he series begins in 1996 with a tied-up person on the verge of choking. It is a sacrifice of sorts, taking place near a mansion with massive gardens that span as wide as one eye can see.

Fast forward to the present day, an ex-military pilot wife, Maya Stern, played by Michelle Keegan, with her toddler girl, bids farewell to her husband, Joe Burkett, played by Richard Armitage, who was shot in a robbery attempt. The grieving widow is being held as a suspect in her husband’s death while being forced by her mother-in-law to join therapy. Attempting to navigate through her new life as a single mother, Maya falters as she runs into trouble with her in-laws, whom she keeps brushing off.

Fool Me Once navigates through the deaths of Maya’s sister and her husband with a brief overview of post-traumatic stress disorder in military personnel through vivid flashbacks that haunt the lead’s memory. Given her background and intense training, it does not come as a surprise that Maya is suffering from the PTSD. The series provides a clear description of how flashbacks occur in the disorder. It is a treat for psychology enthusiasts and crime fans.

The Harlen Cobens adaptation is gripping, not only from the name but also based on the introductory shots of the first episode making it effortlessly seductive. Not a single moment is wasted before diving head-on into the story and familiarising the audience with the lifestyle and backstabbing nature of the filthy rich. The coffin is as expensive as the average man’s car; the fireplaces at the house are taller than a 6-foot man; and the sitting areas drip in posh leathers and fine silks. The Burkett lifestyle exudes exorbitance. The sudden death of Joe, heir to the Burkett family’s pharmaceutical business, does not sit right with the family who deploy their own devices to get to the bottom of the murder.

It might have been a good while since Netflix released an adaptation that instantly draws the audience in. The cinematics, the opening shots, the minimal use of music, deep silences and low-acoustic dialogue delivery along with the greyish hues immerse the viewer in a smooth experience.

Mama jokingly installs a nanny cam in her daughter’s bedroom. She revisits the footage later that day to find her ‘dead’ husband visiting the room to hug his daughter. He is unaware of the camera; his side profile is clearly visible. The scene rips the ground from under Maya’s feet. Disbelieving her eyes, she runs to inquire about the unannounced visitor from the realm of the dead. Getting no clear response, she races to the cupboard only to find the outfit from the recording missing.

Frantic and hysteric, she waits for the babysitter. Acting baffled, the babysitter claims that she saw no man enter the house after Maya left. Pepperspraying Maya, she races out of the house deepening Maya’s fears of her husband returning from the dead despite her seeing his body riddled with bullets from the robbers’ handguns. Grappling with her feelings and her circumstances, Maya feels lost as she starts to register the new threat to her and her daughter.

“It’s not grief.”

As Maya descends into partial madness and is riddled with fear, her sister’s children begin their own investigations into their mother’s death adding a pleasant subplot. The official investigations alongside the new murders add to the drama and keep time like a ticking bomb. Will Maya expose the murderer or get murdered herself is the question thrown at the viewers in the first episode.

It might have been a good while since Netflix released an adaptation that instantly draws the audience in. The cinematics, the opening shots, the minimal use of music, the deep silences and low-acoustic dialogue delivery along with the greyish hues immerse the viewer in a smooth experience. Is it a must-watch? It sure is.

The writer is an undergraduate student of psychology at FC College, Lahore