Ted learned as much when he saw more than half his Los Angeles firm vanish in a moment. His business partner, Silas, conspired to write Ted out of the practice altogether—after compelling Ted to merge their firm with another’s—all because of a rude comment Ted had made months before.

Now, Ted’s once-revered firm teeters on the brink of collapse as he and his remaining faithful scramble to pick up the pieces—and to steal back some clients Silas took in his departure.

The biggest client Ted has brought back is Lester Thompson, the famous actor who allegedly shot and killed his business partner. Despite Lester’s pleas of innocence, the evidence seems to point the other way. But if Ted could prove that Lester didn’t do it, the case might just be a big enough win to restore the firm to its former glory.

Full Disclosure Agreement

Ted hails, originally, from New York City, though he moved to Los Angeles because of bad memories and worse choices. But for fans of the original Suits series, that New York connection is just what they needed to hear to know that they’ll see some of the original series’ characters again. The creator of Suits LA said as much in an interview with TVLine, discussing how he planned to connect Ted to Suits protagonist Harvey.

And that connection tells audiences everything they need to know about Suits LA, content-wise. While the series, so far, isn’t as sexually salacious as its predecessor, kindling and current romances indicate that there’s nothing stopping the TV-14 show from heading that direction. However, our comment about the original series being full of “sour language and rampant bad behavior”? Yeah, that observation still rings true.

Suits LA brings viewers back into the cheesy world of television lawyers, where every case is the biggest one and everyone has the perfect comeback at a moment’s notice. But not all cheeses age well, and, despite the series seeming prime to give Ted a series-long bout of character growth from cocky to kind, it’ll be up to viewers to determine if Suits LA is “gouda” or not.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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Fortunately for Trevor, however, is that a mere 10 days before his murder, Jerry filed a motion with the court to transfer his entire legal practice into the hands of Mickey Haller—one of the best attorneys around. And though Mickey hasn’t worked a case since his surfing accident, he’s primed to get back into the business.

But the case is a big one, and Mickey will be taking a lot of risks in order to defend Trevor. For one thing, the evidence implicating the gaming magnate is pretty solid. And as we mentioned before, Trevor’s last lawyer was murdered and had his laptop stolen, so it’s extremely likely that whoever initiated that killing will be looking for Mickey, too.

It’s likely that the outcome of Trevor’s case will cement whether Mickey truly is the best of the best—and whether he lives to stick it on his business cards.

The Right to Remain Dramatic

Well, Mickey is as good as they say, which is why Trevor is acquitted by the end of Season One—even though Mickey learned that the man was guilty of the crime. But it was a short-lived victory for Trevor, who took a fatal bullet to the chest from a vigilante not long after.

But Trevor wasn’t the only person who met a surprise end. So, too, did Mickey’s very own friend: Gloria Dayton, murdered in her own apartment. That’s when the alleged killer, Julian La Cosse, reached out to Mickey, claiming that he didn’t kill Gloria. In fact, she had told him to reach out to Mickey in case anything happened to her.

It doesn’t take long for Mickey to corroborate Julian’s claim that he didn’t kill Gloria. The problem is that his running theory of who did is far worse: a cartel boss named Hector Moya.

And if Mickey wants to establish justice for Gloria and Julian, it’s more than likely he’ll put himself and his loved ones in Hector’s dangerous sights.

What is a “Yute?”

Michael Connelly’s Lincoln Lawyer book series follows Los Angeles attorney Mickey Haller—the Lincoln Lawyer himself, named such for working out of his Lincoln Town Car. Through his many books, Connelly engages his readers with Haller’s clever escapades as he navigates complex legal battles and dangerous ne’er-do-wells.

In 2011, Connelly’s first novel (by which the series gets its name) was turned into a movie starring Matthew McConaughey and Marisa Tomei.

Like its cinematic counterpart, Netflix’s The Lincoln Lawyer dives straight into the murky waters that only the best of lawyers—Mickey Haller included—can safely navigate. Mickey isn’t afraid to work as many angles as he can in order to ensure his clients get off with little more than a warning wag of the finger. And though his methods aren’t always conventional (and occasionally morally dubious), no one can say he never put up a fight for his defendants—even if those fights are literally life-and-death.

