I Can’t Believe This Person Isn’t in Prison

Few things currently on television are more grotesque than the sight of Tonia Haddix, the self-proclaimed “Dolly Parton of Chimps,” sitting in a mechanical massage chair, waiting for another round of lip injections. They’re intended to look “kissable,” Haddix, the subject of Chimp Crazy, tells the camera—numbing cream cracking around her mouth—from what very much appears to be a strip mall nail salon. Instead, they look like two hot dogs left to boil for several hours.

Chimp Crazy, the new four-part MAX docuseries from Eric Goode (the same filmmaker behind Tiger King), premiered on August 18 and has since held millions captive, thanks to an undercover operation culminating in another truly wild look at the special breed of Americans who own and exploit exotic animals. But where Goode’s last subject was ludicrous, this one is loathsome.

Now imagine a cage, strewn with stray trash and largely devoid of sunlight. This is where Tonka, a 32-year-old chimpanzee of cinema fame and Goode’s other subject resides…in Haddix’s basement. Spoiler alert: Since 2022, a thriving Tonka has resided at a privately funded chimpanzee sanctuary in Florida. However, the series is hardly all happy endings.

Though Chimp Crazy is still one episode away from its finale, it’s already covered a myriad of tragic stories—from Travis, the 14-year-old chimp who was kept as a pet in Stamford, Connecticut, and in 2009, permanently mutilated one of his carers, Charla Nash, to Buck, a 17-year-old monkey who mauled the daughter of its owner in 2021. After their respective incidents, both primates were shot dead by police. If the docuseries reveals anything, it’s that there’s a definitive pattern when people—as PETA phrased it in 2021—”treat chimpanzees like Chihuahuas.” Human meets chimp, human becomes infatuated with chimp, human attempts to domesticate chimp, chimp one day snaps, chimp meets untimely (and entirely avoidable) fate. Which brings us to Haddix and Tonka.

In episode one, audiences learn that the former nurse fell in love with chimps after working with Connie Casey, owner of the Missouri Primate Foundation (aka “Chimparty”), a former chimp breeding facility. For years, Haddix—who possesses little to no qualifications for working with primates—was employed by the facility and ultimately, took over its ownership in the late 2010s. Since 1998, the Missouri Primate Foundation has been cited by PETA scores of times, with violations ranging from filthy and unsuitable enclosures to “distressed” chimps who, according to PETA, were not only a danger to humans, but to themselves.

I’ve watched chimp crazy twice now and I have two questions:
1.) Why is Tonia Haddix not in jail?
2.) Why did she let that t-ball coach give her lip filler??!

— crybaby (@urgrlkc) August 30, 2024

After 2020, Haddix found herself embroiled in a series of PETA lawsuits, and by 2021, all seven chimps housed at the facility were court-ordered to be relocated to actual sanctuaries. When the time came for the move, however, one chimp—Tonka—was missing. Haddix would later lie under oath—not to mention, on camera—that he died of natural causes following a massive stroke and was cremated. Tonka, meanwhile, was being held in Haddix’s finished basement. Goode films the entire saga as his proxy director (hired to avoid any suspicion of the project following Tiger King‘s success) forms a friendship with Haddix. All of it culminates in the startling realization that if Goode’s team doesn’t intervene, Tonka could very well meet the same fate as Travis or Buck. Fortunately, as seen at the end of the third episode, they do.

Thus far, reviews have been unanimous. The Los Angeles Times deemed it “disturbing,” the Chicago Tribune called it a “real-life horror show,” and USA Today declared it should make us feel worse than Tiger King. It’s true. If the latter made people laugh, Chimp Crazy should make them cry—not at the pathetic subculture of adult women raising chimps as their children, but for the latter, who’ve repeatedly suffered at the hands of human selfishness. After starting the series, you’d have no trouble imagining that Haddix is in prison—or a Trump rally. Call me crazy, but lying under oath about the whereabouts of a famous chimp seems grounds for some sort of immediate sentence. Unfortunately, Haddix continues to be a *checks notes* broker of exotic animals in Missouri. I’ll add that, depending on the animal, some sales go for several thousands of dollars.

Now, Haddix still owes PETA $240,000 and the organization is currently urging a judge to consider bringing perjury charges against her. If convicted, she could face up to five years—potentially more if there are obstruction charges—behind bars.

Dare I say it? The irony!