The Closer Blog

What a year it's been for the Closer family!

Thank y’all so much for your continued support and interest. As our regular season ends tonight (we're still editing and working on our two-part December special), we can look back at our summer (and ahead to this evening) and answer a few lingering questions.

For example, in "Ruby," the story of a little girl murdered and raped by a serial child molester, many of you noted that though the confession was written with one hand, the suicide note was composed with the other. How did this happen? What did it mean? Was our villain summarily dispatched by the LAPD?

Actually, the mystery is more mundane. Our guest star in that particular episode, the talented Heath Freeman, is ambidextrous! We didn’t notice it at the time, but many of you picked up on it right away. We should have been more vigilant.

Why didn't Fritz tell Brenda he was an alcoholic before? And how long has this twist in our story been planned?

On the first day of shooting, in the first scene of The Closer committed to film (like other television projects, we often shoot out of sequence), Jon Tenney's character, Fritz Howard, waits downstairs in a hotel lobby bar for a catch-up drink with newly installed LAPD Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson. Jon elected to have a mineral water and suggested to me that, just perhaps, Fritz didn't drink (which would help explain his character’s loss of 30 pounds). I went with Jon’s suggestion. And for three seasons, we held off discussing Fritz’s bout with alcoholism based on my personal experience with a friend who married a man who had kept a previous substance-abuse problem secret; it finally came to light when a related bankruptcy threatened his new wife's credit rating. Yes, these things happen. People who watched the premiere should have no problem guessing the end, since The Closer tries very, very hard to match its endings to those of its beginnings.

In so far as the trial in our two-part finale goes, yes, LAPD officers often sit at the prosecutor's table during jury trials of the criminals they arrested. The investigating detectives often have a perspective on witnesses that DAs find invaluable.

Lawyers, in California anyway, are not allowed to approach the witness any closer than from the podium from which they ask questions. This explains our stationary lawyers. Our consulting producer, Gil Garcetti, former district attorney for the county of Los Angeles, was immovable on this point.

We stopped shooting the last Thursday in August, but that doesn't mean The Closer family has completely dispersed. Kyra Sedgwick has gone back to New York briefly in order to accompany her son to his first day at college: a bittersweet end to one phase of motherhood. She'll be back in L.A. next weekend for her second Emmy ceremony, since she is once again nominated for best actress in a dramatic series.

G.W. Bailey has been escorting the Sunshine Kids all over Los Angeles — taking them to Disneyland, Wicked (the musical), the beach and the set of The Closer. For those of you who don't know, G.W. is the president of the Sunshine Kids Foundation, which organizes and provides field trips for kids fighting cancer. Aiding G.W. in this endeavor, one way or another: Michael Paul Chan, Raymond Cruz, Gina Rivera, Phillip P. Keene, Mike Robin, Andy Sacks (our line producer), Robert Gossett, J.K. Simmons, Tony Denison, Corey Reynolds, not to mention the never-ending efforts of Det. Mike Berchem, my writing partner and our technical adviser.

Last week, the Sunshine Kids arrived at The Closer set via police motorcade and were sworn in as deputies. They had a fun morning in Brenda's office and then went to the beach. This is, after all, L.A. Our crew also gave a big assist. Most of you probably know that G.W. was one of my acting teachers in high school. He continues to inspire children. And me.

Kyra's work for the Sunshine Kids has moved others to get involved. There are worse things one could do with their off-season. She also has a Disney movie opening shortly: Game Plan, starring The Rock. It looks like a ball! Her husband, Kevin Bacon (kiddingly known around our set as Mr. Sedgwick), who's now directed two episodes of our show (did you like the confession in the elevator: Kevin shot it!), is also lighting up local screens. Not only is Death Sentence in theaters right now, but Rails and Ties will open in early October.

Hunt Baldwin and John Coveny, two of our coexecutive producers from the writers’ room, have a pilot for TNT that they will be shooting with Greer Shephard and Michael Robin next month. Currently titled Truth in Advertising, it promises to be a fantastic show. Personally, I must hope the pilot gets picked up to series and runs for eternity, because they are such good friends and have worked so hard to make The Closer what it is today. But they are irreplaceable, and that means I must spend a great deal of the next two months searching for new voices to add to those of Adam Belanoff, Mike Berchem, Steven Kane, Michael Alaimo, Duppy Demetrius and Ken Martin, just in case Hunt and John’s much deserved success prevents their return for Season 4.

Among other firsts this season, I finally directed an episode of our show (at the insistence of my producing partner, Mike Robin): the second half of our Christmas two-parter, "Next-of-Kin." Scheduled to air in early December, "Next-of-Kin" takes our protagonist back to Atlanta in search of a runaway fugitive. I don't want to give away too much of the plot, but it involves Brenda, her parents, Fritz, Provenza and Flynn driving back to Los Angeles form Georgia in an RV with an occasionally violent suspect and some missing Perry Como holiday CDs.

So even though we say goodbye to our regular season tonight, we'll be back for some "season's greetings" this December.

As for Corey Reynolds, my new neighbor, well, he's popping by my house sometime in the next few minutes for coffee and a bit of chitchat. We will no doubt scratch our heads in wonder at just how lucky we are to have an audience like you. And, also, think about how sad it is that we are done for the year. Each one seems to pass so quickly.

But while we’re off the air, we'll be thinking up brand-new episodes and more fun and interesting cases for the crew at Priority Homicide. In the meantime, from Kyra and Mike and Greer and the rest of our cast and crew, as well as our good friends at TNT and Warner Bros. Television, we say thank you so very much for your kind support, and we'll be back to visit at Christmas. And all summer long in 2008.

Till then,

James

I'm often asked why The Closer seems so retro. "Isn't it," some journalists inquire, "a throwback to another era?" Well, no. It only feels that way because other popular procedural shows are culled from the future. There aren't many lasers working in the Robbery/Homicide Division of the LAPD. A new crime lab is under construction for Los Angeles County and, when it's done, the people who work there will not be interviewing suspects or solving murders. Or working in the dark. In sprawling glass offices.

The sci-fi fantasy world of CSI intrigues and amazes; it's a fun alternate universe. And the heart-pumping score dazzles. But the many variations of CSI are not based on reality.

Our sets, for example, look like those of a public building because we used Parker Center (LAPD's actual headquarters) as a model. At Parker Center, you will find no lasers or microscopic lenses or instruments that allow one to determine a single French fry's restaurant of origin.

