"This one's got the makin's: wine, woman, jazz, a lover," says Jake Callahan, a reporter in Maurine Watkins's Chicago, a Broadway smash hit in 1927. Jake, speaking of his great fortune at finding the story of "the most beautiful murderess," precisely characterizes Watkins's satirical take on murder and its aftermath - a view she formed while covering two similar and equally sensational murder trials for the Chicago Tribune. Watkins opens this comedy with a brutal dramatization of the same situation the women in her articles faced: a vengeful Roxie has slain her lover for mistreating her. And then the fun begins. A boring, run-of-the-mill murderess until her frank confession creates an opportunity for profit, Roxie begins a transformation to rival that of Pygmalion's statue. She is the perfect answer for Jake, who has been "prayin' for a nice, juicy murder." Rosie's attorney, too, seeks to profit from her plight. "Go out for sympathy through the press," advises Billy Flynn, who circulates a press release - supposedly written by his client - fabricating Roxie's journey "from convent to jail." Flynn also encourages Roxie to cooperate with Jake's competitor, Mary Sunshine, whose sentimental reports upstage Roxie's crime in the same way that Watkins's humorous articles did for the murderesses she was covering.

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