‘Presumed Innocent’ Finale Updates the Film’s Ending While Dumbing It Down — Spoilers

Editor’s note: This post discusses the ending of Apple TV+’s “Presumed Innocent.”

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No ending that includes Elizabeth Marvel and Bill Camp gardening together in blissful harmony — with Mr. Marvel wearing a Chicago Bears shirt — can be all bad. And, to be fair, the “Presumed Innocent” finale accomplished exactly what the series has been striving for throughout its lengthy, often hysterical (in every meaning of the word) eight-episode run: It ended with a twist as gasp-inducing in the moment as it was groan-worthy a few minutes later.

After all, the title and history behind “Presumed Innocent” point viewers toward an ending where the guilty party is hiding in plain sight. Someone who’s conveniently, almost instinctively written off not just because they couldn’t commit murder, but also because they wouldn’t commit murder. That rules out Rusty Sabich (Jake Gyllenhaal), a loud and violent fella who had an affair with the victim, Carolyn Polhemus (Renate Reinsve), grew obsessed with her after she dumped him, and even showed up at her house the night she was killed. No, the one on trial didn’t do it. He’s been in our crosshairs (and the prosecutors’) from the start. The same logic eliminates other fitfully considered suspects like the lovelorn creeper Tommy Molto (Peter Sarsgaard), a long-shot scapegoat in Liam Reynolds (Mark Harelick), and Carolyn’s bitter son, Michael (Tate Birchmore). They’re all too conspicuous to elicit more than an “I knew it!” from the audience, had their guilt been proven, and showrunner David E. Kelley is aiming for jaws on the floor.

So once Rusty’s verdict comes in and he’s allowed to go home an innocent man (in the eyes of the law, at least), our attention rightly turns to the next-biggest name in the cast who’s also the next-most-motivated character: Ruth Negga’s jilted wife, Barbara Sabich. For fans of the movie, the focal shift is no surprise. Barbara is actually the killer in Alan J. Pakula’s 1990 thriller, starring Harrison Ford as Rusty and Bonnie Bedelia as his silently plotting, perpetually overlooked partner. Back then, even as paranoia over women joining the workforce swept through corporate America’s men’s rooms, no one suspected a housewife — a mother — would be capable of such a brutal crime. She couldn’t! She wouldn’t! And yet she did.

Finale director Anne Sewitsky cleverly alludes to the film’s ending by opening the series’ climactic reveal with a shot of a small hatchet hanging on the wall of the garage — the same tool Ford’s Rusty discovered in the movie, which led him to realize what his wife had done. Here, it’s a misdirect, complimenting TV Rusty’s mistaken belief that Barbara killed Carolyn. “I actually knew from the beginning, and then I didn’t know,” Rusty says. “And then I knew again for sure.” Welp, guess again, buckaroo. She tells him he’s wrong, and he doubles down on his wrongness, arguing he tracked her car the night the murder weapon turned up on Tommy’s countertop, so it must’ve been her. “You went there,” he says, with absolute conviction.

But she didn’t. And now we meet the real killer: Jaden (Chase Infiniti), their daughter. Turns out, she went over to confront Carolyn, but when the teenager found out her father’s mistress was pregnant with Jaden’s future half-sister, she snapped. Jaden grabbed the poker, slammed it into Carolyn, and drove off into the night. The next morning, she cleaned up the car and buried the evidence, which she later dug up to help clear her father’s name. (Help he needed, since Rusty did go to Carolyn’s house and, thinking he was protecting his wife, manipulated his dead mistress’ body to make it look like someone else had offed her.)

Despite the severity of her actions — the shocking, traumatizing, criminal nature of Jaden killing another human being — Rusty reacts with a frightening immediacy that mirrors his instincts upon first finding Carolyn’s body (to protect his family). “We will never speak of this,” he says to his daughter. “This is something that came out of you in a form of self-defense, in defense of this family, and it was put into motion by me. This is my doing. We will survive — as a family.”

