Crimes come to a close. On Monday, April 18, Castell (Ulldecona, 1982) will wrap up the Carles Porta series, airing on Movistar Plus in its Spanish-dubbed edition. A solid achievement, and if asked about a guilty pleasure, the answer is a definite yes: watching this documentary series without hesitation.
Admittedly, the first episode didn’t grab me. It felt slow, almost old-fashioned in its pacing. Yet as Mondays rolled around and the screen lit up, a switch flipped. I would dim the room, tune into the recurring motif that introduces each segment, and let the narrative pull me into the liminal space between fact and storytelling. The immersion felt almost ritual—an encounter with darkness punctuated by a careful, almost reverent narration from Carles Porta that kept the audience anchored to the truth at hand.
From the outset, the appeal lay in the real-world basis of the cases. The pull was twofold: curiosity about how far the investigation would go, and a desire to see the often messy, human aftermath laid bare after the events had unfolded. What sentence had the evidence led to? Who bore responsibility, and to what degree? These questions pulse beneath the surface long before a verdict is waved. The series insists on a rigorous approach: understanding the case, identifying the victim, outlining the incident, and tracing the clues that point toward suspects. Everything is anchored in verifiable statements from those who participated in the decisions. The storytelling unfolds in a clear, chronological cadence, presenting facts in a way that remains accessible without drifting into legal jargon. It captures the tension of the moment, holding the viewer on the edge of the seat while inviting empathy for everyone involved—the survivors, the families, and even the accused at the center of the narrative.
In this sense, the program stands out as a benchmark in documentary television. It presents a model of how to balance gravity with compelling storytelling, portraying real events with due respect while maintaining a cinematic intensity. The approach is not merely to relay what happened but to illuminate the process by which truth becomes discernible—how investigators collect evidence, verify sources, and construct a coherent account from disparate fragments. The result is a narrative that resonates deeply, prompting reflection on the human dimensions of crime and the consequences that ripple through communities long after headlines fade. The series’ careful construction—from its pacing to its attention to detail—ensures that the gravity of each case lands squarely with the audience. It remains, in many respects, an exemplary guide to documentary filmmaking, demonstrating how to translate real, complicated outcomes into a gripping, responsible audiovisual experience.