When It's Time To Pull The Plug

Every time you turn around lately, someone's dying.

I'm not just talking about the immense toll 2016 has taken on amazing artists. I'm talking about the ongoing series of character deaths on TV shows during May sweeps.  (Possible spoilers if you haven't caught up on Bates Motel, Grimm, Orphan Black, The 100, Hap & Leonard, Quantico, The Walking Dead, Blindspot or Game of Thrones.)

I have to admit I was shocked by the death of Norma on Bates Motel. Yes, yes, of course one day her precious, disturbed son Norman would fake his mom's suicide and continue living with her mummified corpse if the TV show followed the movie; however, the TV show did put an original spin and subtly lay the foundation for Norman's most personal killing to date.

And gluing her eyelids open after he dug up her body? Creepy.

What was even worse was that Norma had recently been so happy, and Norman had been on the verge of getting real help. Just like a great noir show to show you the sun and a rainbow and then send in a tornado to tear it all apart.

Some stories swing for the fences. Orphan Black isn't even at the season's end and they've already burned it all to the ground.

Now, I'll admit that I'm not too happy about some of the losses that have been racked up this sweeps season. Pike wasn't unexpected in The 100 but he was a great character they could have done more with. And uncertainty lingers around Indra's fate.

Now, as The 100's finale reminds us, death is not the end for so many TV shows. The return of Lexa gave her a more fitting send-off than the one that had fans up in arms weeks ago. It was a nice touch in an otherwise grim season ending that has projected the end of the human race within the next six months or so.

And we all know that Jon Snow returned from beyond. Even if you don't watch Game of Thrones you've heard the news. It's inescapable.

As a writer I do appreciate stories that swing for the fences.

As a writer I also struggle with the question of killing off a character. It can be so hard to let go of someone you've developed for so long and spent so much time with. Executive producer Josh Safran said of the death of Simon in Quantico's finale:

It felt like a very organic thing, even though it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Even up to an hour before publishing the script, I was like, “Oh f—, are we really going to do this?” The writers had to sit me down and go like, “Yes, this is the right thing to do.” I personally tried as much as I could to get other people in that car and it just didn’t work. Every cast member cycled through that driver’s seat. 

When you really assess the character arc and the demands of the story and how the pieces fit together you can determine whether a character still has more life in them, or whether their death will serve as a catalyst for growth, change or motivation in those that remain. A death should always have value; it should never be cheap or gratuitous or done just to shock the viewer; it should always serve the story.

I just killed a character in a project I'm working on. It started with a plan to kill one character and as things evolved the victim did change. I was glad, because the original victim was likeable and a pleasure to write. For once, it worked out that I could kill a bit of an ass and have it fit the purposes of the story. One less victim for me to feel bad about.

Still, character losses take their toll. Many of our shows have wrapped up for the season, but now I must watch a sick Cosima without hope for a cure as the season finale of Orphan Black inches closer and closer and hope another significant loss isn't in store for that show.

But as much as the losses are hard to take, I do give a thumbs up to the shows that played it straight with us. No need to talk about the outrage over The Walking Dead's pulled punch. Yes, it could have been the show's Red Wedding. Instead it's become the symbol of fan outrage that the showrunner, creator and writers have had to try to defend, which just goes to show how important a character death can be, and how handling it can make or break how it's received by the audience.

Finding Beauty in Tragedy

by Kristi Belcamino

I like to believe that I write crime fiction for the same reasons I’m a newspaper crime reporter — no other stories have the depth and breadth of life, the joys, the sorrows, or the bittersweet poignancy that crime stories do.

Sometimes, if we do our jobs right, we are able to unearth the beautiful in the tragic.

For instance, last weekend at the newspaper was a rough one. I pissed someone off — someone who was grieving the death of a friend. When I came in to work the night shift I was handed a story about some college-age kids whose home had burned down. One kid was in critical condition at the hospital.

Shortly after I got to work, we got the news — he didn’t make it.

All his friends were talking about it on Facebook. I left a message on one page saying I was sorry for their loss and that if anyone wanted to talk to me about their friend, here was my number. I thought it was unobtrusive, but it made one girl very angry.

She asked why I didn’t wait longer before I left my message.

I couldn’t tell her the truth, which was that if we waited a day or two, at that point, a new tragedy would have captured reader’s interest. It’s awful, but true. I couldn’t tell her I had a limited amount of time and a limited amount of space to let people know a few details about this young man, to tell them something that would make him seem real to readers, so he was more than just a faceless victim. That is my job.

It isn’t always easy, but I feel a great responsibility to do this, so that when someone dies they are more than just a name in the paper.

So I just told this girl that I was very sorry for her loss and wished her well.

I also couldn’t tell her the story that makes me reach out to grieving friends and family, even when I don’t want to do so:

Years ago, I was at the Monterey (Calif.) Herald newspaper when I noticed a husband and wife had died within 24 hours of one another and decided to write a story about it.

I reached the couple’s daughter-in-law who told me what had happened: the wife had a stroke and died instantly. When the husband saw her body being taken away, he had a heart attack and died a few hours later.

This woman, Diane, told me about the love her in-laws had shared for the past 50 years. How they came over from Mexico and had worked in the fields picking lettuce since they were 18. How they raised six children and sent four of them to medical school this way.  I was immediately captured by this love story — this couple’s life story, really.

Diane invited me to come to the wake the next day so I could talk to the couple’s other children.
When I arrived, I was told Diane was on her way and to wait inside. The house was packed with mourners. I stood in the corner feeling about as awkward and out of place as I ever have in my life.

Finally Diane arrived and herded all the siblings and me into a bedroom to talk. I explained that I wanted to write about their parent’s great love story.

One of the couple’s daughters glared at me and said, “I’m not talking to you. I got nothing to say to you!”

Saying she was hostile is an understatement.

However, before long everyone was sharing stories with me and laughing and crying — everyone except the one daughter who continued glaring at me.

I went back to the office and wrote my story, adding in some quotes from doctors who said they truly believed someone could die of a broken heart.

About a month later, I got a little envelope in the mail. Inside was a thank you card:

“Thank you so much for writing about my parents. I was the one who didn’t want to talk to you. But I’m so glad you were there. Your article is now a treasured keepsake in our family. Thank you so much.”

And so that, that right there, is why I make those painful calls and visits to grieving family and friends. It’s about finding the beauty, the hope, the love, and the basic goodness of people in a tragedy. And if I don’t care enough to make that call, then who will?

My question for you writer and reader friends:

What speaks to you about crime fiction? Why do you pick up these types of books over and over or — if you are a writer — continue to pen these types of novels?