The people pay for the offices of law-enforcement officials through their taxes; that's why, in life, squad rooms seldom look as fashionable as they do on screen. Parker Center, for example, has been condemned. It has asbestos problems. We have added surveillance cameras to their elevators as a public service, but they do not yet possess them.

Brenda often gets reprimanded by fans for lying to murder suspects. But lying is, paradoxically, the only way (sometimes) one can get to the truth. Legally, detectives can lie to your face, just like, legally, you can lie to theirs (though it's against the law to knowingly misstate the truth to federal agents).

In one episode last year, Brenda angers the LAPD by refusing to move the body of a fallen officer until she's examined it. Some who read the script objected to this particular story point: "You never move the body before the investigators see it." Actually, this is not true. You never leave a police officer lying dead on the ground, especially not if he or she has fallen close to the killer; doing so is considered dishonorable.

Another complaint: "How can Brenda question so many people without an attorney present? It's not realistic!" Well, again, over 75 percent of all criminals fail to demand an attorney before being interrogated, mostly because they think asking for a lawyer will make them look guilty. And they think they can outsmart the police anyway.

"Why don't you use more DNA evidence? DNA is central to convictions in modern crimefighting!" Again, this isn't quite true. DNA doesn't so much solve cases as it matches up with the criminals once you find them. Yes, there is some DNA on file, but much, much, much less than you might suppose. Find the criminal and then, if you can put his DNA at the scene, you have a good case to take to court.

The truth is, law enforcement has not fully integrated the modern era's technological advances because it can't afford to do so. We are retro because the world is not yet as we imagine or hope it will be.

One final note: Here in Closer-land, we are very proud that Kyra Sedgwick has once again been nominated for an Emmy as Best Actress in a Drama Series. We love our leading lady and her performance as Brenda is, to all of us, inseparable from the show's success.

Many, many thanks to Matt and those of you who have posted such positive feedback about The Closer, our most recent episode and our new season. You can't imagine how encouraging it is to have so much good credit from those who follow the show. On behalf of Mike Berchem, Steven Kane and our resident genius, Michael Robin, who directed "Ruby" and brought it to vivid life, and an amazing cast led by Kyra Sedgwick, I send you back our most sincere thanks.

On a personal note, I have been home sick for the last five days recovering from a ridiculously serious cold, so all of your messages mean even more to me than usual. So, so kind of everyone to take time from their busy lives to post their thoughts.

I'm being rather sternly ordered back to bed as I type this, but expect to hear from me again this weekend on the subject of criminal interviews and just why The Closer feels a little retro to some journalists. 'Til then, again, our thanks. — James Duff

Unlike writing for novels or the stage, composing scripts for television is a group affair. Our team this year is a tight-knit, determined family, just like our cast, and it takes everyone in “the writer’s room” (and a few people outside it) to make Brenda Leigh Johnson as smart as she is.

The story telling starts in a medium-sized rectangular conference room adjoining my office, bordered on three sides by different-sized white, dry erase boards. When blank, these boards reflect the glare from the fluorescent lights (whenever someone accidentally switches them on) that burns-out every creative instinct known to humanity. Trying not to be overly daunted by the bright blankness is our first challenge. Our next is filling the empty space with a story worth your time.

First, we pick a crime that tests our protagonist and her team of detectives. Then we figure out how and why that crime was committed. Det. Mike Berchem, our co-producer, technical adviser – and still an active member of the LAPD’s elite Robbery/Homicide section - shines at this aspect of our work in a way that defies superlatives.

After we have our murder, we construct our killer and their individual crime scenes (something else we discuss in endless detail).

Then we talk about what the crime represents; what theme does it call to mind; how do its motives register in our own hearts? Can we identify, in some way, with the criminal and his or her actions? And what sort of challenge will this new murderer present Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson? How will this challenge reverberate through her life? How far will she go to overcome it? How will the other characters react? How will their reactions impact the solution to our mystery? And how is Brenda adjusting to Los Angeles? To Fritz? To Pope? And, this season, most importantly, to Sgt. David Gabriel?

And what will be the “tone” of the episode? Is it an Adam Belanoff special, with echoes of McHale's Navy? Is it that kind of twisty, emotional roller coaster that Hunt Baldwin and John Coveny build? Is it grim, dangerous and bloody: maybe Mike Berchem and I had a hand in that. Though Steven Kane finds the demons, too, and has an easy way with horror I admire. Duppy Demetrius brings his own special form of dark humor to the table, along with a relentless insistence on logic. And if there is any single person in our room who can spot and illuminate the paradox of the “ordinary murderer,” that would be the gifted Michael Alaimo. Ken Martin generally holds each of our stories together, taking notes on everything that's said until peeling off to write his own script. Generally speaking, if it doesn't make sense to Ken, we have to rephrase everything until it does. Maddening, and good for us all.

Gil Garceti, our the former district attorney for the County of Los Angeles helps keep us honest as we take the story of the board, turn it into a twenty-five to thirty page prose treatment, then translate that document into a script.

Through the process, our studio, Warners, and our network, TNT, keep asking us good questions about what we're trying to do. And their thoughts and issues help us deliver stories that are unique to our show.

After we have a draft of the script we propose to shoot, the directors and actors weigh in, giving us their own feedback on the scenes. You can't imagine how important it is to listen to the people who have to say the words. We have great actors; they have great instincts; working with them on the scripts makes the story better. And great moments come from collaborating with the interpretive artists on our show. Directors discover depths to scenes we never dreamed were there. Our job is to take all those different thoughts, all the different colors and focus them into one bright, white light…

...like that light reflecting off the blank eraser boards in the writer's room, where we gather to start another story of The Closer.

Truthfully, we're a team. Write across the board (if you don't mind the pun). And the best of our shows have a little of everyone in them. And that's the way we like it.

Speaking of the best of our shows, the most excellent episode of The Closer we have made so far will be airing this Monday and, in its first appearance, will run over the hour. Ever after, it will be shown in the necessary network format, fully nine minutes shorter than the original. If you want to see this episode at its best, I suggest you tune in Monday night at 9 pm, 8 pm Mountain and Central when it first premieres. And, if you’re taping the program, make sure your Tivo or DVR or VCR/DVD recorder is set to go well over the regular hour.

By now, you're probably well aware that while watching The Closer's third-season premiere, you helped make television history. For the first time ever, a scripted series on basic cable won its time slot in the ratings, and Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson of the LAPD's Priority Homicide Division solved her case in front of a record number of viewers. Thanks so much for putting us first! You can't believe what an energy boost that was for our cast and crew. So, thank you. Thank you very much.

