long – and what needs to change now?”

2. Samuel Little – America’s Most Prolific Serial Killer

Samuel Little, who died in prison in 2020, has been described by federal
investigators as the most prolific known serial killer in U.S. history. He
confessed to 93 murders, mostly of women whom society often treated as
“less visible” – people in poverty, sex workers, women struggling with
addiction, and women of color whose disappearances rarely made headlines.

Documentaries and docuseries have explored his confessions and the slow,
painstaking process of matching them to unsolved cases. But there has not
yet been a major narrative feature that centers on the people whose lives he
took, and on the structural issues that allowed his crimes to go
unconnected for decades.

A Samuel Little biographical movie, if handled with sensitivity, could:

• Tell the stories of multiple victims and families over time, showing how
  each disappearance was treated in its own era.
• Explore the role of race, gender, and class in who gets searched for,
  who gets believed, and whose cases go cold.
• Follow investigators, journalists, and advocates who refused to give up.
• Focus on the laborious work of revisiting old files, using modern
  databases, and connecting patterns that had been missed.

Instead of letting the killer dominate the story, this kind of biopic could
humanize the dozens of women whose names are still lesser known than his.

3. Lonnie Franklin Jr. – “The Grim Sleeper” and a City’s Blind Spot

Lonnie Franklin Jr., nicknamed the “Grim Sleeper,” preyed on Black women in
Los Angeles for decades. Many of his victims were poor, involved in sex
work, or living on the margins of a city that often looks away from its
most vulnerable residents. The nickname came from a supposed long gap in
his killing – but investigators suspect he may never have truly stopped.

His crimes have been covered in investigative journalism and
documentaries, and there has been a made-for-TV dramatization. But a
serious, large-scale biographical movie could dig deeper into how race,
class, and geography shaped who police prioritized – and who they didn’t.

A thoughtful film about the Grim Sleeper would likely:

• Center the women he targeted, their families, and advocates who kept
  demanding answers.
• Explore community activism in South Los Angeles as residents realized
  there was a serial killer in their midst.
• Show the tension between public statements that minimized the danger and
  the growing fear on the streets.
• Question what it means when missing Black women are quietly written off
  as “high risk lifestyles” instead of urgent priorities.

In other words, the movie wouldn’t just be about one man’s crimes. It would
be about what those crimes say about a city and a system.

4. Overlooked and Unsolved Cases – A Different Kind of Biopic

Not every serial killer story is “ready” for a biographical movie. When a
case is unsolved, still under investigation, or based on speculation, a
traditional biopic risks turning rumor into “truth” just because it’s on
screen.

But there is a powerful alternative: a film that uses one community’s
experience with an unsolved series of murders as its center of gravity.
Instead of framing it as “the story of the killer,” the movie could follow:

• A family searching for answers for years or decades.
• Local journalists who refuse to let the story die.
• Detectives juggling limited resources, outdated evidence, and changing
  technology.
• Activists confronting officials over why certain victims never got the
  same attention as others.

This kind of movie wouldn’t pretend to know the killer’s mind. Instead, it
would highlight the persistence of those who keep pushing for justice long
after the headlines fade.

Lessons from Existing Serial Killer Movies and Shows

Hollywood has already produced plenty of serial killer films – some more
responsible than others. Recent projects about infamous killers have
started to shift the lens, focusing more on victims and context than on
shock value alone.

That trend offers useful lessons for any future biographical movies:

• Point the camera at the victims. Flashbacks that show
  victims’ lives before the crime push back against the idea that
  they’re just names on a list.
• Show the emotional cost. Families, investigators, and
  communities live with this trauma for years. Honest depictions of grief
  and frustration prevent the story from becoming “entertainment only.”
• Avoid the “evil genius” stereotype. Many serial killers
  are not masterminds. They get away with crimes because of systemic
  failures, bias, and neglect – not because they’re supervillains.
• Be transparent about what’s speculative. When movies
  fill in unknown details, clearly framing them as dramatization rather than
  fact respects both the audience and the real people involved.

