For over a decade, Chicago P.D. has anchored NBC’s popular “One Chicago” franchise, drawing viewers into the gritty, morally ambiguous world of the Intelligence Unit. At its core, the show has always been Hank Voight. Played with chilling intensity by Jason Beghe, Voight is the quintessential anti-hero: a detective who bends, breaks, and often obliterates the rules in his relentless pursuit of justice. His methods are controversial, his loyalty unwavering, and his street smarts legendary. For twelve seasons, Voight has largely been invincible, navigating political landmines, corrupt officials, and violent criminals with an almost preternatural ability to come out on top. But what if, for Season 13, that invincibility had been shattered? What if Voight had faced a definitive, public defeat at the hands of an antagonist like Richard Reid, or a similar figure representing the institutional forces he so often defies? Such a monumental shift, while seemingly a blow to the show’s bedrock, could have been the most creatively invigorating development for Chicago P.D. in years.
Voight’s enduring dominance, while compelling in short bursts, has inadvertently created a predictable narrative loop. Time and again, he outmaneuvers his adversaries, pulls off the impossible, and ensures his unit remains untouchable. This “Voight always wins” trope, while satisfying for some, limits the show’s ability to explore deeper, more complex themes of institutional reform, personal accountability, and the true cost of unchecked power. His moral compass, while skewed, consistently points him towards a brand of justice that, more often than not, gets the job done. But what happens when “getting the job done” means sacrificing something truly fundamental, and the system finally catches up?
A significant defeat for Voight—not a fleeting setback, but a true, public loss of power, influence, or even his position—would be a narrative earthquake. Imagine Voight, a man who has always operated in the shadows, believing himself above the rules, finally being outmaneuvered by someone who plays the game by different, perhaps equally ruthless, rules. A character like Richard Reid, representing a more bureaucratic or politically driven form of authority, would be the perfect foil. Reid embodies the systemic challenges to Voight’s old-school policing, suggesting that even if one isn’t “dirty” in the traditional sense, they can still be a dangerous antagonist who wins through manipulation within the system, rather than through brute force or street-level intimidation. For Voight to lose to such a figure would signify a changing tide, a recognition that the world around him is evolving, and his singular brand of justice might no longer be sustainable in its current form.
The immediate and profound impact on Voight himself would offer unparalleled character development. Stripped of his absolute authority, how would he react? Would he lash out, succumb to despair, or, perhaps most intriguingly, finally be forced to introspect and adapt? We’ve seen glimmers of Voight’s vulnerability—his grief over Erin Lindsay, his complex relationship with Olinsky’s memory, his attempts to guide Hailey Upton. But these have always occurred within the framework of his ultimate control. A true defeat would force him to confront his own methods, his legacy, and his place in a rapidly changing police force. It could lead to a raw, stripped-down version of the character, exploring what justice means to him when he’s no longer the one wielding all the power. Would he find a new way to fight for his city, or would he be forced to grapple with the consequences of a lifetime spent outside the lines?
Furthermore, Voight’s defeat would be a game-changer for the entire Intelligence Unit. For too long, the other members have largely functioned as extensions of Voight’s will, occasionally questioning him but always ultimately falling in line. A power vacuum or a significant shake-up in leadership would compel characters like Hailey Upton, Kevin Atwater, and Adam Ruzek to step up in unprecedented ways. Upton, with her own complicated relationship with the rules and a history of challenging Voight, would be forced to forge her own path, perhaps leading the unit or finding a new identity within the CPD. Atwater, often the moral compass of the team, could finally ascend to a position where his ethical framework directly influences strategy. Ruzek, with his street instincts and loyalty, would have to navigate a new landscape without Voight’s constant guidance. This would allow for richer, more independent storylines for the supporting cast, giving them the space to evolve beyond their roles as Voight’s lieutenants.
From a purely narrative perspective, a Voight defeat would inject Chicago P.D. with a jolt of unpredictability. The stakes would suddenly feel higher because the audience could no longer assume Voight would always find a way. This would open doors for fresh conflicts, innovative storytelling, and a departure from the established formula. It could delve into the complexities of police reform from a new angle, showing the struggle within the force when its most powerful figures are challenged. It might even allow for the exploration of new alliances or rivalries, as various factions within the CPD vie for influence in the wake of Voight’s diminished status.
Of course, such a bold move comes with risks. Hank Voight is arguably the most iconic character in the “One Chicago” universe, and his fans are fiercely loyal. Undermining him too severely or sidelining him entirely could alienate a significant portion of the viewership. The key, however, wouldn’t be to destroy the character, but to evolve him. A defeat wouldn’t necessarily mean his permanent removal but a significant redefinition of his role and power. It would be about showing that even the most formidable figures are subject to the tides of change, forcing them to adapt or perish.
In conclusion, while the idea of Hank Voight losing might seem counterintuitive to the very essence of Chicago P.D., it could have been the most potent catalyst for creative renewal in Season 13. By forcing its central, seemingly invincible character into a position of genuine vulnerability and defeat, the show would have opened up a trove of new narrative possibilities. It would have allowed for profound character development for Voight himself, empowered the rest of the ensemble, and revitalized the show’s overall dynamics. In an era where long-running dramas constantly search for ways to stay fresh, taking such a courageous leap with its most iconic figure could have propelled Chicago P.D. into its most compelling and relevant season yet.
