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Netflix’s Dept Q arrives at a time when the platform’s crime drama offerings have been more misses than hits. Viewers have sat through many flashy thrillers that promise suspense but end up forgettable. This one is different. The nine-episode series takes its time, digs into its characters and delivers a mystery worth following from start to finish.
Detective Chief Inspector Carl Morck, played by Matthew Goode, is the central figure in the series. He is anything but well-liked. A botched operation has left one of his colleagues dead and another badly injured. He has ended up buried in the basement of the newly formed Department Q, an assignment designed to keep him out of the way. He is brilliant, but also grumpy, dismissive and often outright rude. Goode plays him without sugar-coating, not attempting to hide the arrogance or the chip on his shoulder.
Paired with him is Akram Salim, brought to life by Alexej Manvelov. Salim is the opposite in almost every way. He is patient, methodical and unflappable. He listens before speaking and works by the book. The clash of temperaments could have been cartoonish, but it feels natural, with Salim constantly working around Morck’s outbursts rather than confronting him head-on.
Leah Byrne joins them as Detective Constable Rose Dickson, whose history of setbacks and self-doubt make her eager to prove herself. The trio’s dynamic forms the backbone of the series, their push and pull driving the course of the investigation.
The case in question is about the disappearance of Prosecutor Merritt Lingard, played by Chloe Pirrie, who vanished four years earlier without leaving a trace. Her name was big in legal circles, but her personal life held enough shadows to keep suspicion alive long after the initial search was called off. Department Q takes the cold file and begins to pull at threads that were ignored or missed.
The show does not yield its answers quickly. Each lead is followed with persistence rather than luck and the investigation moves at the speed of actual police work. Witnesses forget details, files go missing and personal grudges cloud the truth. The Lingard case weaves through political connections, messy relationships and old professional rivalries, none of which are neatly resolved.
Morck, for all his flaws, proves to be a relentless investigator. His problem is not a lack of investigative skill, but a lack of people skills. His abrasive approach burns bridges almost as soon as he builds any. There are moments where his ego gets in the way.
There are no magical forensic breakthroughs, or sudden confessions that tie everything together. Instead, the case moves forward through a mix of persistence, gut instinct and the occasional bit of luck. It is the kind of luck that is earned by putting in the work.
The grumpy, narcissistic detective archetype is nothing new in crime television. In Dept Q, this familiarity is the weakest link. The character works because of Goode’s performance, but the trope itself brings nothing fresh. Salim keeps the team grounded, Rose pushes it forward. The show is strongest when all three must depend on one another to solve the case.
Chloe Pirrie, though absent in much of the series, as the missing Lingard, leaves an impact in flashbacks and accounts from those who knew her. She manages to make the character feel real, which is essential for the stakes to land. The people surrounding Lingard, from political allies to personal acquaintances, are written with enough detail to keep viewers guessing about who might be hiding something.
The sub-plot about the ambush that ruined Morck’s career runs quietly in the background, surfacing just enough to add another layer of tension. It is not resolved, but it serves its purpose, i.e., to show that Morck’s demons are not just personality flaws but the result of real trauma he refuses to confront.
There are no magical forensic breakthroughs or sudden confessions that tie everything together. Instead, the case moves forward through a mix of persistence, gut instinct and the occasional bit of luck. It is the kind of luck that is earned by putting in the work. By the time the Lingard mystery reaches its conclusion, it feels like the product of effort, not convenience.
The lead’s difficult personality, while believable, can be tiring. Some viewers will find themselves wishing the show would spend more time on Salim or Rose rather than indulging Morck’s self-destructive habits. A few suspects are introduced with such obvious hints of guilt that it undercuts the tension. While the slow pace suits the realism, there are stretches where it risks losing momentum.
Be that as it may, the series succeeds in what matters most: it holds attention from the first episode to the last. The mystery keeps viewers hooked and the characters grow enough for a satisfying finale without tying up every loose end. Morck does not suddenly become a team player, Salim still has his limits and Rose’s growth feels ongoing rather than complete.
Verdict: For viewers tired of flashy, empty thrillers, this is the kind of crime drama that restores faith in the platform’s ability to deliver. It is 100 per cent worth watching.
The writer is afreelance contributor