Almost 25 years ago, while having lunch at a New York restaurant, I met with one of the greatest stage actresses in American history. Two-time Tony winner Frances Sternhagen was interested in doing a play I was about to have produced on Broadway. I was thrilled.

But since theater moves at a glacial pace, we ended up doing the show in London first, and by the time we had brought it back to the Great White Way, Franny and I were very close friends. She was genius in the part and I had wanted to work with her again, but time and distance thwarted every design.

A few months after The Closer ended its first season, Franny asked if I'd thought about giving Brenda a mother. In fact, she left a long phone message in the Southern accent she'd recently perfected in a revival of Bobby Harling's Steel Magnolias. It was hilarious. I played the recording for my partners and, as a result, last year she starred in two episodes as the indefatigable Willie Ray Johnson.

One of the benefits of having Franny do the show, of course, is her brilliant performance. But since she stays at my house during filming, I get a chance to catch up on all of her globe-trotting (treks through Turkey, safaris through Kenya). Last night around 8 o'clock, she showed up downstairs in the jungles of L.A., and I carried her luggage up to what we call the "Franny guest room" while she chatted sweetly about the Russian driver who picked her up at the airport (and wants to be an actor). And I thought again: How lucky I am to have this opportunity — to be working on a show that's bringing my professional and personal lives together in amazing ways.

This year, Franny shares the screen with Barry Corbin (of Northern Exposure fame), who portrays Brenda's father, Clay. And though I've never met him before, Barry has a small ranch just 10 minutes from the front door of my parents' house in Arlington, Texas. I've just watched Barry and Franny's first rehearsal with Jon Tenney and Kyra and it was both moving and funny to observe two great pros at the top of their game guesting as family. All together we'll have them for four episodes, and so the "Franny guest room" at my house will be filled with her wonderful spirit, and the dinner table with her hilarious anecdotes, for several weeks this summer.

Look for Clay and Willie Ray later in the season as, in tonight's episode, Fritz does something that makes it all but certain he and Brenda's father will have to meet.

And thanks again to all of you who wrote in your thoughts about our season premiere. Next week, I'll be introducing some of our writers and talking about what happens when we all sit down in a room together to create an episode of The Closer.

This coming Monday, we begin the uninterrupted run of our third season of The Closer, a show I created and produce with my partners, Mike Robin, Greer Shepherd, Andy Sacks and — wait for it — the dazzling Kyra Sedgwick. Luckier still, these good people are not just my business associates and creative collaborators, but they are also my friends. And though we did not see each other daily during the off-season, we stayed in touch by appearing at G.W. Bailey’s benefits (with Tony Denison, Gina Ravera, Raymond Cruz and Michael Paul Chan) for the Sunshine Kids; playing in charity poker tournaments for the school where J.K. Simmons (now appearing in Spider-Man 3) sends his son; applauding John Tenney’s powerhouse performance in David Mamet’s Speed the Plow at the Geffen Playhouse this winter (this was really fun); and gathering to watch Kyra claim a Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Television Drama for her work on our show.

During the first week of last December, the writers returned to work. Other departments — production design, locations, casting, costumes — quickly followed. Finally, the cast appeared. During the last week of February, we stood together on a soundstage as our resident genius, Michael Robin, called action for the first shot of Season 3. By the time you watch the premiere, we will know exactly how our last episode ends, and I can promise you one thing: Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson is in for one hell of a summer. She discovers almost an entire family stabbed to death inside their locked house. The trunk of a car shows up in her interview room. An 8-year-old girl disappears on her way home from summer school. Extra bodies roll out of caskets. An elderly man claims to have poisoned more than a half-dozen people from his retirement home.

In other words, it's business as usual inside the LAPD’s Priority Homicide Division as Lts. Provenza, Flynn and Tao, Sgt. Gabriel, Dets. Sanchez and Daniels, Commander Taylor, Assistant Chief Pope, Civilian Surveillance Coordinator Buzz Watson, and Special Agent Fritz Howard are back on the job helping Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson through her professional and personal ordeals. This year Brenda's challenges will include budget cuts, reduced overtime and some unexpected health issues as she attempts to get a strange assortment of murderers to say those three magic words: “I did it.”

I’ll return here, too, later this week. And thanks for asking us back for another season.

One of the elements in the formulation of every Closer episode includes a strict adherence to theme. First, there is the 13-week arc, the overriding motif that we explore throughout a season. And then there are the smaller questions — or sometimes even just a word — that we turn this way and that throughout each individual episode.

For example, our first year was all about being a woman in a world dominated by males, hinted at by the crime itself (spoiler alert if you’ve never seen the pilot), which featured a female who had lived her life as a man.

In “Blue Blood,” the second-season premiere, we signaled a serious examination of the word "partnership." Having won over her squad, Brenda had to learn to treat them equally. And her personal life was suddenly thrown into turmoil as questions about her current and past relationships came to the fore. Naturally, the mystery itself involved partners, but then there were tiny things that helped us embed the theme more delicately, like the éclairs she received from Lt. Tao, which came in a pair; one gets eaten and the other thrown away (not unlike what happened to the partners at the heart of that story’s crime). At the episode's end, Brenda confronts her own reflection — her shadow-self, the only partner one has through every minute of one’s life. And she smiles uncertainly. Perhaps she has trust issues.

One of the joys related to a smaller regular season is the ability to examine a word like partnership in depth, and from several points of view, without exhausting its potential. Structurally, it also gives us an overlaying tautness to our little mysteries. It’s not important that an audience member consciously recognize these themes, because we honestly attempt to dramatize them so completely that, like a house’s foundation, you never actually see them, though everywhere you step depends on how well these so-called foundations were laid. Very often, too, knowing the theme helps solve the mystery. What, for example, is the most important issue in maintaining partnerships? We can’t say for sure; we can only provide you with Brenda’s idea of the answer.

Our finale brings our meditation on partnerships to a conclusion while allowing me remind you how the season began. Brenda’s first mystery started with a murderer and the law-enforcement officer who had been looking for him lying dead on the floor just a few feet from each other. And both men, to varying degrees, had been betrayed by people they trusted. And there was an informer, whose safety was at risk, in this toxic mix. Those of you who recall how our first season began and ended may consider yourselves duly warned.