Of course, that’ll mean that we, the viewers, also have to join him as he wades through the dangers of his profession.

Violence is not uncommon. People are shot dead, and partially nude corpses are also seen. Harsh language is commonly used, and drugs are often referenced. Additionally, Mickey’s assistant, Izzy, is a lesbian, and Season 3’s main case involves a homosexual couple.

The Lincoln Lawyer brings us right into the middle of Mickey’s climb back into prominence following a traumatic surfing accident. The middle of this Netflix series, however, may provide enough content concerns for some parents to preemptively draw their own guilty verdict beyond a reasonable doubt.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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Those are Judge Oliver Garland’s guiding principles, and he stuck by them as a right-wing judge despite the criticisms from public and politicians alike.

He lived out those principles… until he died.

Could Oliver’s principles and Oliver’s death be somehow related?

His investigative and audacious daughter, Mariah, doesn’t buy the “heart attack” story, being well aware of her father’s medical records and political enemies.

His captious and licentious eldest son, Addison, just wants to move on with life. He’s a good older brother, but often a little too carefree and dismissive for his younger siblings.

Finally, his reserved and thoughtful son, Talcott, hears Mariah’s conspiracy out, but he has a couple other things to worry about. His wife, Kimmer, is in a political battle for a seat on one of the 13 Federal Courts of Appeals, and one of the judge’s old friends—now a convicted criminal—approaches Talcott at the funeral, asking for some “arrangements” (whatever that means). All that, and he has to come up with an epitaph.

The family is divided politically, but united morally and in grief.

Loosely based on a 2002 novel of the same name, Emperor of Ocean Park flashes back and forth along the story’s timeline from Judge Garland’s failed nomination to the Supreme Court to the present day, where the judge is dead.

While the first episode had relatively few content issues (mostly profanity-related), the plot leaves way for violent content as Mariah investigates, and sexual content as a character’s potential infidelity unfolds. In addition, there’s plenty of deceit to be untangled among politicians and criminals.

Emperor of Ocean Park is well-constructed and suspenseful, but its themes, and its language issues, are heavy. And we have no indication that circumstances will improve in the personal and political world of the Garlands.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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Or so people say. And so people think—even if it might not be technically true. Sometimes, a person can hold onto their character—and be judged by their company.

Let me break it down.

Moses Johnson is a great kid—a high school track star set to start college on scholarship in just a couple days. But he wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time. But on Chicago’s 61^st Street, it always seems to be the wrong time.

Walking home from practice, Moses sees his brother, Joshua, in a bit of a confrontation with The Nation (a local gang). As the confrontation heightens, Tutu—leader of the gang—fires his weapon in the air to punctuate a point and is immediately shot by the nearby police. When the officers demand everyone get on the ground, Moses is scared to be associated with the gang and runs.

Lieutenant Francis Brannigan has been busting The Nation’s drug dealings for some time now. Perhaps too long. Officer Michael Rossi, who works under Brannigan, is even becoming suspicious that Brannigan is ignoring a rival gang known as The Faction and their similar misdeeds.

Rossi secretly wears a wire in a meeting with the Lieutenant to hopefully catch Brannigan admitting his agreement with The Faction (one that lets The Faction roam free and puts The Nation in the line of police fire). But shortly thereafter, while chasing Moses, he trips jumping a fence and dies tragically and accidentally, leaving his partner, Logan, too distraught to question Brannigan’s misdeeds.

And given that Moses ran from the police and Rossi was found dead, Brannigan and Logan are more than willing to blame the black teen for the death of their fellow officer.

The rest of Season One revolves around Moses’ court case, and, if it goes his way, the fallout of such an unprecedented Chicago ruling (one that favors a black teen over a police officer). Black lawyer Franklin Roberts thinks this is his last chance to make a difference.

AN ‘US VERSUS THEM’ MENTALITY

The second season is shaping up to focus on the consequences of Officer Logan’s and Joshua Johnson’s respective bad company.

Logan still works in a corrupt criminal justice system that he believes failed to get justice for his fallen comrade. His bitterness and hate nearly boils over before he falls back down to Earth to face the consequences of his own actions.

