Can I be perfectly honest with you all?
I don’t know what to think about Chicago PD Season 13 Episode 6. It’s an hour that I’ll be ruminating on long after I’ve wrapped up this review.
The acting? Phenomenal. And there were so many religious and other elements that sang — far more poignant for Torres’ character than I can dream of voicing. And yet … it’s the open-ended conspiracy that ties the hour together in a way that works, maybe.
I cannot overstate enough how phenomenal the acting was during this hour. One of the pleasures of Torres-centric episodes, whether I love them or find myself indifferent, is simply watching Benjamin Levy Aguilar.
He’s a great actor, a wonderful talent, and he’s so genuinely, unquestionably compelling in this role.
There’s an unspoken thing that happens where it feels like, with each episode, specifically those that center on his character, you’re watching a talented actor not only hone in on his craft but also tap into the character.
To me, Aguilar is a character actor. He folds right into Torres, grasps all the little nuances of the person he’s portraying, and finds new ways to bring him to life, including subtle things, microexpressions, and line delivery — all of it.
For me, it’s one of the many reasons I enjoy Torres as a character, and I can watch him in anything. There’s intrigue there, and a desire to understand even when aspects of Torres are elusive.
And we got so much of that here. I spent most of the hour practically yelling at the screen over nearly everything he did. But also, I understood it. It all aligned with Torres and how the character is evolving, and Aguilar?
He’s riveting to watch, even when an episode on its own isn’t necessarily so. And, of course, the opposite of Chad L. Coleman?
Their performances were gripping. Coleman is a veteran actor who possesses an essence that stands out in everything he has done, whether you remember him from The Walking Dead, All American, or any of his numerous other credits.
Having him on here was such a great score for the series, and watching these two men, as actors who clearly are passionate about their craft. I found that far more alluring than the actual script itself, especially for the first 45 minutes of the hour.
Torres’ arcs are always so strongly linked to religion. There’s so much imagery, line references, and all of these other things. On one hand, I love how integral it is to his character and that it’s not something that just goes away.
On the other hand, sometimes, I wonder if that’s all there is to explore for his character. It runs parallel to his background as someone on the other side of the law, so to speak.
Torres’ darkness has been prevalent for over a season now. Every time we spend one-on-one time with the character, it seems like he’s descended further into it. It’s even reflected in his clothing sometimes. Again with the imagery.
He spent most of the hour in a black shirt, something opposite of his usual white T-shirt. At times, we also see that he’s wearing gray. Torres is no longer himself, and the clothing? It reflects that.
The hour also gave us two shots of his back tattoo — the cross, the scripture, and a case in which he embodies what it says.
Except, the opener had him still battling insomnia, and still quite literally burying himself in this woman who has introduced him to masochistic sex — pleasure and pain. It’s clearly been a routine thing, given the scratches and markings on his back, no?
And we nearly close the hour with that tattoo as he changed, prepared himself to go to Dominique’s home, tell her about her father, who he really was, and how he has this new mission — to clear this man’s name and find out who really killed her mother.
Interestingly, the first time we see Torres step back into a church in a long time, it’s to hide out with the man who held him hostage. Torres recalls that the church is a sanctuary, his priest a messenger — a helper.
Maybe it’s easier for him to retreat into the place that used to feel safe for him because it’s on behalf of another person.
Torres has been lost for some time. He’s certainly fallen out of grace, in his eyes, with God and his faith. But meeting Morgan is different. He has a man, an inmate, who keeps reiterating that their meeting must have been a divine order.
It was meant to be. And for Torres? It’s a call to action. Presumably, staring at Morgan bleeding out in that parking lot, it was a test of sorts for him.
Torres’ tattoo? It’s Isaiah 6:8. “Here I am, Lord. Send me.”
For Torres to have that specific tattoo on his back means that scripture is something he feels deeply, and this situation, however ridiculous, nonsensical, and illogical it may have been to watch unfold, is for him a call to action.
He’s answering a divine call, stepping up and in regardless of whether he feels worthy or even ready to do so. Torres knows he’s fallen off — but this is his moment, one that relies exclusively on faith, and he takes that leap.
Naturally, this aligns well with his loss of faith arc; despite that, he’s locked into his role as a messenger from God. He was Morgan’s messenger that day — and he embraces it fully, foolishly, frustratingly so.
There is a profound depth to all of this, and what the hour explores is how it affects Torres’ character. It’s also one of those things that feels — more convoluted than it may need to be.
I don’t want to say that it’s the type of content that could easily go over some viewers’ heads. Still, it’s so tonally different than Chicago PD‘s usual fare, even with other characters, that I’m uncertain if it always clicks the way that it should.
And even when it’s poignant and powerful in its own right, there’s something about the execution, or maybe the fact that it clashes with Chicago PD’s character-centric rotations and procedural cases of the week, that just dilutes things?
On its own, Torres’ arcs, specifically those often intertwined with religious connotations, imagery, and other strong literary elements, are riveting; however, they sometimes get lost within the show’s structure.
Nevertheless, once I could get past how ludicrous and illogical it seemed that an escaped inmate would rack up five felonies to clear his name for one and how Torres not looping in the team and serving as problem child yet again, hot on the heels of the Gloria fiasco — I got what the writers were doing.
I’m still uncertain about how I feel, or if it was effective.
Morgan’s innocence wasn’t surprising. When he explained himself, it all made sense, and given Torres’s nature, it’s also easy to understand why he connected with him as he did.
I also found it fascinating and meaningful in its own right that one of the few characters on this series whose identity is so intertwined with the streets would serve as some form of mediator, enacting his own street justice, holding court, if you will, with Morgan and Carter.
Essentially, that is Torres’ calling — it’s what his rendition of the job entails. He got to put that to practice during the scene with the trio, and again, everyone was acting as if the rent was due in an hour, and they were a few bands short.
The acting? It was elite.
Ultimately, it’s the final few moments that kick the hour into overdrive and deliver something that changes the tone of the episode, perhaps even making it salvageable, as it opens up the second ongoing storyline for the season.
Because if they didn’t deliver the conspiracy at the end, I’m not sure this would be the same riveting episode it becomes. And, for me, that’s an issue. It shouldn’t rely so heavily on a big end to bring things around.
I appreciate that the series is actually featuring more than one unsolved case (as much as I also understand that they’re using Trudy so much, thank the heavens!).
Multiple ongoing cases are realistic, and they can lead to some interesting things. They’re a double-edged sword, though, because of the character-centric formatting. Essentially, we know we have to wait for the next big Torres episode before they approach this again to its full volume.
Because it’s his case, no, it’s his MISSION. Genuinely, Torres is an avenging angel, and that’s an intriguing concept.
Someone killed Morgan’s wife, went to extreme lengths to cover it up, framing Morgan, using her own brother to do it, and then killing Carter when they feared he would talk. It’s a five-year-old cover-up.
This has to be massive. That was a sniper who killed Carter. The entire cover-up was so complex and effective. The danger in this is real.
And now Torres is in the thick of it. Because he’s like a dog with a bone now, and it’s his personal mission to clear this man’s name, give his daughter solace and the truth, right an unspeakably egregious wrong.