Look for our two-parter in December, which will run, at first, all on one night. And then we’ll be back next summer with a fresh look at our characters and a new theme to explore. Until then, our thanks to TV Guide and all of you who watch the show. Your comments here (and at the Watercooler) continue to inspire everyone who works in Closerville. So from Kyra, Mike, Greer, Andy Saks, J.K., Corey, Robert, G.W., Tony, Gina, Ray, John, Michael Paul, Phillip and our amazing cast of recurring and guest-star actors, we bid you a reluctant farewell. Come back Christmas and next June and we will, again, spend the holidays together.

I had not been to the Emmy Awards since the early 1990s, when I was nominated for writing the television movie Doing Time on Maple Drive. And I have never joined the Academy, either, mainly because I find its Byzantine rules nearly impossible to understand. Also there are moments, like sitting through a three-hour ceremony in an auditorium that lacks a decent air-conditioning system, when there seems to be a few too many categories. And many of these categories simply don’t exist.

I’ll give you an example. In series television, outside of pilots, there really isn’t anything remotely resembling an individual achievement in writing. Story, character, plot, theme and dialogue: all these and more are formulated in “the writers' room.” In addition, scripts are often substantially rewritten by a show-runner, even though the name of the original author may still be on the title page. In other words, the credit doesn’t change, but the work is often largely by someone else! On the very few shows where this is not the norm, there are still so many notes given, and so much polishing done, that no one person can usually stand up and say, “That’s all me!” Besides, the main characters in any series are already well established; their behavior and vocabulary are deeply embedded in the show’s DNA. So why give an award for individual achievement in writing? Well, it's because they do it at the Oscars! Best writing for a drama or a comedy should be a staff award, just like it is for comedy/variety/musical. Speaking of which, how ridiculously broad is that category? And why doesn't American Idol qualify as a musical show and have to compete against people who race around the world, or sit on an island while plotting to win a million dollars? Or why aren’t these all considered prime-time game shows?

Ellen Burstyn’s nomination for Best Supporting Actress in a Made-for-Television Movie or Miniseries (I’m exhausted just typing the category name) for a part that consisted of one scene and 38 spoken words, would seem to be proof that the winnowing process instituted this year may not have worked so well.

Worse, the notion that lead and supporting performers in a series can submit only one episode a season must be considered ridiculous. A series role is not like a character in a movie because the actor must be able to deliver a multifaceted performance over a much longer period of time. When asking why James Gandolfini and Edie Falco weren’t nominated for their brilliant portrayals in The Sopranos, the answer has to be that the single episode on which each was judged had to be deemed, somehow, unworthy of notice.

These arbitrary rules are instituted for the convenience of the nominators. Worse, like the individual achievement in writing, they ape the Oscars: further proof of television’s continued inferiority complex.

Naturally, even though the Emmy process is absurd, one still wants the award. It’s our nature, I suppose, to desire trophies or special notice, regardless of how silly and vain we know such commendations are. And Americans are a little bit award-happy. On Sunday, someone won an Emmy for producing the Oscars!!!! And that’s just nuts.

Would I be writing all of this if Kyra had won Best Leading Actress in a Drama this year? Of course not. I would have kept my criticisms to myself while reflecting on just how lucky we had been to obtain the extra publicity an Emmy Award confers on its honoree. And I would never have hurt Kyra’s chances by voicing my own doubts before the envelope was open. But the Emmy is one award that needs to be seriously rethought if it’s to sustain the support and the interest of the industry it purports to honor.

To the patient reader of these pages, I apologize for my long absence and offer as an excuse the all-consuming hours necessary to write and produce a show during the height of The Closer’s shooting season.

For the past seven weeks, with very, very few exceptions, I have risen at 5 am and trotted downstairs to my home office to begin the arduous ordeal of helping Brenda through another investigation. Whether passing on someone else’s script or writing one of my own, the process of delivering production drafts of The Closer is my first priority and, also, the assignment I have the least time to perform during normal working hours. Therefore, nearly every minute I get at the keyboard must be stolen before the workday begins (or made up for during weekends, which are reserved solely for this purpose).

While the writing of outlines and scripts continues, prep on completed episodes begins, almost always with a casting-concept meeting. Greer, Mike and I sit down with Bruce Newberg to discuss characters and try to match them with actors.

Then the heads of the locations and production-design departments come by to exhaustively discuss where to shoot scenes not located on our standing sets. Do we build an apartment, or go to a real apartment building? Where will we find this week’s crime scene?

Next is the all-important preproduction meeting, where folks from all departments gather to try to figure out how to manage that tricky transfer from page to stage. Will Brenda need her glasses in this scene? Will we need a crane for the camera at the beach? How far does the blood pulse out of the body when the jugular vein has been cut? Are the mosquitoes particularly thick near the L.A. River in the early morning?

After this meeting, the script (which has already gone through outline, notes, draft, notes, second draft, notes, studio draft, notes, network draft, notes) usually has to be slightly rewritten to address the physical constraints of production.

Then casting begins. For three hours a day and for three or four days an episode, we gather with directors to audition potential guest stars. After we hear the dialogue spoken out loud, we also usually rewrite a little.

We also start examining and approving sets and locations based on pictures and drawings. Locations have to be “tech-scouted” in order to determine whether and how they stand up to an invasion of equipment, actors and vehicles. Naturally, too, the rental price is often a determining factor.

The costume meeting is always entertaining since our designer, Greg LaVoi, and his team have their own handle on our new characters and their relationships with Brenda, Gabriel, Pope, Fritz and our other regulars. Also, in cases of stunts, or when clothes are going to get messed up, we have to discuss double and triple backups of certain garments.

Then we have a video and stills meeting. What pictures do we need for the Murder Board in this episode? What kind of photographs do we want of suspects and witnesses? Which of Brenda’s interviews are to be conducted with observers in the Electronics Room? When will crime-scene photos be available? When should we get morgue shots?

Every episode includes its own “Detective Mike” meeting, during which we rigorously discuss how we should film the crime scene so that what we document fits with police procedure. How many morgue vehicles will we need? How many black-and-whites? How many Crown Vics? What can our characters actually discern from examining the site? Which way would the body have fallen? Where would the work lights go? There are too many questions to list them all here (generally about five pages' worth per episode). After this meeting, the script gets rewritten again.

Next we hear from Mr. Gil Garcetti, the former district attorney for the County of Los Angeles, who calls in with his own issues. Gil invariably asks questions that lead to better storytelling. The obstacles he throws in the path of a script lead to more surprising and gut-wrenching endings than we otherwise might have achieved. And, after we talk to Gil, we rewrite.

