Earlier this year, lawyers, politicians and a contingent of journalists worked themselves into a frenzy over the effect that a new film about Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka would have on their victims' families.

Some of them are still going - notably Ontario Conservative MPP Cam Jackson, who has tabled legislation in the provincial legislature that would allow the families of Kristen French and Leslie Mahaffy to sue the distributors of Deadly for emotional distress. "Do I find it offensive?" Mr. Jackson said of the film. "Absolutely. There is a price to pay for profiting from this much grief."

The legislation, like much of the other posturing on Deadly, is absurd: True-crime films are made all the time, and to start arbitrarily censoring them on the foggy basis of "victims' rights" would be a gross infringement on our liberties. But most of us probably agree with Mr. Jackson on at least one front - trying to get some sort of sensationalist thrill out of the grotesque rape and murder of two young girls (not to mention Bernardo and Homolka's other victims) is pretty repugnant.

So by that standard, what on earth are we to make of the spectacle that's unfolded on the front pages of our newspapers and nightly newscasts of late?

It was to be expected that the release of Homolka after a dozen years in prison would prompt a firestorm of coverage. Quite rightly, the public is still furious that she got off with a far lighter sentence than she deserved. The grandstanding of provincial politicians looking to either ease or exploit that anger keeps the story alive. And obviously, the release of a serial killer into some unsuspecting community is newsworthy in and of itself.

But what we've seen in the past couple of weeks goes beyond the way crime stories are normally covered. What it is, instead, is a rather nauseating brand of celebrity journalism in which we're making a star of a notorious rapist and murderer in order to sell copy.

Through yesterday, Homolka had appeared on the front page of the Toronto Sun four out of five days. For the Sun, it's been all Karla, all the time; with a weird combination of breathlessness and anger, the paper is busily selling "never before seen photos" even as it purports to tell us how disgusted it is by her.

On Sunday, the Toronto Star decided that Karla had more celebrity pull than Justin Trudeau and his new bride (whose fame is questionable, but harmless), giving her its entire front-page and launching a massive three-part series on her life "before Paul," "with Paul" and "after Paul."

Although the Post has been more restrained than some of the others, I'd be remiss not to mention that this newspaper got into the act on Tuesday as well - festooning its front page with a large and rather flattering photo of the "unrepentant" killer reclining on a bed.

Through it all, we've been treated to an abundance of childhood photos, analysis of her love life and detailed descriptions of her clothing and hairstyles.

For those who've never picked up a copy of Us magazine, this is what an extremely macabre edition would look like.

And by appearances, there's an audience for it. Yesterday, The Canadian Press quoted a 31-year-old who turned up at a Quebec courthouse because he wanted to see her face, and a 72-year-old who was eager to see if her hair was indeed black, as reports had indicated. "We've been talking about her the last few days," the elderly gentleman attested, explaining that he just wanted "to see Karla."

Serial killers being granted celebrity status is nothing new. But what makes the Homolka coverage particularly lurid is the distinct sense that she's being afforded a certain mystique deriving heavily from her physical appearance.

It may not be conscious. Certainly, one hopes not. But if Karla looked like most inmates, rather than a photogenic blond, it's hard to imagine media outlets counting on photos of her to sell copy.

Tim Danson, the lawyer for the French and Mahaffy families, has suggested that his clients regard Deadly as "highly exploitive" and "violating." If that's how what they think of a b-movie that 99.9% of the public will ignore, one can only imagine how they feel about Homolka being thrust in all of our faces on a daily basis - something we'll only see more of as her release date approaches.

It's enough to turn stomachs even for some of us with no connection to the victims whatsoever.