Joshua, Moses’ brother, was a good kid… until he was accused of being a bad one. Figuring the authorities would always associate him with the drug-pushing gangs of 61^st Street, he went ahead and proved them right. He joined The Nation, immediately getting caught up in drugs and debt.

And the show gets caught up in its own problems.

61st Street pushes an “us versus them” mentality. Even Franklin Roberts, the hero of the story, seems to paint police behavior with a broad stroke. Those close to Franklin are upset with his tendency to use horrendous stories of Black teen’s experiences with police brutality for his own social platform and his wife’s political platform. They seem designed to encourage hatred rather than understanding and change.

On the other side, Logan’s undying loyalty to Brannigan is initially questioned by Rossi, his partner (given that Rossi firmly hoping to expose Brannigan’s dealings with The Nation’s rival gang). After Rossi’s death however, Logan’s blame-based hate fueled by Brannigan’s racist mindset spiraled out of control resulting eventually in the horrific events at the start of Season Two.

While the show avoids gratuitous gore (even the three main deaths don’t show an excessive amount of blood), the language can be extreme, and topics broached in each episode are not TV-PG. Parents wanting to introduce their kids to the wide world of crime shows with this less vulgar introduction should be ready to discuss racial violence, criminal justice corruption and the power of hate and grief.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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For Michael Desiato, a respected New Orleans judge, he will do anything. He will frame an innocent man, protect a guilty murderer, scrub away any evidence, let people die and, if it wasn’t clear yet, lie. And he spins a huge web of lies at that.

The first season of Your Honor was all about that web. As everything spirals out of control, Michael concentrates on what he still has: His son. He tells us explicitly that he doesn’t want to lie—but for the sake of his son, he will. Throughout Season One we see an image of a conflicted father living in fear and forced to lie or see his son dead.

[Spoiler Warning] But by the beginning of Season Two, we know that all of Michael’s duplicity was, ultimately, for naught. After the accidental death of his son, we see a man resigned to finally tell the truth and seek justice for his late son, and to also uncover the truth behind his late wife’s death.

In addition to Michael’s own inner conflict, problems are brewing on the streets of New Orleans between the Baxters, an organized crime family, and the Desire Gang.

Your Honor contains graphic violence, murder, suicide, infidelity, crime, drugs, drinking, blackmail, a fair amount of language and a lot of dishonesty. In addition, we find out in Season Two that Big Mo—the leader of the Desire Gang—is a lesbian, and she shares a kiss with another woman.

The show offers some spiritual asides, too. In Season One, a character (Fia Baxter, whose brother’s death sets the story in motion) questions her faith in a God who could let such a thing happen. She calls God “the all-powerful, narcissistic cynic,” and is unsure if He’s even there, much less if she loves Him. To appease her mother, Fia agrees to talk to a priest, who encourages her that God wants to have a relationship with her, even if she continues to find it difficult to believe in Him.

While the heart of the show puts truth on a pedestal, characters often seem to ignore that moral high ground, reaching instead for the much easier-to-grab lies. Even if you’re willing to wade through the moral ambiguities, with a fair amount of violence and some mature topics, this show would be something to watch without the kids.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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As Chicago’s deputy district attorney, Rusty pitted his legal acumen against people accused of crimes most heinous. He and his team would settle behind the prosecutor’s table, call forth witnesses and, step by step, build a road that pointed directly to jail.

But now, he’s sitting behind the other table—the one for those accused crimes most heinous.

I didn’t kill her! He says. But the prosecutors don’t believe him. Perhaps they don’t even care. And if Rusty and his lawyers aren’t careful, the former deputy district attorney may find himself with a new home: The penitentiary.

Habeas Corpses

Let’s be transparent: Even if Rusty didn’t kill Carolyn Polhemus, he’s not exactly innocent. Carolyn was Rusty’s trusted co-worker, friend and, ultimately, lover. The torrid affair went on for, well, far too long.

