Trigger Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, rape and femicide
Director Andrew Templeton opens his debut documentary, “1969: Killers, Freaks, and Radicals,” with a montage. A series of newspaper clippings, video recordings and interview snippets recount the sociopolitical landscape of Michigan in the late 20th century; the audience pieces together context clues from the cacophony of voices and the visuals on screen. The montage describes seemingly random events — radical activism, marijuana rights, the brutal killing of women, police brutality — until it slows at the mention of John Norman Collins, the perpetrator of the infamous serial killings 56 years ago that still haunt Michigan today.
This montage was a perfect set-up for the next two hours of the documentary. “1969: Killers, Freaks, and Radicals” centers the serial killings, dubbed the Michigan Murders, that took place in Ann Arbor and Ypsilanti between 1967 and 1969. Happening almost simultaneously were the critical movements that led to a transformation of Michigan’s entire political landscape. Think of the antiwar South University Riots that became a hallmark of the University of Michigan’s activist history, or the public outrage at the imprisonment of marijuana rights activist John Sinclair that led to the annual Hash Bash we know and love today. Though these events were highly publicized at the time, the media rarely drew a parallel between the two — that is, until “1969: Killers, Freaks, and Radicals.”
The documentary’s objective is ambitious: It attempts to explore the unsteady sociopolitical landscape of Michigan during the late 1960s, using the Michigan Murders as a starting point. Templeton, armed with a small crew and $25,000, makes it a mission to be as thorough as possible. “1969: Killers, Freaks, and Radicals” does not sensationalize nor does it focus solely on Collins; instead, its primary thesis revolves around the dichotomy of the individual versus community. In order to accurately capture the atmosphere of society back then, Templeton goes as far as writing letters to Collins in prison and purchasing security clearance for the police case reports, all while piecing together past public opinion through newspaper clippings and interview testimonials.
As expected from a true crime documentary, these interviewees are figures of authority, ranging from Larry Matthewson, an Eastern Michigan University patrolman whose vigilance eventually led to Collins’ arrest, to the controversial former Washtenaw County Sheriff Doug Harvey, who led aggressive anti-activist efforts against student activists in 1969. However, I found that the most poignant and insightful testimonials came from the women and families of the victims that Templeton interviewed.
Collins specifically targeted adolescent to college-aged women, murdering them in ruthless, furious and cold-blooded ways that would haunt Washtenaw County for years on end. The women had plenty of posthumous stab or laceration wounds and were almost always raped in the most sadistic ways. Worse still was the police inaction across the involved Michigan counties; instead of focusing on catching the Michigan Murderer, they saw it more urgent to arrest the hipsters protesting marijuana restrictions and African American students fighting for civil rights. It was infuriating to watch Templeton recount the multiple times the police carelessly failed to catch Collins, and more heartbreaking still to hear the exhausted anger, even decades later, in the voices of the women who lived in terror at the time.
The documentary also touches on the fact that Collins’ privilege as a Caucasian cis-heterosexual male who seemingly fit into the stereotype of a good, all-American boy allowed him to fly under the police’s radar. In his interview, the 1960s marijuana rights activist John Sinclair scoffed at the mention of Collins. “Who knew that the guy with police connections could be a killer?” Sinclair raised his hands sarcastically. “Not me.” Sinclair’s disdain for Collins and the police was justifiable; he had been arrested three times in less than three years for possession of marijuana whereas Collins, the nephew of sergeant police officer David Leik, had gotten away with brutalizing and raping women for years. It doesn’t come as a surprise to Sinclair that the hippies and radicals who refused to conform to societal norms and had no special connections were targeted and shunned. As a result, Collins’ arrest had come two years too late — after seven women from ages 13 to 24 had already been brutally raped and killed.
Although “1969: Killers, Freaks, and Radicals” was intentionally marketed as true crime, it is especially unique thanks to its restraint and ambition. Throughout the documentary, Templeton does not shy away from depicting Collins’ cruelty as unjustifiable, but he never divulges more gruesome details than necessary. While most directors might be tempted to center the documentary around Collins’ mind, especially with his prison letters, Templeton chooses to center the victims’ families instead. One particularly harrowing testimonial comes from Dale Schulz whose late girlfriend Joan Elspeth Schell was murdered in Ann Arbor on her way to visit him. 56 years later, when asked about whether he still feels as if he is to blame for Joan’s death, Dale does not hesitate to say “yes.”
On the other hand, the documentary’s ambition in capturing every angle of the timeline leads to a balancing act that, while impressive, becomes a little overwhelming at times. Throughout history, Michigan, especially Ann Arbor, has acted as a microcosm of U.S. politics at large, being a hotbed for radical activism on all kinds of issues and conflicts. There were riots against the establishment and the Vietnam War, or rallies fighting for women’s rights, civil rights, marijuana rights and counterculture in general. The documentary attempts to touch upon every single one of these issues, resulting in a narrative that can be difficult to follow for those less familiar with Michigan’s history.
Despite the confusion of the narrative, “1969: Killers, Freaks, and Radicals” is a uniquely nuanced true crime documentary, novel from its counterparts because of its dedication to providing a comprehensive societal study rather than profiting from the victims’ suffering or the killer’s cruelty. Having premiered at the 2025 Annual Indy Film Fest and more recently at Ann Arbor’s Cinetopia 2025, “1969: Killers, Freaks, and Radicals” proves that true crime does not have to be exploitative or sensationalized in order to capture and engage its audience.
Daily Arts Writer Nat Shimon can be reached at nshimon@umich.edu.
