HBO’s two-part documentary Murder in Glitterball City is turning heads—not just for its chilling true-crime narrative, but for how it tackles identity, community, and the messy realities of queer life. Premiering February 19, 2026, on HBO and streaming on Max, the film promises a story that’s as vivid and complex as its title.
At its center is an infamous 2010 murder case from Louisville, Kentucky, captured through the lens of A Dark Room in Glitter Ball City, a nonfiction book by David Dominé. The documentary unravels the mysterious death of James “Jamie” Carroll—drag queen, hairstylist, and vibrant member of Louisville’s queer scene—whose body was discovered buried in the basement of a Victorian mansion shared by Jeffrey Mundt and his boyfriend, Joseph “Joey” Banis.
The crime itself is sensational: initially reported after a 911 call during a domestic dispute, Carroll’s body lay hidden for months. Both Mundt and Banis admitted to disposing of the body but each accused the other of the killing. After two trials, Banis was convicted of complicity to murder and evidence tampering, while Mundt was acquitted of murder but convicted of lesser offenses.
But Murder in Glitterball City isn’t just another true-crime show. According to Out’s interview with producers Randy Barbato and Fenton Bailey—the duo behind Party Monster and RuPaul’s Drag Race—their goal was to dig deeper than procedural details. They wanted a story with character, context, and humanity.
“We fell in love with the city and with the characters,” Barbato told Out. Rather than exploit the case’s more lurid elements—crystal meth use, BDSM undercurrents, or the queer identities of those involved—the filmmakers embraced Louisville’s culture and history, even tying in the city’s surprising connection to disco: during the 1970s, Kentucky was a major producer of mirror balls, giving rise to the nickname “Glitterball City.”
That backdrop serves as a metaphor: light hitting a disco ball scatters in unexpected directions—much like this case’s many conflicting accounts and emotional fractures. Bailey explained they wanted to avoid simplistic judgments and instead honor the complexity of real lives.
The documentary also explores broader themes within the queer community, including the impact of meth addiction and the gap between media sensationalism and lived experience. Familiar faces, like RuPaul’s Drag Race contestant Lexi Love, offer perspective and context, bridging worlds from reality TV to real heartbreak.
Critics and early viewers have noted that Murder in Glitterball City functions less like a sterile investigation and more like a layered portrait—part true crime, part social history, and part cultural reflection. Rather than offering easy answers about guilt or innocence, it invites audiences to sit with ambiguity and to consider how justice, memory, and community intersect.
In an era when queer stories are often streamlined for broad appeal, this documentary stands out by embracing contradiction—melding drag, death, drugs, disco, and heart into a singular, unforgettable narrative.