Now we have the big production meeting, where we go over everything we’ve learned and get updates on the information we’ve disseminated throughout the week to all the department heads, including props, set dressing, transportation, makeup and hair. This meeting, led by one of our two assistant directors, includes representatives from the studio and the network. After the production meeting, there’s a little rewriting.

Costume show-and-tell follows, where we see and approve what each character will wear as the show progresses.

Finally, all the actors in the episode are invited to a “table read” during crew lunch. We listen to the script as our cast and guest stars try out our words. Afterwards, we rewrite again.

And the very next day, this whole process starts over again on another episode.

Now, the schedule I’ve just outlined for you doesn’t include editing previously shot episodes, listening to a playback of the sound mix, meeting with the writers to break stories, or giving notes on the scripts to come. Nor does it include dashing off to watch the filming of a particularly tricky scene.

I love it all: It's total immersion in a world I helped create. But it does mean that everything else in my life must take second place for several months of the year.

Shooting on our season ended yesterday. And so, over the next two weeks, I’ll try to make up for lost time.

I realize this is the longest excuse for not having written since The Odyssey, and slightly less poetic, but it will have to do for now. Next up: Our post-Emmy wrap-up!

Meet The Family

Every actor dreams of finding the right role at the right time in the right show, a part that will afford them an opportunity to reveal their art. This rare combination of character and performer creates a bit of dramatic alchemy referred to in the trade as "theater magic." Though it may not have poured out quite so liberally on me, perhaps I can be forgiven for believing that a substantial amount of this particular form of enchantment was sprinkled over the cast of The Closer.

I am not alone in this belief. Our beautiful leading lady, Kyra Sedgwick, was nominated, as I stated previously, for a Golden Globe, a Television Critics Association award for best leading performer (the only woman so cited), and the Screen Actors Guild award for best actress. Our cast was also nominated for SAG’s coveted best-ensemble award, and there’s a reason for that.

Professionally trained, honed by experience and gifted with amazing instincts that come from a deep-seated need for honesty, Kyra brings the role of Brenda Leigh Johnson to vibrant, three-dimensional life; if one believes in her, then one believes in the show. And one does believe in Kyra: in my case, the way one believes in Christmas. For writers, she is a gorgeously wrapped present that’s even better when opened; for audiences, she’s a novel way of following a story, a protagonist with whom men and women both seem to identify with equal abandon. I love Kyra. She is my feminine self. And living proof that you don’t have to be a diva to be a star. Watch her on Friday nights at one of the cast and crew’s karaoke parties, cheering on those daring people at the microphone as if she were a teenager at a rock concert, and you’ll know what I mean. Among the plus sides of working with Kyra, besides the unique collaborative relationship we enjoy: meeting her family, especially her teenage kids, who explode any myths of adolescent immaturity.

Backing up Kyra, The Closer has a supporting cast of absurdly talented actors.

J.K. Simmons plays the role of Assistant Chief Will Pope, Brenda’s dodgy but mostly supportive boss (and ex-boyfriend) with the same easy skill I witnessed firsthand on The D.A., a short-lived series we did together on ABC a few months before starting The Closer. I wrote the role of Pope for J.K. because... well, I’m selfish and I couldn’t imagine doing another show without him. A utility player, he blends seamlessly into any style and every medium. Many people don’t know that J.K.’s first claim to fame was as a musical star, assaying the role of Captain Hook in Peter Pan. Or that he performed on Broadway with Nathan Lane and Peter Gallagher in Guys and Dolls. J.K. is a big-screen chameleon. Whether portraying Peter Parker’s boss in Spider-Man, Brad Pitt’s unreliable cohort in The Mexican or Tom Hank’s overly confident co-conspirator in The Ladykillers, J.K. can disappear into a part until all you see is the character. His star turns on Oz and Law & Order are television standouts. Not only does he shine on camera, he also taught me the rudimentary elements of playing tournament-style Texas Hold ‘Em, (mainly so he could separate me from my money). Biggest pluses of having J.K on the roster: getting to know his family, his wonderful parents and some of his best friends, which include nearly everyone who’s ever met him.

Corey Reynolds was discovered in the audition process, though anyone passingly familiar with Broadway or Steven Spielberg would find him instantly recognizable. Nominated for a Tony Award for playing Seaweed in Hairspray, and making his big-screen debut in The Terminal, Corey has led a charmed life for an actor. At The Closer, we believe he’s a movie star waiting to happen. What a thrill it is to have someone with Corey’s immense potential — still at the beginning of his career — pursuing his ambitions as a member of our squad. He has made the role of Sgt. Gabriel the indispensable man, the charismatic diplomat who eases Brenda’s way through the Byzantine world of the LAPD. Biggest pluses working with Corey: wild enthusiasm, “go-team” spirit, his love and friendship, Tara, and his musical genius.

Robert Gossett is yet another member of our ensemble who earned his wings on stage. Years of New York theater performances, working with some of the greatest playwrights of our time, prepared him very well for the moral complexity of Commander Taylor. Honing his craft through a host of well-received film and television roles, including the harrowing psychological thriller Arlington Road, Robert has a fearless commitment to his art. He also has the hardest job of all of our performers because he must consistently act as if he dislikes Kyra, a difficult assignment if ever there was one. Robert does amazing things for children in his community. I especially enjoy having dinner with him after a day’s shoot and listening to the war stories of his childhood in Brooklyn. Biggest pluses in working with Robert: meeting his family and his kids, and the occasional outing to a play at the Mark Taper Forum. Robert is a good-hearted friend.

Jon Tenney is another masterful stage actor. He projects warmth, compassion and command without ever stepping out of the tonal reality of our show. As a character actor in a leading man’s body, Jon segues easily from the intensity of a great dramatic performer to the charm of a modern-day Cary Grant, and then back again. Special Agent Fritz Howard not only provides us with a window into Brenda’s private life, he also gives us a running shot at adult romance, all thanks to the multifaceted art of Mr. Tenney. Best pluses about working with Jon: his inimitable sense of humor, his beautiful daughter Emerson, and the ever-so-lovely Leslie.