When filmmakers apply those principles, true-crime biographical movies can
do more than shock viewers – they can start conversations about reform,
empathy, and how to prevent similar tragedies in the future.

Experiences and Reflections on Serial Killer Biographical Movies

So what does it feel like to engage with this kind of story – whether as a
viewer, a critic, or someone imagining how these films could be made more
responsibly? The experience is complicated, and that’s exactly why it’s
worth talking about.

For many viewers, the first reaction to a serial killer biographical movie
is simple curiosity. You see a trailer promising a “true story” and your
brain wants answers: How did this happen? Why didn’t anyone stop it sooner?
How did investigators finally catch the person responsible? That curiosity
is natural. Humans are wired to scan for threats and to try to understand
extreme behavior, especially when it violates our sense of safety.

But about halfway through a good, responsible film, the experience should
start to shift. You’re no longer simply fascinated by the crime; you’re
emotionally anchored to the victims and their families. You might find
yourself feeling angry at the system, frustrated with missed red flags, or
deeply moved by the resilience of survivors who keep going despite
unimaginable loss. Those emotional reactions are a sign that the movie is
doing more than selling you a spooky night in front of the TV.

There’s also the experience of discomfort – and that’s healthy. When a
movie about a serial killer is made thoughtfully, some scenes are supposed
to feel heavy. You’re meant to notice how casually authorities sometimes
dismissed missing people, especially when they were poor, addicted, or
marginalized. You’re meant to see the contrast between how certain crimes
dominate national news and how others barely make local headlines. That
discomfort is a moral alarm clock: it tells you that something about the
real world needs fixing.

From a cultural standpoint, these movies can act like a mirror. They reflect
back the values and blind spots of the time they portray. A film about a
killer targeting women of color in the 1980s, for example, isn’t just about
one criminal; it’s about policing, racism, media priorities, and the value
society placed – or failed to place – on those lives. When we leave the
theater or turn off the streaming app still thinking about those questions,
the movie has done more than entertain. It has nudged us toward empathy and
awareness.

There’s also an important personal boundary piece. True-crime fans today
are increasingly conscious of not crossing into obsession or voyeurism.
Many viewers set their own rules: don’t watch when you’re emotionally
drained, take breaks between heavy stories, and avoid content that feels
exploitative rather than informative. Some people prefer documentaries
because they include expert analysis and real-world context. Others favor
scripted biographical movies because they can emphasize emotional truth
over graphic detail. The key is being intentional: asking, “Why am I
watching this, and is it helping me understand the world more responsibly?”

If filmmakers ever bring more storieslike those of Israel Keyes, Samuel
Little, or victim-centered depictions of the Grim Sleeperto the big
screen, viewers will have decisions to make too. Do we support projects
that clearly prioritize victims, systemic critique, and respectful
storytelling? Do we skip films that seem to chase shock value or treat
killers like celebrities? In a media landscape driven by clicks and
streaming numbers, audience choices send loud messages.

Ultimately, serial killer biographical movies are a high-risk, high-impact
corner of storytelling. When mishandled, they can glorify cruelty and
retraumatize communities. When done with care, they can preserve the memory
of victims, expose injustice, and remind viewers that behind every “true
crime” headline is a human life that deserved better. The next generation
of these films shouldn’t just ask, “How scary can we make this?” They
should ask, “How honest, useful, and humane can we be?”

Conclusion: Stories That Should Be Told – Carefully

The question isn’t whether we “need” more serial killer movies. The question
is what kind of stories we choose to tell, and whom we choose to center.
Cases like Israel Keyes, Samuel Little, and the Grim Sleeper reveal deep
cracks in law enforcement, social safety nets, and media attention. In that
sense, they aren’t just crime stories – they’re stories about us.

Biographical movies about serial killers should never be about turning real
people’s suffering into aesthetic entertainment. They should be about
honoring victims, exposing uncomfortable truths, and pushing audiences to
think more critically about the systems meant to protect them. If we do see
these stories reach the screen in the future, the most important review
won’t be the star rating. It will be whether the people most affected by
these crimes feel seen, heard, and respected.