If you're fan of thriller must watch-My Father, the BTK Killer (2025)

When Netflix announced My Father, the BTK Killer for its 2025 documentary lineup, true-crime enthusiasts expected another retelling of Dennis Rader’s monstrous crimes. But what the film delivers is far more intimate, haunting, and human. This is not simply a story of a serial killer who terrorized Kansas for decades. it’s a painful journey into the heart of a daughter who loved her father, trusted him, and then had to face the unbearable truth that he was one of America’s most calculating murderers.

Directed with a slow, investigative rhythm that pulls viewers in layer by layer, the documentary gives the audience a seat at the emotional core of a family shattered by lies. Rader, who called himself BTK “Bind, Torture, Kill” was responsible for a series of brutal murders between 1974 and 1991. For more than 30 years, he led a double life as a devoted husband, father, church member, and community worker, while secretly planning and carrying out horrifying killings. The film does not sensationalize his crimes; instead, it paints the chilling picture of how easily monstrosity can hide behind normalcy.

The narrative belongs primarily to his daughter, Kerri Rawson. Through her interviews, letters, and personal reflections, My Father, the BTK Killer becomes a story about discovery, betrayal, and survival. Kerri describes her childhood in Wichita as warm and ordinary camping trips, family dinners, laughter, and school events. Her father was the neighborhood’s dependable presence, a Boy Scout leader and city compliance officer. Nothing in her world suggested the darkness that existed behind his calm smile.

Everything changed in 2005 when FBI agents knocked on her door and told her that her father was the BTK Killer. The moment is replayed through dramatized visuals and actual news footage, showing the chaos that followed the disbelief, the denial, the fear of becoming a public target. The documentary allows Kerri to narrate her emotional collapse with a quiet dignity that’s both heartbreaking and brave. Her pain isn’t loud; it’s slow, suffocating, and profoundly human.

Netflix balances the narrative between Kerri’s story and the historical context of the BTK case. Using archival materials, taped police interrogations, and chilling letters that Rader sent to the media, the film reconstructs how he taunted law enforcement for decades before his eventual capture. What makes the viewing experience so gripping is how these cold, procedural details are interwoven with Kerri’s private memories like watching two realities collide. She recalls childhood scenes that now look sinister in hindsight: her father’s strange absences, his obsession with routine, his quiet anger when things weren’t perfect.

Throughout the documentary, experts on criminal psychology and investigators provide insight into how Rader maintained his double life. Yet, the film never shifts focus away from the family’s trauma. Kerri’s struggle is not only about understanding her father’s crimes but also about reclaiming her identity from his shadow. She faces a world that sees her not as a daughter but as “BTK’s child.” The emotional toll of this unwanted legacy becomes the centerpiece of the film.

The documentary’s tone is introspective and deliberately paced. It doesn’t rush through facts; it lingers in silences, pauses, and long moments of reflection. The camera often stays on Kerri’s face as she tries to describe memories that suddenly feel corrupted. These moments reveal more than any footage of the killer ever could. It’s not about the sensational side of crime. it’s about what happens to those who are left behind to pick up the fragments of a shattered life.

One of the most compelling sequences shows Kerri reading her father’s letters from prison. His words are chilling in their ordinary tone, as if he refuses to see the magnitude of what he’s done. She wrestles with conflicting emotions anger, sorrow, and a strange need for closure. The film handles these exchanges with great care, never turning them into spectacle. Instead, they become a quiet confrontation between good and evil, love and horror.

The production values are strong but restrained. There’s a cold, muted color palette that mirrors the emotional numbness of the subject matter. The background score is minimal distant echoes, soft piano keys, and ambient tones that make the silence even more disturbing. Each frame seems designed to make viewers reflect rather than react. It’s less of a crime documentary and more of a psychological portrait.

What also makes My Father, the BTK Killer stand out is its refusal to provide easy answers. There’s no attempt to explain why Rader did what he did because perhaps there is no explanation that can satisfy reason. Instead, the documentary keeps returning to Kerri’s central question: How do you love someone capable of such horror? Her search for understanding is the emotional backbone of the film. She meets with other family members of criminals and psychologists who help her navigate her guilt and trauma. Slowly, she learns to separate her father’s actions from her own identity, to acknowledge that she is not defined by his crimes.

The film’s closing moments are deeply moving. Kerri visits her childhood home, now quiet and empty. The rooms feel familiar yet foreign, filled with invisible ghosts of the past. As she walks through the house, her voiceover speaks of forgiveness not as an act of excusing her father, but as a way to free herself from the constant weight of anger. It’s a powerful reminder that healing is not about forgetting; it’s about surviving.

By the time the credits roll, My Father, the BTK Killer leaves its audience emotionally drained but thoughtful. It’s not a documentary that entertains; it confronts. It makes viewers examine how easily evil can disguise itself as ordinary, how trust can be shattered in an instant, and how families carry the invisible burden of crimes they did not commit.

Netflix has mastered the art of turning true crime into human storytelling, and this 2025 release stands among its most introspective works. It’s riveting, investigative, and deeply personal, a blend of documentary realism and emotional depth that lingers long after it ends.

In the end, My Father, the BTK Killer is not just about a serial killer. It’s about the people who live in the aftermath the survivors who must wake up every day knowing the world sees them through the lens of someone else’s monstrosity. Kerri Rawson’s story is both tragic and inspiring, showing that even in the face of unimaginable horror, humanity can endure.