Rusty’s wife learned about the affair and their marriage survived, just barely. But Rusty’s boss, District Attorney Raymond Horgan, knew nothing about it. So when Carolyn was murdered–and with Raymond locked in a bitter election battle–the D.A. assigned Rusty, his best attorney, to the case. Rusty, despite the obvious conflict of interest, accepted—and then tried to hide any evidence that might link him to the crime.

Well, Raymond lost re-election, and now the case is in the hands of the new D.A.—Rusty’s longtime rival, Nico Della Guardia. All that evidence is trickling into view, and Della Guardia’s own lieutenant, Tommy Molto, would love nothing more than to send Rusty to prison.

And Rusty gets it. The one-time deputy district attorney knows just how vulnerable Rusty, the alleged murder, would be in court. He knows how all those texts look—texts sent the day of the murder. He knows how incriminating the physical evidence is. He knows how he’d work the jury if he was working the case.

But now, sitting at that other table, he knows something else: He knows whether he killed Carolyn. And no one else—not Tommy, not Barbara, not even the Apple TV+ audience—does. Now it’s up to the legal system to ferret out the truth, too.

Miranda Wrongs

Presumed Innocent, based on the bestselling 1987 book by Scott Turow, is a compelling crime and legal whodunit—this time featuring the always-interesting Jake Gyllenhaal in its pivotal role. (It was also the subject of a 1990 movie starring Harrison Ford.)

But while this Apple TV+ limited series features strong performances and an engrossing plot, it’s just plain gross in other ways.

Remember, this story is predicated on acts of lurid sex and horrific violence, and Presumed Innocent is guilty of showing us plenty of both.

We don’t just hear about Rusty’s affair with Carolyn; we see it—frequently. The show stresses how passionate and aggressive the couple’s physical interactions were. And while Presumed Innocent avoids showing the most critical of body parts, it has no such qualms about wholesale skin exposure, including naked rear ends.

The aftermath is just as discomforting. Carolyn was killed by a blow to the head. And even before that killing stroke, her last moments seem to have been pretty appalling. When Rusty first arrives on the crime scene, a co-worker tells him, “You don’t want to go in there. It’s bad.” But no one makes any attempt to stop the Apple TV+ cameras from entering and scanning the corpse with close, clinical glee. While we don’t see the murder itself at this early juncture—obviously, the show aims to make us wonder if Rusty is guilty or not—its aftermath is seen repeatedly and, if you ask this reviewer, gratuitously.

And the language? Well, it fits right in with the rest of it.

Presumed Innocent takes us into a tawdry and terrible story and plays it out on screen. And while the show seeks to keep us guessing over Rusty’s guilt or innocence, we can pass verdict on the show itself. And the evidence is right in front of our faces.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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What, another X-Files reboot?

Not exactly. Aliens aren’t in the offing in CBS’ Evil. And our main characters work for the Catholic Church.

IN FULL POSSESSION

David Acosta is a priest in training, hired by the Vatican to cull its backlog of potentially supernatural cases. Does John Doe really need an exorcist, or just a good psychotherapist? Is this startling event really a miracle, or just a clever fraud? The Catholic Church gets, well, legions of requests for investigation and intervention, but it can’t send out fully trained exorcists to check out all of them. So David goes out in their stead to discern which cases really deserve the Church’s attention—and which should be turned over to, say, the local police.

Dr. Kristen Bouchard doesn’t buy into miracles or demonic possession. She’s a psychologist, you see, and a lapsed Catholic to boot. The only demons she’s sure about are those we manufacture ourselves. And while Kristen might seem like an odd choice to work for the Catholic Church, David relies on her expertise. “The problem with my job is that possession looks a lot like insanity,” he tells her. “And insanity looks a lot like possession.”

Kristen may not believe, in the strictest sense, but she finds the work interesting. Plus, it pays the bills. She’s got four little girls to take care of and a mountain of student loans to repay—not to mention a husband who is frequently away. She’ll take on the occasional possession case if it means she can also keep possession of her house.

The team is rounded out by an uber-scientific investigator named Ben. While David and Kristen explore a subject’s mind, Ben taps around the environment. Are those weird, whispering noises a sign of a haunting—or just faulty pipes? Ben’s the guy to ask (though, admittedly, he always thinks the answer is “the pipes”).

