“Actor’s Close Call with Notorious Serial Killer: Grey’s Anatomy Star’s Story”

Jack Merrill, an actor best known for roles in series like “Grey’s Anatomy” and “Hannah Montana,” is sharing his harrowing story of survival after being abducted by the infamous serial killer John Wayne Gacy in 1978. After decades of silence, Merrill has written a cathartic play titled “The Save,” which details his experience and is currently showing at Electric Lodge in Los Angeles. Now 65, he reflects on his childhood struggles and the lessons learned that ultimately helped him overcome his trauma.

Years ago, actor Jack Merrill recounted to a Hollywood producer the harrowing night in 1978 when he was kidnapped by serial killer John Wayne Gacy. “Is this how you want to be remembered?” the producer asked him. Merrill reflected, “No, I suppose not. That would tie me to him.

For decades, the actor, who gained fame for his roles in shows like Grey’s Anatomy, Revenge, and Hannah Montana, attempted to move past the assault, sharing the details of that fateful night only with his closest friends.

Remarkably, Jack Merrill survived. Just months later, on December 21, 1978, Gacy, a contractor who also performed as a clown named Pogo, was arrested and ultimately charged with the murders of 33 young men. Gacy was executed by lethal injection in 1994. Now at 65, Merrill is ready to share his survival story and has crafted a show about his extraordinary life, The Save, currently running at the Electric Lodge theater in Los Angeles—a “cathartic” experience for the actor who takes pride in his journey.

Jack Merrill

His Story

Growing up in Illinois with four older sisters in what he describes as a “unhappy” home, Jack Merrill left his family at 17 after a fight with his father. He moved into his own studio in downtown Chicago. By 19, eager to become an actor but unsure of how to start, he began working in clubs. One night, he met someone who would change his life forever. Here is his story, shared with People.

Jack Merrill

One evening after swimming, I was walking home when a man stopped and asked, ‘Want to go for a ride?’ I thought it would just be a short trip around the block, but he sped off and drove into a really dangerous neighborhood. He told me, ‘Lock your door. It’s risky here.’ I mentioned that they didn’t report this in the newspapers because it would hurt business on nearby Rush Street, and he replied, ‘How do you know, huh? You’re smart. You’re not like those other kids.’

I had never gotten into someone else’s car before, but since he thought I was different from the others, I felt compelled to go along. He stopped near the Kennedy Expressway ramp and asked if I’d ever tried ‘poppers’—amyl nitrite. He pulled out a brown bottle, soaked a cloth in the liquid, and pressed it to my face. I blacked out and, when I regained consciousness, I was handcuffed. I caught a glimpse of the Cumberland exit on the highway, near the airport, and then we arrived at his house.

He ordered me to be quiet. A light from the back of the house hit him in the eyes, and I suddenly realized how dangerous he was. I was a scrawny 19-year-old and knew I couldn’t anger him. I needed to de-escalate the situation and act as if everything was normal. This was how I survived in my childhood: we learned to keep quiet during my parents’ fights.

The house was dark. I sensed it was a trap. He asked if I trusted him and, when I said yes, he removed the handcuffs. There was a bar in the middle of the house. We drank beer and he had some strong drugs before he put the cuffs back on and dragged me down a hallway. He fashioned some contraption around my neck. It involved ropes and pulleys, set up so that if I struggled, I would choke. At one point, I began to lose air. He shoved a gun in my mouth. Then, he raped me in a bedroom. I knew that resisting was futile. I never panicked or screamed. In a strange way, I even felt sorry for him, as if he didn’t want to do this but couldn’t stop. We were in that room for hours. Eventually, he appeared fatigued and suddenly said, ‘I’ll take you home.’

He dropped me off near where he picked me up, around 5 a.m. He gave me his phone number and said, ‘Maybe we’ll see each other again.’ When I got home, I flushed that number down the toilet and took a shower. I didn’t call the police—I had no idea he was

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