A 32-year-old man who had appeared on two reality shows, is suspected of killing his onetime wife, dismembering her body and fleeing the country. International infamy ensues before the suspect kills himself.

A couple under consideration for the Washington, D.C. version of a popular reality show bamboozle their way into a state dinner at the White House, then brag about it on their Facebook pages. International infamy ensues.

It’s hardly news that reality programs seek people who have what might charitably be described as larger-than-life personalities. No one wants to watch a TV show about ordinary people doing mundane things.

From “Survivor” to “Flavor of Love,” from Richard Hatch to Omarosa, the genre has long been sustained by the clash of colorful individuals in artificially extreme circumstances.

Outrageous behavior isn’t just a prerequisite, it’s the goal.

In recent years, reality-show participants have been drawn, sometimes without the producers’ knowledge, from among those who have committed assaults, appeared in porn films, been tax cheats and deadbeat dads.

Dozens of people who have appeared on reality shows found their TV experiences so emotionally disfiguring that they sought counseling afterward. A handful have committed suicide.

But the shocking and very real incidents cited above raise new questions about what kinds of people reality shows are recruiting, and how far they’re willing to go.

Last week’s incident, involving a Virginia couple named Tareq and Michaele Salahi, suggests the answer is right up to and through the gates of the White House itself.

The Salahis appeared to have been encouraged by a desire to appear as participants on “Real Housewives of D.C.,” the proposed Bravo spoiled-rich-ladies reality series. A crew from a local production company followed the couple and filmed their preparations for the evening.

Bravo has so far declined to say whether it will air the footage, or cast the Salahis on the show, an odd silence given the uproar about the incident.

The exploitation of “psychologically damaged” people on TV predates reality programs, says Jamie Huysman, a Miami psychologist and social worker. Tabloid talk shows such as “Geraldo!” and “Jerry Springer” pioneered “confrontation” TV in the 1990s.

The genre may have peaked, or reached its nadir, with the slaying of a gay man who had confessed his “secret crush” on his friend during “The Jenny Jones Show” in 1995.

“I call them ‘disposable people’ because they’re used to get ratings and commercials and then discarded,” said Huysman, who has treated dozens of former reality-show participants.

“The TV camera is the greatest seducer in the world. It offers everyone a different dream. It’s like a heroin shot for those who are living lives of despair.”

Huysman suggests that producers address the problem before the next scandal by adopting a code of standards that would address what happens to participants before, during and after they appear on camera.

But Huysman said TV producers aren’t the only ones who need to step up. Advertisers could stop sponsoring the programs if they wanted to, he said, and viewers could turn away too.