But while the trio may not agree on the source of these strange manifestations they investigate, they do agree what they’re fighting: evil. Pure evil, embodied (at least at first) by the oily Leland Townsend. He, along with dozens of horrible helpmates, stirs up trouble on social media and plays into the worst instincts of the society’s most vulnerable and estranged. Is he merely psychotic? Or does he answer to a more infernal boss?

By Season Four, Leland’s still hanging around and causing trouble (as any character played by Michael Emerson is wont to do). And this time, he’s picked up some predatory tendencies. He’s managed to steal and fertilize one of Kristen’s own eggs in hopes that he’ll be the one to bring about the antichrist. According to Leland in Season Four’s premiere episode, the baby’s due in 38 days—a number which coincides both with a prophecy David received from an angel regarding the end of the world and the opening of a nearby particle accelerator…

TOUCHED BY … A DEVIL?

While most networks run screaming from the subject of religion as if it was that little girl from The Exorcist, CBS—the same network that hit paydirt with Touched by an Angel—has shown a willingness to grapple with faith in recent years. And though it was once in a thoughtful way, later seasons (now streaming exclusively on the CBS-related Paramount+) suggests that the directors have traded its respectful roots for absurd and irreverent sensationalism.

Evil, created by The Good Wife’s brain trust of Robert and Michelle King and starring Westworld’s Katja Herbers and Luke Cage’s Mike Colter, may have been its most ambitious foray into faith yet. But with its move to Paramount+ in Season Two, the show has since pushed not only pushed the envelope, but it has burned it to a crisp.

Robert King is Catholic. Wife Michelle describes herself as a secular Jew. “Our intent has always been to have religion front and center in the show. That’s the appeal of it,” Michelle told The Federalist. “The other thing that’s important to me is that we show characters with very different points of view who are willing to discuss these things and listen to each other in a respectful way. Right now, there is a lot of violent disagreement in the world and not a lot of listening with respect.”

Though the characters are indeed respectful of one another, by Season Three, the show lacks that respect for faith—particularly the Catholic Church. Even the show’s priests themselves often show a disdain or disbelief for Catholic orthodoxy. Naturally, the show has questionable bits of content as a result.

Whenever you’re dealing with demonic possession and exorcisms, things can take a turn to the scary … and sometimes the bloody. While not every episode features red stuff dripping and spurting about, it’s completely dependent on what supernatural mystery the team’s exploring in each given week. Sex, too, can be an uncomfortable plot point—in fact, it’s the central focus for the first episode of Season 3, where we uncomfortably watch David have sex with a demonic entity (one who continues to make appearances in Season Four, too). That’s not to mention that David, in order to foster a connection with God, has been known to take psychotropic substances to, ahem, encourage visions—a practice rather outside Catholic orthodoxy. We should note, too, that Kristen flat-out murdered a guy in the first season (the work of her own demonic possession). Sure, the victim was a serial killer who promised to slay Kristen’s daughters, but the act still remains.

And while the first season stayed well within the limits of network broadcast standards, later seasons show no such constraints. Like a possessed girl who breaks her bonds, Evil is pretty unfettered these days. Violence and gore isn’t unusual. Sexual allusions are more crass and more graphic. And as if to make sure everyone knows that Evil’s not on CBS anymore, harsher profanities—including the f-word—pop up much more frequently, sounding wholly inappropriate and vaguely ludicrous in the show’s procedural context.

Generally, evil is something you’d try to stay away from. And many folks will likely want to give Paramount+’s Evil a wide berth, too.

(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)

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Abby has just moved to Manhattan to be the judge for night court. She’s not a saint, but she’s about as cheerful and optimistic as one. She learned everything she knows from her father, the late Harry Stone, who was a judge in the very court where Abby now sits. And she’s ready to get her nighttime hands dirty. 

But on her first day, her public defender quits. So Abby asks her father’s former prosecutor, Dan Fielding, to dust off his suits and join her in court as the new public defender. Dan initially says no. After all, he has no interest in coming out of his semi-retirement. But a trip to his old stomping grounds has him rethinking his life. And if anyone could make Dan believe that he’s still got what it takes to defend a few cases in this very trying environment, it’s Abby. 