G.W. Bailey was one of my acting teachers in high school. Never in a million years did I think we would one day go from Lubbock, Texas, to working together on a television show in Hollywood, although G.W. did just that long before I reappeared in his life. Appearing famously in the last three years of M*A*S*H, he also starred in Flo and The Jeff Foxworthy Show between stints in pictures such as Mannequin, the Police Academy movies and many other films I lack the space to mention. Before taking on the part of Lt. Provenza, G.W. spent a considerable part of his career on stage; he still does. Just last summer, I went to see him play Clarence Darrow in Inherit the Wind. Cunning, brilliant and wise, his Darrow made me recollect instantly why G.W. was such an inspirational figure in my youth. His sterling performances as a professional actor have been almost eclipsed by his not-for-profit work with the Sunshine Kids, an organization devoted to organizing fantastic trips and adventures for children suffering from life-threatening illnesses. Greatest pluses of working with G.W.: too many to count, but being reminded on a daily basis of how marvelously intertwined we are in the lives of others is even better than the huge laughs he provokes from his unsentimental take on daily life.

Tony Denison and I have been friends for over 10 years. Though he can be scary, tough and dangerous on screen, I don’t know that guy. The Tony with whom I’m familiar is sweet-natured and charming, a grown-up 8-year-old with a talent for make-believe. The generosity of Tony’s spirit is on display constantly as he takes the lion’s share of ribbing from the cast, mainly because of his uncanny knack in setting himself up for one-line jabs. Like the boxer he once was, Tony rolls with the punches. And if J.K. taught me how to play Texas Hold ‘Em, it’s fair to say Tony taught me how to beat him. In addition to his memorable performance as Ray Luca in the series Crime Story, Tony also did The D.A. with Mike, Greer and I, and also Playmakers on ESPN. Best pluses of working with Tony: his unending patience, Jackie (of course) and his infectious love of life. Also, if you’re ever in a tight place, Tony is the guy who instantly has your back.

Michael Paul Chan was a revelation from the moment he first auditioned. The geeky intellectual Lt. Tao you see on screen is about as far a cry from MPC’s personality as one could possibly imagine. Allergic to ill manners and incivility, Michael lends an air of grace to everything he does, playing the former Scientific Investigation Division officer with an honor student’s glee at finding the right answer to every question. But you would never know from watching him that he spends practically every spare minute he can find surfing. Or that his real wardrobe marks him as one of L.A.’s casual hipsters. It’s impossible not to enjoy his company, just as it’s impossible to miss his ubiquitous presence in television (did you catch his recent and hysterical recurring role on Arrested Development?). Best things about working with Michael: meeting his wife, of course, and his commitment to making our show feel even more like a happy family.

From Day One, Raymond Cruz took the role of Det. Julio Sanchez and made it his own. Stony and tough, he took a couple of scenes in the pilot and nailed them to the wall with his eyes alone. His tough-guy image is no act, either; it’s the real deal. And yet, though he fought his way up from the streets of L.A. (he’s proud of the fact that he’s never tried alcohol or drugs of any kind), I always think of him as smiling. Smiling with a gun in his hand, but smiling. Training Day and Clear and Present Danger, to name only two of his more successful films, demonstrate Ray’s electric sense of interior danger. I know, I know — I keep talking about everybody’s sense of humor. We have a funny cast. But Raymond has an honest wit about him; he makes people gasp. In a good way. He can be dark, but very, very funny. Pluses about working with Ray: his laugh, his viper-fast comebacks, his cynical asides and his character.

Gina Ravera is the Other Woman on our show and the camera finds her almost as delectable as she is in person. It’s hard to think of Gina as anything but a lady, and she brings a quiet sensibility to the squad that keeps the men on their toes. Our first season had her character of Det. Irene Daniels jousting a lot with Raymond on screen, which neatly portrays their real-life relationship. Unbeknownst to us, Gina and Ray had been longtime friends before they started up on The Closer, and their back-and-forth isn’t too far away from what you see on screen. Gina adds a touch of sophisticated grace to every little thing she does. Or, as G.W. likes to say, Gina classes up the joint. Best pluses about working with Gina: her eyes, her eyes, her eyes. And a sudden laugh that erupts from somewhere deep inside, an unvarnished guffaw that reminds you that, in addition to be a lady, she’s a woman.

Phillip P. Keene patiently sits at the audiovisual surveillance desk playing Buzz, the much-put-upon civil servant that Provenza and Sanchez continually harass. Though this is only his second television credit, he’s performed with the skill of a seasoned pro, instinctively knowing when to ignore what’s being said around him, and when to pay rapt attention. A former Pan Am employee with a pilot’s license, he only recently went back to college to get his degree. Weirdly, after all that, and fairly late in the game for our business, he decided to try his hand at acting. We think he’s doing pretty well, and the proof is his growing presence in the life of the squad. Best pluses about working with Phillip: his deadpan stare at some of the absurd things said around the set (which provokes ear-piercing giggles from the makeup trailer), and his constant disappointment with Buzz’s choice in clothes (expressed with a sad, wistful shake of the head). For fun, Phillip’s has recently taken up surfing with Michael Paul Chan.

Lucky me. These are the generous actors who devote their time to The Closer. And while I may not be the best writer in television, I will always insist that I have the best cast.

I have a special relationship with the actors on The Closer because I created the characters they play: their backstories, their vocabularies, their attitudes. But ask them who their fearless leader is and the answer will come back, unanimously, Michael Robin.

Mike directs and produces The Closer with a rare combination of creative verve, technical know-how and, as he himself calls it, “the ability to grind,” which means he can work impossibly long hours — days on end — without a murmur of complaint. His genius isn’t limited to his gift with story, either, nor his ability with actors, nor his eye in the editing room, nor his ability to distinguish the wrong decibel level in a sound mix from the next room, all of which can be compared to the very best of any director working in our medium today. He is also mature, kind, caring, secure and, as good as he already is, always insisting on learning more. He runs from interviews (though he can be dragged to a panel now and then) because he wishes to be judged solely on the quality of his work. He argues passionately for his point of view without ever getting personal. He comes to work prepared to give a hundred percent every day. And he also possesses the goodness of heart that allows other people to perform their jobs without holding them to the impossibly high standards he holds for himself.

Mike has also become one of my best friends, which means he has the patience of a saint (if not exactly a martyr). Though I’m working on being as adult as he is — and I’m older so it shouldn’t be such a problem — I have the writer’s perpetual need to express himself (meaning I have a tendency to ramble). I also have a panic response to misplacing my phone, 15 pairs of reading glasses since I’m always leaving them somewhere and a slightly obsessive-compulsive addiction to the Hollywood Stock Exchange. Mike looks in my office sometimes and just sighs. Or he’ll sneak through the half-open door as I’m typing away in the dark (having sat in front of my computer from afternoon to evening), and turn on some lights before disappearing back to the set or a mix or a music spot.

