gay

Not long after documentary filmmaker Rachel Mason began looking into the gruesome 1990 cold-case murder of gay porn actor Bill Newton in Hollywood, Newton’s former boyfriend, Marc Rabins, showed her a gay newspaper from the time, full of obituaries.

There was Newton’s young, handsome face, but also the faces of other young men, all of whom had died of AIDS.

“AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, murder,” Mason said in a recent interview with The Times. “I was so disgusted. Like, no, you can’t have a murder in this sea of people already dying — that’s not right, not fair. We can’t let this go.”

And she didn’t.

Instead, Mason helped convene a team of amateur sleuths to doggedly investigate the case, and in a stunning twist perfect for the true-crime documentary she was filming all along the way, helped lead Los Angeles police detectives to a new suspect — who confessed to killing Newton, who went by “Billy London” in films, before his head and feet were found in a dumpster.

“It’s pretty astounding,” Mason said. Others clearly agree.

On Wednesday, organizers of the SXSW Film and TV Festival announced that Mason’s documentary — titled “My Brother’s Killer” and featuring a chilling on-camera interview with the confessed killer — will world premiere at SXSW in March.

“The unsolved murder of Billy London, a gay adult film performer brutally killed in West Hollywood, was an urban legend for 33 years. A documentary intended to honor his life took an unexpected turn when members of the community joined forces to uncover overlooked clues, and seek a resolution to the mystery of who killed him,” the festival announcement teased.

“Drawing on a rare trove of VHS and personal footage,” the announcement added, “the film reveals a chilling overlap between the victim and some of the suspects who were captured on camera in films made in the narrow window of Billy’s death.”

Mason said she is thrilled with the festival’s selection of her film, just as she was by The Times chronicling the sleuths cracking the case in a front-page story in 2023, which the film highlights.

Before then, Newton’s story had only really been told in smaller gay publications, Mason said. Now, it’s being featured at a “major, mainstream festival” at a time when LGBTQ+ rights are under attack across the country, which is “a big deal.”

“The larger picture of this film is, if anything, a point of optimism, you know? A beacon of hope in some dark times,” she said. “A community solving a murder!”

A killer film

Mason is known in part for a previous Netflix documentary she made called “Circus of Books,” about the adult bookstore on Santa Monica Boulevard where her parents spent years selling gay porn and LGBTQ+ literature.

That film was in part an ode to West Hollywood, and so is “My Brother’s Killer,” which talks about Los Angeles’ gayborhood with both reverence and a dose of reality — acknowledging its role as a safe haven for gay people facing discrimination and its seedier side as a drug-heavy party scene in decades past.

Rachel Mason in 2023 in Hollywood.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

The film captures Newton’s struggles with that scene, including with methamphetamine, but also his sweet side, featuring interviews with family and friends who recalled a kind but unsettled 25-year-old who’d faced rejection at home in Wisconsin and run away as a teen to find acceptance. It also captures what the gay porn industry was like in West Hollywood as AIDS ravaged and stigmatized the community.

The film introduces various members of Mason’s investigative squad, including Clark Williams, a stay-at-home dad with a background in social work who also hailed from Wisconsin. Williams developed the lead that convinced LAPD detectives to head to an Oklahoma penitentiary in search of answers from their new suspect, DarraLynn Madden.

And it is with the introduction of Madden — a former gay porn actor and skinhead in Hollywood and now a transgender inmate serving a life sentence for killing another gay man years after Newton’s murder — that the film really hits its stride.

First, lead detective John Lamberti discusses securing a confession from her.

“We initially just said that we were there to talk about an old case from L.A., and it was Madden who actually brought up Billy first, and said, ‘Oh well yeah, and there was this one case where somebody’s head and feet got found in a dumpster,’” Lamberti says in the film. “And I’m just sitting there trying to keep a poker face: ‘Oh, OK, tell me more.’”

“The fact that I walked out of there with a confession was just mind-blowing,” he says.

Then Madden recounts in harrowing detail the killing in an on-camera interview Mason arranged after striking up a written correspondence with her.

Bill Newton, a.k.a. Billy London, was a Wisconsin transplant to L.A. and gay porn actor whose head and feet were found in a Hollywood dumpster in 1990.

(Marc Rabins)

Madden tells Mason that she and some skinhead friends saw Newton “in a place us skins frequented to hunt and to perform acts of violence,” and that she “laid the plan down to get out, put my arm around him and let him know this is what we’re gonna do — or else. We’re going to walk to this car and we’re just going to take a ride.”

Madden describes the group punching, kicking and elbowing Newton — “He was kind of like a prize pinata at the time. I know that sounds horrible” — and taunting him for being gay and high. She then describes strangling him with a cord, and deciding to cut up his body.

“The only thing we could think of to get out of the apartment as clandestine as we possibly could was to dismember Billy, which was not an easy task,” Madden says.