A Night To Remember 

It’s never too late to teach an old show new tricks, at least not according to NBC’s reboot of Night Court. A show that originally aired in the mid-80s, Night Court focused on the quirky, fun-loving judge Stone and his prosecutor, Dan Fielding (a role for which actor John Laroquette won four Emmys). 

In this reboot, Laroquette is back as Dan Fielding, and working alongside Harry’s daughter. But the rest of the cast is new. Judge Abby’s crew includes Dan as the pessimistic, crotchety new public defender; Olivia Moore as the narcissistic, judgmental district attorney; and Donna ‘Gurgs’ Gurganous as the court’s silly, easily perplexed bailiff. 

As with many NBC shows, this one seems to find its footing on slapstick humor, laugh tracks and objectionable content that ranges from sexual jokes and mild profanity to heartfelt moments and the occasional sweet spot. And Season Two opens by bringing back another character from the original: Roz the bailiff, who (in keeping with the actress’ own recent coming out) has come out as gay and is engaged to another woman.   

I’d like to say that there’s wit and charm here like the original, but I haven’t found much. The writing is weak, and the laugh track, though annoying, is sometimes necessary to cue the audience when to chuckle. But even so, we still find some sweet moments. 

The heart of this show seems to be found in Dan. He’s suffered a lot of loss in his life and genuinely dislikes people. But now he must work to see the best in people as a public defender, instead of his former work as a prosecutor. 

And then of course there’s the eternally optimistic Abby who says of people that “it’s hard not to like them when you know what’s going on underneath.” 

And while that sentiment is lovely, it may not be enough for families who want more depth and less profanity and off-putting humor.

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She played sports. She hung out with friends. She loved her parents. 

But when she turned 15, everything changed. 

Stella attended a sports camp that summer, where she found plenty of competition, tons of fun, and an attractive, older assistant coach by the name of Robin.  

After an evening of swimming together, Stella and Robin made their way to a secluded shack. And although Stella liked Robin, she had no intention of sleeping with him. Robin had other plans. 

On the way home from camp, Stella told her father that Robin had raped her. 

Her father, a pastor, wanted to press charges. Her mother, a successful defense attorney, told him that these cases never favor young women. It was pointless to go to the police, she argued. Stella cried. 

Now, four years later, 19-year-old Stella and her parents try to pretend like nothing ever happened. 

Yet, it’s impossible to ignore trauma. It forces you to take notice, everywhere you turn. 

Take Stella for example. She barely completed high school, has no desire to go to college and wants to travel the world to escape. 

Until she meets a guy on the night of her birthday–a charming, handsome, cultured older man named Christoffer Olsen. 

On the surface, Christoffer is everything that Stella has ever wanted. He is intrigued by her, he is patient and he respects her boundaries. 

What could go wrong? 

That’s the question Stella’s parents ask themselves when they hear that Stella has been arrested and will be tried for murder. 

The murder of Christoffer Olsen. 

Dark Secrets They Don’t Tell

Love. Murder. Jealousy. 

Netflix’s Swedish-language miniseries, A Nearly Normal Family, has it all. 

This TV-MA show, based on the bestselling novel of the same name by Swedish author M.T. Edvardsson, intertwines law, love, loss and death. 

It’s part thriller, part murder-mystery, part drama, and it walks viewers through how the life of each member of Stella’s family has disintegrated since her sexual assault. 

Stella feels disconnected, lacks motivation and blames herself for the horror that happened to her as a teenager. Her mother, Ulrika, has become an alcoholic who cheats on her husband to find comfort in a decision that has haunted her. Stella’s father, Adam, is overly protective of Stella and has shrunk away from his wife and daughter over the years, in shame.

This complex series also examines the lives of others in Stella’s orbit, including her best friend, Amina. It psychoanalyzes the decisions made by the main characters and even asks how things would have been different had Stella’s parents pressed charges when she was a teen. 

But the majority of the series takes place in the present. And the present is grim and full of content issues you need to know about.  

At the beginning, a scene includes rape. While it’s not as graphic as it could be, it’s enough to wince at, and it will certainly be triggering for those who have experienced sexual assault. 