As a complement to Mike’s generous friendship, and inseparable from it, is his brilliance with those working on both sides of the camera. There are directors who demand obedience, or raise their voices, or roll their eyes. Mike listens. He encourages collaboration. He searches for humanity in the deepest, darkest places of our souls, and he brings humor and authentic detail to the ordinary, everyday moments of our lives. If you are willing to take the trip, Mike will document the adventure and guide you at the same time. And his seriousness about his art form has brought us a slew of other wonderful directors who believe the same way. Arven Brown, Greg Yaitanes, Elodie Keene, Rick Wallace and many others who have joined us have helped lift our show to new highs.

It's actually this simple: We write the stories, and Mike tells them.

And no one would have it any other way.

There are many times when friends and family members call me after viewing an episode of The Closer and compliment me on the writing. When I say, “Thanks, I’m glad you liked it,” I’m usually taking a bow for a much larger group of people.

After the pilot — or the first episode — most television shows go on to develop their stories with a larger group of people. As the official creator, I tend to garner the lion’s share of the credit, but the truth is this: The Closer is the collaborative effort of a small but mighty group of talented writers and producers, gifted directors, a brilliant cinematographer, and a fantastic crew.

This blog entry is dedicated to the people who slave away in the writers' room: Greer Shephard, Wendy West, Adam Belanoff, John Coveny, Hunt Baldwin, Steven Kane, Det. Mike Berchem, former Los Angeles County D.A. Gil Garcetti and Ken Martin. Each of these individuals bring amazing gifts to the large conference table where we gather to thrash out the concept, details and theme of each episode.

First came Greer, my partner and coconspirator in a host of projects. And while I was charged with constructing the overall concept of The Closer, it was Greer who first suggested that the protagonist be a woman.

We were looking for a way to immediately stand out from other offerings in the procedural genre, to dramatize social conflicts in our society without burdening the script with essays or political viewpoints. The character of Brenda Leigh Johnson allows us to do that in a variety of ways. Arranging the orbit of the show around an adult female was, at the time, considered a bit risky. High-performing cable dramas starring women are a little hard to find right now, although I imagine they will be less difficult to locate in the future.

Greer also helps manage the development of each story. Not only does she come up with some exciting ideas of her own, she also condenses and writes down everything the writers say, using an assortment of different colored pens and several dry-eraser boards mounted around the walls; she tends the growth of each episode until it’s ready to be handed off to an individual writer, who fleshes out the outline and turns it into a script. Her duties far exceed this brief description, but we will meet her again as we blog through the summer.

I first met Gil Garcetti when developing a short-lived series for ABC called The D.A. Having served as the district attorney for the County of Los Angeles for eight years, Gil was ideal for that assignment. Since he retired from practice, he’s pursued an enormously successful career as a photographer (shameless plug: his work is available on Amazon). But he consents to consult with me in areas where he has some expertise, so when I was first coming up with the notion of an elite squad of detectives devoted to the sort of high-profile crimes that can drag on endlessly in the courts, I asked Gil what would be the best thing the police could give him when dealing with a resourceful murderer.

“A legally obtained, airtight confession that will stand up in a court of law,” Gil replied.

That sort of says it all, doesn’t it?

Gil also keeps us on the legal straight-and-narrow; he knows from hard-earned personal experience just what a judge will allow in court, and what will be thrown out. And his prosecutorial background makes him sadly familiar with the darker shadows of our nature. Honestly, there are times I wish he ran the world.

Det. Mike Berchem of LAPD’s Robbery/Homicide Division brings to the writers' table his badge and nearly three decades of experience working Los Angeles crime scenes. Mike sits down in the room and laughs his way through the most bone-chilling tales of vicious killers and gang warfare you have ever read about in your morning paper. As a working detective, his visits to the Closer writing headquarters are few but powerful. In addition to helping us “break stories,” Mike almost always has some recent adventures to recount. His life-and-death struggle defending our streets puts the work we do for television in perspective.

Though his official title is technical adviser, Mike has also become my writing partner. Nearly every script I pen this year will be one I worked on with “Det. Mike.” And we have never filmed a crime scene without Mr. Berechem present, nor is it our intention to ever do so. We want The Closer to be the most authentic show of its kind on television. Det. Mike helps us stay on this challenging course, not only for our own sake, but also out of respect for his colleagues and for law-enforcement personnel around the country. “Tell it like it is, and show it like it is.” This is Mike Berchem’s motto.

It is hard to think back to a time in The Closer’s brief history when I did not know the shoe-obsessed Wendy West or the former advertising team of Baldwin & Coveny. These three members of our tight-knit writing family have been with the show from almost the moment it was picked up by TNT. The brash and gorgeous Ms. West obsesses on footwear and crime stories with an equal passion, and her commitment to style is obvious in both. She has a cunning knack for elevating the theme of each episode with an action or a line that neatly encapsulates our heroine’s dilemma, and her dark sense of humor forms an icy undercurrent to the way Priority Homicide Division navigates its way through the murderous waters of L.A.

John Coveny and Hunt Baldwin have lived out a fantasy: They left successful careers in the Chicago advertising world and gambled everything they had on pursuing the dream of writing in Hollywood. They succeeded. Baldwin & Coveny’s daring, clear-eyed focus leaps from the page to the screen like a canvas sail filling up in the wind. John’s blustery confessions and Hunt’s dry gift for neatly understating the obvious make the hours we spend in the writers' room more like joining friends for dinner than working through lunch.

Adam Belanoff and Steven Kane are new this year, but since we began crafting this season’s episodes back in December, they already seem inseparable from our daily lives. The breadth of Adam’s knowledge is so vast, and his talents so various, that the staff affectionately refer to him as Dr. Sagan (in memory of one of the last century's great scientific thinkers). Adam’s insistence on researching every element of his story for authenticity and corroborative detail has brought a new spirit to our inquiries. Steven Kane is a force of nature, possessed of the most rapid-fire wit this side of a Robin Williams special. Oftentimes we find ourselves sitting at the table struggling to catch up with one of Steven’s short, lightening-fast fusillades; like a comedian working a club full of dim drunks, Steven waits patiently for us to catch up with his jokes, tapping his fist as if he was clutching a microphone. “Is this on? Hello? Hello?”

