In October 2025, Netflix’s Monster: The Ed Gein Story dropped with much fanfare, diving deep into the twisted psycho-history of one of America’s most notorious killers. Among its more controversial portrayals is that of Adeline Watkins—cast as Ed Gein’s confidante, romantic partner, and collaborator in darkness. Suzanna Son plays Watkins, giving life to a role that the show frames as central to Gein’s emotional psyche.
But was Adeline Watkins truly a lifelong partner or merely a footnote in Gein’s grim criminal biography? As press and audiences pored over the new series, headlines began emerging that question the very existence and nature of the relationship. Below, we unpack the key news angles, historical records, and how Monster walks the line between fact and fiction.
From its premiere on October 3, Monster: The Ed Gein Story has become a lightning rod for debate around true crime adaptation. Its producer-creators, Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan, are no strangers to artistic liberties in true-crime narratives, and they openly admit to dramatic embellishments.
One of the most persistent questions: was Adeline Watkins real? Headlines in outlets like Biography, People, and others have revisited Watkins’s claims and retractations. Biography ran a piece titled “Adeline Watkins Claimed She Had a 20-Year Romance … It Was All Untrue.” Meanwhile, Men’s Journal published “Was Ed Gein’s Girlfriend Adeline Watkins a Real Person?” exploring how much of the story enters myth.
Some media versions depict Watkins as a mysterious, tragic figure that may be more fiction than reality. Others lean into the notion that she existed but was vastly misinterpreted. The tension between dramatization and archival record is fueling new discourse on how much true crime storytelling distorts real lives.
The most substantial documentation of Watkins in Gein’s story comes from a November 1957 interview, published in the Minneapolis Tribune (later republished in Wisconsin papers). In that interview, Watkins claimed she had dated Gein for over 20 years, that he was “kind and sweet,” and that he once proposed to her (though “not in so many words”). She also recalled that they went to movies, discussed books, and even talked about murders.
Watkins’s mother, quoted in the same press run, remembered Gein as “always having her daughter home by 10 p.m.” and described him as polite.
But just two weeks later, Watkins denied the more elaborate aspects of those reports in an interview with the Stevens Point Journal. She said the story was “exaggerated… blown up out of proportion,” and claimed the actual romantic portion of their acquaintance lasted only about seven months, with just a few theater dates and occasional visits to her home (but never to his). She denied ever entering Gein’s house and rejected characterization as his intimate confidante.
So the documented record is contradictory from the start: an interview claiming a long-term romance, followed rapidly by her retraction.
True-crime analysts tend to agree that little verifiable evidence supports Watkins’s 20-year affair claims. As one Vulture analysis puts it: “The truth is that almost nothing is known about Watkins other than she knew Gein and once said in an interview that they had briefly dated at different times in her life. But she later recanted.”
Even as Monster frames Watkins as a pivotal figure—introducing Gein to morbid fascinations and acting as a catalyst for his descent—the show acknowledges the uncertainty in its final episode. Ryan Murphy has said they considered revealing Watkins as entirely a figment of Ed’s imagination, but felt that approach undermined emotional depth.
Charlie’s Hunnam interpretation supports this ambiguity: “My interpretation was that she’s in a large part a fantasy of Ed’s.”
Historian commentary echoes that. Some believe Watkins was a peripheral acquaintance of Gein who shared common cultural interests (books, film, small talk about news), and that the more intense romantic narrative is journalistic sensationalism.
Perhaps most telling is what Ed Gein never said. Gein never publicly confirmed any romantic relationship with Watkins. In the vast trove of police interviews, psychological evaluations, and his later mental institution writings, there is no corroborating mention of a long-term love affair.
Given that Watkins’ claim surfaced after Gein’s arrest—and was retracted shortly thereafter—many criminologists treat it as an unreliable anecdote rather than a historical fact.
Netflix’s series does not present Watkins as a minor footnote. In Monster, she is woven deeply into Gein’s psyche: a kindred spirit who shares his morbid curiosity, goes on grave-raiding excursions with him, and pushes him into darker terrain.
The show takes major dramatic license:
- Watkins is portrayed as an instigator and intellectual companion, sometimes planting ideas in Gein’s mind.
- She is present in scenes of violence and even joins Gein in desecrations—though documentary evidence strongly suggests she never entered his house or participated in crime.