We also hear a lot of discussion about women suffering sexual assault, including men drugging women and raping them. The show comes with plenty of sexual innuendo, references to sexual acts and–in one scene–Stella is completely nude, we see her from the torso up. A graphic sexual scene includes Stella’s mother and the man with whom she’s having an affair. 

In one scene, Stella goes to a nightclub filled with pole dancers and men in drag, and many people drink alcohol and dance. 

There is, of course, violence, along with some harsh profanity scattered throughout a few episodes. 

This series has most certainly been given its TV-MA rating for good reason. And just because it’s one of Netflix’s most popular shows, that doesn’t mean it’s something that’s suitable for you or your family.

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When she was a child, Gabi was kidnapped and kept in a basement–serving as a sort of slave for a man she only knew as Sir. 

One day, an 8-year-old girl named Lacey joined her in that basement of horrors. Gabi knew she had to protect Lacey. And at the opportune moment, she did just that: Gabi beat their kidnapper with a cast-iron skillet and she and Lacey ran for their lives. 

That was years ago, but the authorities never found her kidnapper. And the memories of her time in that basement still haunt her. Still, she’s trying to turn the evil that happened to her into good. 

Which is why she now runs her crisis management firm as a recovery specialist, working alongside her team to find those who have fallen through the cracks and return them safely to their homes. 

Gabi is the team lead–the brains of the operation. She uses her traumatic kidnapping, tenacity and, yes, desire for revenge to bring evildoers to justice and save vulnerable people. 

Lacey, the same girl who shared that basement with Gabi, now works for her as a sharp-witted lawyer, specializing in helping Gabi stay out of jail when her zeal for justice crosses the line of legality. 

Margaret Reed holds the office’s superpower: acute attention to detail. She honed that skill when her own son went missing when he was a boy. And it’s something she’s mastered to clue in on key details others miss.

Zeke Wallace is the agoraphobic tech expert who uses his computer skills to track down the enemy … from the safety of his own space. 

Dhan Rana is a fellow detective, pulling from his own traumatic past that included abduction, to help his team. 

And, finally, Mark Trent is a police officer who helps Gabi and her team. He knows Gabi’s doing good work, and he wants to brings perpetrators to justice, too. But he may also help because of his feelings for Gabi.

This team is unbeatable. And although the media can’t seem to get enough of these vigilantes, their behavior and one-step-ahead-of-the-law luck drives the cops crazy. 

If only it were luck. 

See, Gabi has a secret: She’s hiding her childhood kidnapper hostage in her basement. And the only way he’ll stay alive is if he helps her uncover each demented case from the perspective of a psychopath.  

They’re Either Lost or Found 

NBC’s show Found is sort of like the psycho-thriller Secret in Their Eyes, featuring Julia Roberts and Nicole Kidman. But it focuses on minority and underrepresented groups and is less demented in some ways and, so far, less graphic.

I read a lot of reviews on this show, with many critics calling it “shallow” and saying that it makes light of trauma. And to a degree it does. Yet, it presents horrific acts and nightmarish scenarios in a way that’s … digestible? 

That’s not something I could say for Secret in Their Eyes when I saw it for the first time. I was horrified and I can still recall specific details I’d rather forget. 

This show likely won’t get to that point because of its TV-14 rating and network standards keeping it just a wee bit less problematic. And for that, I’m thankful. 

Still, it’s filled with fast-paced issues. 

There’s mild violence that hints at further violence to come. There’s some smattered profanity, and characters wear revealing outfits that are typically used for undercover operations. Gabi mentions that her next case involves a trans woman. There’s also the potential for Gabi’s horrific past to reveal sexual abuse. 

And perhaps the most disturbing elements of all are the details of the kidnappings (which will vary per episode, driving this show) and the fact that a man is kept chained in Gabi’s basement–offering his demented advice to find victims. 

Clearly, that disregard for the law is a big problem. But Gabi is a strong leader who cares for those who have been through trauma, including her staff. She believes in people and encourages them to work until there is a positive resolution. 

Thankfully there’s resolution for one case at the end of the first episode. But who’s to say that will keep? We know in real life that is, dishearteningly, not always the case.

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