Finally there is Ken Martin, who dutifully takes down everything we say in the room, typing furiously on his laptop so that — in the off-chance any of our comments might carry the slightest whiff of intelligence — we have a record of what we discussed when we go off to write our scripts. Truthfully, we cannot move a story out of the room until it makes sense to Ken because — well — he won’t give it to us. Ken continues to follow the outline until it materializes as a script, then nurses it all the way through shooting. Though he has had no time to write a Closer script of his own this season, it is safe to say he has spent more time with(in) each episode’s pages than anyone else in production.

So there we all are: The people who work in one small corner of our show. Since I have received so many compliments for their work, I hope you will forgive me for taking this space to pay a little tribute to them. Next entry: our director-in-chief, Mike Robin.

Two years ago this coming August, I showed up for a late breakfast at a Hollywood restaurant and met someone who completely changed my life. Such experiences don’t come along very often — transformational first encounters let’s call them, or TFEs — and my memory seldom recollects them in the order of their importance. For example, I can tell you the day and the hour I was introduced to Fritz, the slightly manic German Shepherd who spent 10 years chasing squirrels from our backyard and joyously barking at our neighbors, but I can’t remember anything specific about the moment I first met my spouse, who has been barking at me even longer (I mostly deserve it). Such are the curious tricks memory plays on us, mainly because the most consequential people in our lives (outside children, siblings and in-laws) seldom arrive with a trumpet salute or a small firework display alerting us to their future significance. And even more rarely are we introduced to them at breakfast.

Certainly, when Kyra Sedgwick walked through the doors of Campenili that late Sunday morning to share the first of many meals with me, Mike Robin and Greer Shephard (my partners in developing The Closer), we had no idea we were about to share in a TFE of the very highest order. But I do remember that meeting with what, for me, is enormous detail.

Mike, Greer and I had arrived at the restaurant first with our casting director, Bruce Newberg, a long-time friend with a genius for matching the right role with the perfect actor. It was Bruce who first brought up the idea of Kyra playing Brenda Leigh Johnson, The Closer’s idiosyncratic protagonist. I responded to Bruce’s suggestion with wearied irritation. Kyra lived in New York, I told him. She was a movie star. She was on record saying she didn’t want to work in Los Angeles. She also didn’t want to do series television. We had a deadline to meet. Please, I begged, move on.

As he often does, Bruce ignored me (I don’t take it personally; he ignores everybody) and went about assiduously forcing managers and agents to read our script. Somehow or other, The Closer made it through the infuriating obstacle course erected between talent and producers to arrive, almost at the very last minute, in Kyra’s hands; to my utter amazement, she agreed to fly out to Los Angeles and meet with us.

One more little sidebar before Kyra comes through the door for our TFE. The Closer has a terrific ensemble, but it also required nothing less than a brilliant actor of uncommon strength and stamina at its heart. And fate has ordained that brilliant actors with uncommon strength and stamina are often so personally difficult that working with them on a daily basis can lead one to consider equally uncommon acts of criminal violence. Anyone who tells you differently is lying. Actors have the same fear of producers, writers and directors; anyone who tells you differently has just lied twice.

Greer, Mike and I knew Kyra was a world-class talent, but we were largely uninformed about what she was like to work with. And filming the first year of a television series is like diving in a submarine with an unfamiliar crew for six months; you don’t want to find yourselves stuck in the ocean depths with a bunch of lunatics struggling for the helm. No, you are seeking a stable, mature, talented, collaborative genius who can work the grueling schedule television demands without blowing up the ship.

Enter Kyra Sedgwick.

I’m afraid the first thing I noticed about Kyra was just how beautiful she was. Not that I’m excessively shallow, but I have lived in California for over 15 years, and I do work primarily in television.

Kyra sat. The four of us began talking, a little hesitantly at first, but warming to each other perhaps more quickly than we had intended. Before I knew it, Kyra was looking to see what everyone else had ordered, delightedly perusing the menu and chatting about the notion of living in Los Angeles traffic. Kyra had brazenly skipped through the knotty part of our TFE — the figuring-the-other-person-out part, the do-I-want-to-deal-with-this-person issue — because she wanted to enjoy the meeting. Realizing this, I relaxed.

Now that might sound odd. Why should the fact that Kyra wanted to enjoy herself ease my worries? Of course, you think, people want to have fun. Oddly, in Hollywood, the idea of loving what you do and whom you’re with isn’t always at the very tip-top of everyone’s list. Lots of folks seek fame, and the attention that goes with it. Still more want huge stacks of money. Or a reputation for genius.

Kyra wanted breakfast.

More specifically, Kyra wanted Greer’s breakfast, because it was composed of an enormous pile of French toast and an aromatic dose of fresh maple syrup. Fame was fleeting. Money was yet to be negotiated, and wasn’t discussed at all. The French toast was there in the moment, and Kyra stared at it longingly during our first meal together; when Greer failed to finish it, and the waiter started to take it away, I gently tugged the plate from his hands because, I, too, primarily wanted to enjoy myself. The studio was paying for breakfast, and, frankly, I don’t like giving up any part of a free meal. I finished where Greer left off and Kyra watched me, sighing slightly as the last bite disappeared.

We did not know that morning, as we finished our first meal together and tipped the waiter handsomely with corporate funds, that The Closer would have the sort of success it discovered last summer. In fact, we had no assurance that a series would be ordered at all. But we did know we had enjoyed breakfast with each other, that we had laughed a lot, that we had listened with a good deal of attention to each other’s concerns, and that we were ready to try the collaborative experiment of creating television on a weekly basis, if such an opportunity presented itself.

Our meeting with Kyra was a defining moment in my life, a TFE of epic proportions. Kyra’s performance as Brenda Leigh Johnson gave full-bodied life to a challenging part; it garnered her a nomination for a Golden Globe and a SAG Award and the applause of critics and audiences around the world. She allows me to do the very best I can; her ability inspires me to try harder; her truth-seeking temperament and native civility make going to work in the morning and falling exhausted onto my pillow at the end of a long day an absolute joy. I hear Kyra’s voice as Brenda’s dialogue appears on the page; I imagine Kyra’s face as Brenda peers over her reading glasses at a suspect seated opposite her steely-eyed stare.

As I grow older, it no longer surprises me to find out that my parents were mostly right about everything. As it turns out, breakfast really is the most important meal of the day.