The lights of late 1970s Los Angeles promised glamour, possibility, and fame. But in the shadow of

those palm-line streets moved a man whose charm was as dangerous as it was disarming. A man who could

smile for a camera, even as he carried the weight of unspeakable secrets. And on a summer afternoon,

he'd be the stranger offering to take your picture.

And that evening, he might be a contestant on a cheerful TV game show.

And somewhere between the flash of the lens and the applause of the audience, lives would

be changed forever.

This is the story of Rodney Alcala, the predator who hid in plain sight, and the trail of shattered

lives he left behind. Crime, conspiracy, cults, serial killers, and murder, all things that I love

to consume, and I know you do too, you sick, twisted, beautiful, intellectually-minded

freak. That was good.

Today we are covering a insane story, one that quite literally just sounds like a movie and of course was made into one.

And we'll talk about that a little later.

But it is terrifying to think that a human being like this could be out there

while being so charismatic, not unlike Ted Bundy, and so easily steal the lives from innocent

human beings. So without further ado, let's unbuckle our seatbelts, go Mach 5 down the highway,

slam him on the brakes, and bust through this windshield into this disturbing serial killer together.

Rodney James Alcala was born Rodrigo Jacques Alcala on August 23, 1943 in San Antonio, Texas. And he was the third of four children in what appeared to be a normal Mexican-American family.

And in 1951, when Rodney was about eight years old,

his father moved the family to Mexico,

only to abandon them three years later.

Shit Dad.

...