Full circle for sleuths

Mason’s film — which she made independently with editor and producer Dion Labriola — gives substantial time to her fellow sleuths, including Williams and Christopher Rice and Eric Shaw Quinn, who have pored over the case on their podcast “The Dinner Party Show.”

After watching Mason’s interview with Madden, Rice says in the film, “I always harbored a suspicion that maybe it was a false confession, but that’s not a false confession.”

Rice also contemplates Madden’s own troubled upbringing, her struggling in a world where both gay and transgender people face tremendous discrimination, and what he sees as Madden projecting her own self-loathing onto Newton.

“Yes, the queer community has villains, we have people who are seeking to oppress us,” Rice says in the film. “But if we indulge our own self-loathing, it can go down a road as dark and twisted as this.”

Rabins, Newton’s boyfriend who police once suspected of being the killer, says in the film that hearing Madden’s confession marked a turning point in his mourning process: “Up until that moment, I always felt Bill’s presence around me. And after that, I feel like he’s flying free.”

Prosecutors declined to bring charges against Madden, citing a lack of evidence beyond the confession and Madden already being behind bars for life in Oklahoma. Madden could not be reached for comment.

Williams has since worked on a dozen other cold-case homicides across the country and helped prosecutors build a case against a new suspect in a 1991 murder in Michigan. That suspect is now headed to trial for murder.

Rachel Mason with Clark Williams in 2023, shortly after the LAPD announced they were closing the investigation into Billy Newton’s murder after securing a confession.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Williams said he was able to crack Newton’s killing by completely immersing himself in Newton’s life, and that Newton really came alive for him through that process. “Billy became a person to me that I knew and loved,” he said.

Because of that, he is a little apprehensive about Madden appearing in Mason’s film, he said.

“I understand why she’s a cinematic figure, but I don’t like DarraLynn Madden,” He said. “In fact, I loathe DarraLynn Madden.”

That said, Williams said he trusts Mason to do the story justice, and is excited to see the film.

“I’ve always believed that Billy Newton reflects a whole generation — my generation — of gay men who came of age in the 1980s and 90s,” Williams said. “I’m really happy that that story gets to be told.”

WASHINGTON — The discussion of gay rights activist Roberta Achtenberg’s appointment as assistant secretary for the Department of Housing and Urban Development flared into passionate debate on the Senate floor Wednesday as conservative Republicans accused her of being a militant who would abuse her power and Democrats defended her with equal fury.

The San Francisco attorney and city supervisor was expected to be confirmed–but not before a phalanx of conservative Republicans led by Sen. Jesse Helms (R-N.C.) challenged her record of gay activism and criticized her for purportedly leading a controversial fight to pressure the Boy Scouts of America into dropping a policy barring acknowledged homosexuals from serving as Scoutmasters.

Helms, who was quoted earlier as saying he opposed Achtenberg’s nomination because she is “a damn lesbian,” modified his objections on the Senate floor, arguing that his colleagues should reject the nominee “not because she is a lesbian, but because she is a militant activist who demands that Americans accept as normal a lifestyle that most of the world finds immoral.”

Waving a stack of letters of recommendation from organizations such as United Way, Sen. Barbara Boxer (D-Calif.) ardently defended Achtenberg’s record.

“Character assassination will not hold, whether it is in the press or in this beautiful hall,” Boxer said defiantly. “People who don’t know this woman and who admittedly don’t like her private life would try to destroy her. That has no place in . . . this great institution.

“If you are against a nominee, then you better come up with the truth, because what we heard here today from the senator from North Carolina saddens me deeply . . . and frightens me.”

The Senate’s discussion of Achtenberg, who is openly lesbian, marked the first time that a nominee’s sexual orientation has become an issue in a Senate confirmation process.

Helms, who had maneuvered behind the scenes to delay the Senate debate on Achtenberg, has already indicated that he will not attempt a filibuster to prevent a vote on her nomination. But an aide said that the senator wants to keep the debate going long enough “to have a thorough discussion of her nomination” in the hopes of persuading more than just a handful of Senate conservatives to vote against her.

Achtenberg’s nomination was recommended by the Senate Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs Committee in a 14-4 vote May 5. Although that suggested that enough Republicans would vote for her to prevent any attempts at a filibuster, Helms’ opposition meant that the debate was likely to extend at least into early next week.

As they took to the floor in the highly charged debate, Achtenberg’s supporters and critics painted sharply contradictory portraits of the 42-year-old woman and her suitability to head the office that enforces the nation’s fair housing laws.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.), a former mayor of San Francisco, recalled Achtenberg’s role as a city supervisor in pressing to end housing discrimination against families with children, minorities and gays and said that as an assistant secretary at HUD “she will speak out to make sure our housing laws are fairly enforced.”

But Sen. Trent Lott (R-Miss.) argued that Achtenberg was unfit for the nomination because of an activist record of “intolerance, discrimination and vendettas against those who do not share her beliefs.”