And… they do? To the tune of Lenny Welch’s 1960 version of “You Don’t Know Me,” Episode 8 wraps with a quick montage of the main characters pleasantly going about their lives. Raymond and Lorraine Horgan (Camp and Marvel) follow through on his promise to “go full Thornton Wilder” in retirement by blissfully planting flowers in their backyard. Tommy shares a sad cat-dad Sunday with his only friend (or friends , if you count the Chicago Bears players shown on TV, as Tommy undoubtedly does after a few more lonely beers). And then there’s the Sabich family, laughing and smiling, cooking and cracking jokes, as if everything is right in the world. Sure, Rusty and Barbara share a knowing look as Dad preps the final course, but there’s no malice there. No concern, even. They’re back to where they want to be, with no one the wiser.

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The expediency of the ending does a lot to dodge the many questions left unresolved. Why didn’t Rusty bring up his suspicions about Barbara any earlier? Surely he could’ve discussed his theory about her vengeful murder before the verdict was read, and he certainly should’ve discussed it for the safety of his kids, who he was happy to let live with a presumed killer all those weeks. But OK, even if Barbara had killed Carolyn, she wouldn’t hurt her own children, and Rusty is also a pretty lackluster father, so we can let that stuff slide.

What about Jaden, though? Are we really meant to think that the worst her future has in store is the occasional trip to the park for some melancholy daydreaming? Shouldn’t she… see a therapist? Oh wait, she can’t, because she’s not allowed to speak about this ever again. Um, good luck with that . Seems practical. Jaden can handle it, and so can her folks. There’s no way that marriage — built on the rock-solid foundation of sleeping around and covering up their kid’s homicide — will ever crack. There’s zero chance Barbara had more questions about her husband’s accusation of her, or his part in the cover-up, let alone any queries for a child who’s clearly gone through some shit.

Plenty more logical questions linger, but — as I keep reminding myself — “Presumed Innocent” is not a show built on logic. It’s a show built on answering one question and only one question: Who killed Carolyn Polhemus? Everything else is just window dressing. Distractions that delay the inevitable answer. This is a show that bends over backward to let its lead character defend himself in court, despite knowing it’s the last thing any decent attorney would do. This is an Apple show where Jake Gyllenhaal sifts through piles of Apple products looking for a single photograph. This is a show that features a jump-scare dream sequence where Bill Camp’s head explodes ( explodes! ) as foreshadowing for his mid-trial heart attack. “Presumed Innocent,” the show, isn’t trying to be anything more than a slight summertime indulgence. And it is slight, it does overindulge, and, yup, it’s July, so job well done.

Not quite. If “Presumed Innocent” stood on its own two feet, outside the shadow of the film and novel that preceded it, perhaps a ridiculous twist ending would be enough to justify eight hours of melodrama. But Pakula’s movie managed to make our jaws drop without sacrificing substance. Setting aside the scrutiny it applies to the U.S. legal apparatus (which I went over in my initial review ) and its subpar depiction of Carolyn (which the series suffers from as well), the film works as an individual tragedy, where its version of Rusty is left absolutely shattered. The trial he’s been through destroys his faith in the law, for which he’s worked his whole life, and his wife’s confession permanently warps his understanding of their marriage. Maybe they can get through it, maybe they can’t, but in the end, Rusty is a man without a profession, a family, or a purpose — and, from his own perspective, he only has himself to blame.

Gyllenhaal’s Rusty accepts blame, too — both when he first finds Carolyn’s body and after he learns who really killed her — but his culpability comes without consequence. He keeps his family. He keeps his job (presumably, anyway, given he’s still living in that deluxe house… and there’s a second season coming). With a few tweaks, his story could work as a scathing indictment of privilege, except there’s no emphasis on anything other than the family getting away with it. He’s not crushed or even burdened by what’s happened. Maybe that speaks to the absent ethics of modern privileged men. Maybe Kelley wants parents to take a second to consider what destroying the climate and electing criminals has done to our children’s moral compass. Maybe– no. Stop. That’s not it. “Presumed Innocent” doesn’t want us to think about any of this. If it did, the last shot wouldn’t invite a contented chuckle, and the preceding episodes wouldn’t have been so exclusively focused on a single question.

Who did it? Well, now we know. And that’s as much as we need to think about it.

Grade: C+

“Presumed Innocent” is available on Apple TV+. The series has already been renewed for a second season , which will revolve around a new case.