- The show introduces a blurred reality: at times, it’s ambiguous whether Watkins is a real person or a manifestation of Ed’s fractured psyche.
The creators themselves have emphasized that they embraced uncertainty. Murphy described Watkins as “based on a real resident … but information about her is thin.”
Thus, Monster deliberately operates in the space between fact and myth—using Watkins as a narrative lens to dramatize Ed Gein’s interior darkness, rather than as a strictly documented historical figure.
The media coverage in October 2025 reveals several themes worth noting:
- Reckoning with True-Crime Responsibility
Many articles question the ethics of turning ambiguous real lives into dramatic fodder. Headlines like “Adeline Watkins Claimed… It Was All Untrue” or “Was Ed Gein’s Girlfriend Adeline Watkins a Real Person?” suggest that honoring the difference between verified record and speculation matters. - Sexy Mystique vs. Sparse Evidence
The idea of a secret romance adds emotional weight to a cold, depraved subject. But as outlets note, Watkins’s own retraction and the lack of primary corroboration leave little foundation for the myth. - Adaptation as Interpretation
Many reporters call attention to how Monster consciously blends fact and fiction, occasionally doubling down on dramatic speculation. This framing gives Watkins a central role she likely never held historically.
With audiences drawn to serialized true-crime, articles emphasize how Monster reintroduces Gein’s story to a new generation. Watkins’s character becomes a point of intrigue in that reintroduction.
In short, the headlines reflect a tension: how to dramatize real horrors without overstepping into fabrication, and whether Watkins’s storyline enhances or distorts the true tale.
Based on all available evidence, a balanced conclusion is this:
- Yes, she existed.
Adeline Watkins was a real resident of Plainfield, Wisconsin, mentioned in 1957 press reports. - Yes, she had some contact with Ed Gein.
The 1957 interview claims that she and Gein knew each other over a span of years, occasionally met socially, and that he once made a tentative proposal. - No solid evidence demands a 20-year romantic relationship.
Watkins soon denied much of the more elaborate narrative, saying the story was “blown up.” She claimed the romantic portion lasted only a few months, with minimal interactions. - No evidence exists that she participated in Gein’s crimes, nor that she was ever harmed.
There is no credible record, police documentation, or forensic link placing Watkins in Gein’s house or tying her to his acts of murder and body mutilation. - Her place in the public imagination owes more to retelling than to archival proof.
What Watkins represents in Monster is less a person we can verify, and more an idea: the emotional mirror, the enabler, or the haunting specter in Gein’s mind.
The Adeline Watkins question is emblematic of a broader issue: how true-crime media negotiates the boundary between history and storytelling. When shows dramatize speculation, they risk:
- Distorting real lives. Watkins did not consent to become a central character in a horror drama. Elevating speculative narratives can warp public memory.
- Blurring fact and fiction. If viewers take Monster’s portrayal at face value, they may believe strongly in a romantic narrative where none is demonstrably supported.
- Erasing nuance. The real Ed Gein story is harsh, shocking, and complicated on its own merits. Turning every unknown into a dark romantic plot risks oversimplification.
On the flip side, proponents of adaptation argue that narrative license — so long as creators disclose it — can illuminate themes and emotional truths that pure documentation cannot. In this show, Watkins becomes a device to explore loneliness, obsession, and the hunger for connection in a broken psyche.
By spotlighting Watkins, Monster also engages in rehabilitating the peripheral figure into a central figure—a technique not uncommon in popular adaptations. But that comes at the cost of historical clarity.
Adeline Watkins is real, but the sweeping narrative of a 20-year romance with Ed Gein is almost certainly fiction—or at least, wildly exaggerated. Her retraction, the lack of corroboration, and Gein’s silence strongly suggest that she was at most a casual acquaintance, not a secret partner in horror.
Monster: The Ed Gein Story embraces that ambiguity, using Watkins as both a character and a metaphor. But the media storm around her—highlighting claims, counterclaims, and audience fascination—underscores a vital lesson: in true crime, sometimes what is unsaid is as important as what’s claimed.
In this way, the real story of Watkins is less about her romantic role (which remains unverified) and more about how modern audiences reconcile truth with myth, and how we reshape horror legends to reflect what terrifies us today.
