“The people of Tupelo, they’re fiercely abnormal, unnatural beings. They’re carnies that I could never make sense of because nothing there is… normal,” says James Everett Dutschke in Netflix docuseries The Kings of Tupelo: A Southern Crime Saga.

Ten years ago, Dutschke, a karate teacher and Wayne Newton impersonator, was sentenced to 25 years in prison for sending ricin-laced letters to President Obama after attempting to frame Paul Kevin Curtis, an Elvis impersonator for the crime.

This is the reason Chapman and Maclain Way, two brothers from Ventura County, California, fresh from making Netflix hit docuseries Wild, Wild Country, traveled to Elvis’ birthplace in Mississippi three and a half years ago.

What they didn’t expect was a Southern fever dream involving multiple conspiracy theories such as the widespread sale of body parts and a bizarre local rivalry.

“We were vaguely familiar about this 2013 story where an Elvis impersonator from Elvis’s hometown had been arrested for trying to assassinate the President,” Chapman Way told Deadline. “That sounded absolutely bananas. We flew out to Tupelo and immediately thought it was an incredibly setting for a film or a documentary. It’s a little bit like the forgotten step child town. Everyone’s familiar with Memphis and Graceland but Tupelo has a little bit of a chip on their shoulder for being Elvis’ actual birthplace. It was extremely visual. Then getting to meet the subjects, we were immediately stunned by what incredible storytellers they were and we started learning about the grand tradition of southern storytelling, sitting by the fire and sharing stories and how they make them more dramatic.”

Dramatic is an understatement; these folk have stories to share that make Tiger King look like a newborn kitten.

The show, which premieres today, starts with the story of Curtis, who has his world rocked when, while working as a janitor discovers a severed head in a hospital fridge, that leads him down some conspiracy rabbit holes in a very nascent, AOL-kind of way. “You have your antenna up but Kevin, from the very beginning was maybe one of the most open book subjects we’ve ever had. He said to come out to his camper and we could live with him, we could film anything we wanted and ask him anything. We spent the better part of three and a half years with him and his friends and family in Tupelo.”

But parading around a small southern city with cameras doesn’t always end well, unless you’re in Mississippi.

“My honest take, being out there, was that they’re more excited about being a part of the story.  Whether they are the villain in someone’s story or the enemy in someone’s story, is not of importance to them. The fact that they are a part of such an epic southern story that they get to share at bars and get to share with friends is of utmost importance,” said Chapman Way.

Maclain Way added, “We have a small film crew but you are making a loud announcement that you have arrived in Tupelo, whether you intend to or not. People would ask what we were there for. You’d assume that they’d think we were going to make their town look bad but their eyes would get huge and they’d be so excited for this documentary. They would then start telling us stories about their connection to this 2013 Presidential assassination. That opened up a new lane, which we’ve never done in any of our documentaries, and we went to interview the town locals. It was one of the most fun parts of the whole documentary filmmaking experience.”

There are a raft of fascinating characters such as Steve Holland, the son of a judge who was set ricin letters, who served as a member of the Mississippi House of Representatives for 15 years and was also a funeral home owner accused by Curtis of selling body parts. At one point, he almost revels in being described as a Boss Hog-type character.

“Everyone had multiple versions of the story. I think it was very similar to Wild, Wild Country, where you had very staggeringly different viewpoints. The first thing you find out in this documentary is Steve Holland telling you, ‘Look, we tell stories here in the south, and sometimes we even make stuff up’. We kind of took that ethos to heart and embraced it instead of trying to fact check every little thing. We wanted to get swept up in the spirit of that,” said Chapman Way.

“It was our version of a cinematic disclaimer,” added Maclain Way.

Ultimately, The Kings of Tupelo is the story of conspiracy theories, some that seem somewhat quaint in light of the rise of QAnon, but one that highlights a major facet of American culture.

“We started on this in 2021, so obviously, conspiracy talk was starting to become more prominent at the time. Both of our characters are conspiracy theorists, to a degree, that was part of the interest as a journalist or filmmaker, and exploring more. We were really trying to capture what the journey is for someone who claims to be a conspiracy theorist without moralizing it. What is it? What does it provide? This story is an interesting look into that, we were trying to explore it in a way that that doesn’t celebrate it or admonish it, just tries to show it on its face value,” said Chapman Way.

“Kevin [Curtis] is the hardest person to offend in the world. I asked him about being a conspiracy theorist and he said he’s a conspiracy realist. It wasn’t about us wagging a finger at someone like that but asking what is that experience like for a person who actually goes down a rabbit hole. And not just for them but for his three children, his ex-wife, his brother and mother. Some people in the family might have had rough feelings about Kevin’s journey and some were very supportive,” added Maclain Way.

The three-part series looks different to many docuseries around today; from the Vegas-style lighting in Curtis’ trailer to the constant parade of Elvis Presley paraphernalia.

Chapman Way said that it was important that the series felt “experiential”. “So many documentaries can become just fact-based and information-based. We’ve always seen ourselves as filmmakers first and then journalists and documentary filmmakers. It was very important that like you feel like you experience this town the way that we see it, we want it to feel evocative, you want to be able to smell the place, there’s sense to it. Tupelo was a stage for us.”

“It’s almost like a live film stage,” added Maclain Way. “Where you can point the camera anywhere and you’re getting something that feels real and authentic because the town is real and authentic. You feel Elvis everywhere.”

When The Way brothers started out on this project, they discovered that a pair of seasoned scripted folk had the official rights to the story, which led to them collaborating with Greg Berlanti, the man behind The Arrowverse, and Dave Caplan, who co-developed ABC’s The Conners, as well as Warner Bros. Horizon, which produced the series in association with The Way’s Stardust Frames, C2 Motion Picture Production and Berlanti Productions.

“It all lined up perfectly because they were excited about working with us so we joined forced,” said Chapman Way,

The partnership could also spawn a scripted series remake of The Kings of Tupelo. “Everyone’s excited at the scripted possibility and potential. It’s such a larger than life cast of characters, and I think would lend itself really well. Even with three hours of storytelling, there’s so much that’s not included. We’re big champions of remakes, and I think there’s a really cool possibility to do something on the story that expands it even more,” he added.

Over the three parts, the pair felt like they were telling two stories; the first about Paul Kevin Curtis and the second about James Everett Dutschke, who tells his side of the tale from phone calls in prison.

“There was a holy shit, oh my God moment when we didn’t quite realize how much conspiracy Everett can talk about and how his story is part of a conspiracy and not just the small Tupelo body parts conspiracy but to the highest echelons of government. We almost had a neat bow tie on our documentary and then Everett’s interview was very mind blowing. It was almost like the ending of the documentary is a little bit reflective of our a personal journey that my brother and I have gone on as well,” said Maclain Way.

At one point towards the end of the series, Curtis says that he realized how important family was. “I realized the missing pieces was just that… family. I am no longer active in the world of conspiracy. I’m bored with it. I just want to live a peaceful, nice life,” he says.

Then, nine months later, there’s a twist. “It kind of became an interesting psychological snapshot into someone who is capable of actual violence,” said Chapman Way. “While they’re both conspiracy theorists, Kevin’s maybe a little more harmless.”