Lott and other conservative Republicans took particular issue with Achtenberg’s stance against the Boy Scouts and the resolution she sponsored as a city supervisor urging San Francisco to withdraw $6 million in deposits from the Bank of America because it had donated money to the Boy Scouts, which she said discriminated against homosexuals as Scoutmasters.

“The Boy Scouts are not exactly a subversive organization . . . yet Roberta Achtenberg used her public position to threaten and extort any organization that had ties with the Boy Scouts,” Lott said.

But Boxer had a different interpretation. Rather than spearheading a battle for homosexual Scoutmasters, Boxer said, Achtenberg was one of 59 members of the United Way board who supported a suggestion by a task force, which she did not participate in, to drop funding to the Boy Scouts because of its discriminatory rules.

One of the most heated moments in the early debate came when Banking Committee Chairman Sen. Donald W. Riegle Jr. (D-Mich.) demanded to know of Helms whether he had been quoted correctly in referring to Achtenberg earlier this month as a “damn lesbian.”

Helms said he could not recall whether he used the word damn . But pressed by an angry Riegle, Helms added he “may very well have said” that and he challenged Riegle to “make what you will of that.”

Helms then left the hall, but the debate continued with Sen. Carol Moseley-Braun (D-Ill.) lashing out at him and the other conservatives for employing tactics of “fear and divisiveness.”

“It demeans our body to have a member taking credit for being quoted as a bigot,” Moseley-Braun said, referring to Helms.

“Internalized stigma is what occurs when applying the stereotypes about who gets HIV, the prejudice, the negative feelings, onto yourself,” says Smith.

In 2024, 38% of people living with HIV reported internalized stigma. And studies show that it can predict hopelessness and lower quality of life, even when people are engaged in care or virally suppressed.

Internalized stigma can also affect how people practice safe sex and communicate about the virus. A 2019 survey of men who have sex with men found that individuals who perceived greater community-level stigma were less likely to be aware of—and use—safer-sex functions available on dating apps, such as HIV-status disclosure fields, as well as sexual health information and resources.

“[HIV phobia] is probably the most intense, subvert bigotry I think you could experience,” Joseph Monroe Jr., a 48-year-old living in the Bronx, told Uncloseted Media.

On dating apps, men have messaged him things like, “You look like you’ve got that thing” and “Go ahead and infect someone else.”

Monroe Jr. has also dealt with misinformed people who rudely opine about how he contracted the virus: “Who fucked you? That’s how you got it, right?” people will say to him.

“You end up internalizing all these stereotypes about who gets HIV—that you were promiscuous, that you didn’t care about yourself, that you did something wrong,” says Smith. “You carry that in, and then you have to relearn: ‘No, I didn’t. This is just a health condition.’”

What HIV Acceptance Looks Like and Raising Awareness

For those living with HIV, acceptance feels far away.

“You’re living under this threat of HIV and the threat that others find you threatening. It inhabits you socially and sexually,” Koester says. “People are hunkering down. Not putting themselves out there and having a mediocre quality of life. To have a sense of empowerment, you have to be legitimate and seen in the world and it’s hard to do that with the stigma that exists.”

Researchers say the path forward lies as much in conversation as in medicine.

Koester says she talks about HIV and PrEP anywhere she can, including in salons, cafes and restaurants. “Whenever I get into a cab with someone, I’m going to bring up HIV so the driver gets accustomed to hearing about it. … We have a long way to go in terms of exposure and awareness and every little bit helps.”

Part of this lies in increasing awareness through targeted marketing campaigns. PrEP is still profoundly misunderstood outside major urban centers, with uneven uptake among minority groups and usage gaps in the bible belt. And a 2022 U.S. survey found that 54.5% of people living with HIV didn’t know what U=U meant, and less than half of Americans agree that people living with HIV who are on proper medications cannot transmit the virus.

While eradicating stigma is slow, there is hope for acceptance.

Years after Jack’s diagnosis, in 2021, he told a man he was on a third date with that he was HIV-positive but undetectable. His date’s reply was almost casual: “Oh—is that it? I thought you were going to say you had a boyfriend or something. I’m on PrEP. You’re fine.”

“It felt so good to hear him say that and accept me,” says Jack. “I was like, ‘This is my person. You’re my person.’” One year later, they got married.

Back in Florida, 19-year-old Cody Nester isn’t feeling this acceptance. He still scrolls past profiles that read “Only negative guys” and tries to ignore the hateful messages.

“It still hurts, but I know it’s coming from fear,” he says. “I wasn’t too informed about HIV before I got it. … When I got it, I really jumped into the rabbit hole and began to learn. I really do think [HIV and stigma] is because people are not knowledgeable. … When people don’t know details, they tend to get scared.”

Additional Reporting by Nandika Chatterjee.

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