No matter how much we try to run away from it, our moral intuition is part of who we are—and part of the fractured imago dei within all of us. The trick is seeing it in what we read and watch. Here, I revisit a review I wrote for Christ and Pop Culture about one of my favorite procedural dramas.
I love British murder mysteries. As long as someone dies a gruesome death and the suspects use words like “posh” and “peckish,” I’m hooked. Ever since the day Netflix added to their library of macabre mysteries, I’ve been slipping away during the rinse cycle to watch 10-year-old episodes of a British detective series called Midsomer Murders.
Midsomer Murders is one of those shows that has been around forever, and while it’s never been a huge hit, it has maintained a loyal following (which I guess makes it the British equivalent of 7th Heaven). It follows the adventures of Police Detective Tom Barnaby as he solves murders in the idyllic, but fictional, English county of Midsomer. Like Cabot Cove in Murder, She Wrote, Midsomer is white-washed, picturesque, and quaint, but it also has a disproportionately high murder rate. Continue reading








