Writer's note: Before I begin, I know what I’m about to say pales in comparison to the experiences of the loved ones of all the victims of John Wayne Gacy.
They must continue to endure his hideous legacy.There’s not much difference phonetically between John Casey and John Gacy. My grade school friends picked up on that right away when the horror of serial killer John Wayne Gacy became front-page news in the papers and the lead story on broadcast news in the late 1970s.They did not call me “John Gacy” because they thought I was gay (little did they know), but just to razz me and get under my skin which they did in ways that were brutally crushing.
I was struggling with the secret that I might be gay, and it was an alarming and dangerous concept.Up to the point of the “Gacy” moniker, I had already been groomed by a priest who then hit on me.
I twisted the experience to mean that he must have discovered that dark secret, that I may be gay. And that was terrifying.Then what seemed to immediately follow was all the news about Gacy and the shocking discovery of all those young gay men buried beneath his home.