I’ve watched more documentaries than I can count, some routine, some riveting, but The Tylenol Murders on Netflix stands alone. It is a haunting, brilliantly constructed deep dive into one of the most terrifying unsolved mass murders in American history. And for me, it’s not just a story. It’s personal. This horror story unfolded in a neighborhood I knew intimately. Years earlier, I lived near 1500 N. LaSalle Street in Chicago, the same building where Paula Prince, one of the victims once lived. Even after I moved downtown to Marina City, I remained closely tied to that area as the Democratic precinct captain for the neighborhood. It was my beat. I knew the streets, the shops, the people. Paula Prince was a striking, graceful flight attendant for United Airlines. I remember her clearly. She bought a bottle of Tylenol from the Walgreens at North and Wells—a store I’d frequented many times. That bottle had been tampered with and laced with cyanide. Paula was found dead in her apartment...