Uncompromising investigating magistrate Candela Montez (Candela Peña) proves too much for her fragile male colleagues in Barcelona. She finds herself dispatched, much against her will, to El Hierro, the smallest and most remote of the Canary Islands – about as far as they can send her while remaining within Spain.
She arrives, furious, in this remote, bleak island with son Nico (Angél Casanova). He is someone we encounter rarely in crime thrillers – a teenager with severe learning disabilities and cerebral palsy. Mother and son hunker down in a beautiful house, isolated and overlooking the sea, as she plunges into her new job in this strange place, simultaneously frantically trying to organize Nico’s care.
At first, Candela doesn’t take much to the islanders, who appear clan like, secretive and mired in obscure traditions. The feeling is mutual – they don’t like this busybody mainlander who does not give a fig for their ways.
A familiar plot unfolds – murder, multiple suspects, links to organised crime, treachery and then, naturally, the thrilling denouement. It’s a fine series and the mysterious, brooding beauty of El Hierro’s landscape is exceptionally portrayed.
Of particular interest are the character of Nico and his relationship with his mother Candela. Nico is non-verbal but conveys his feelings clearly to those who know him, through facial expressions and bodily movements.
Candela’s first hire to care for him while she is working is Idaira (Tania Santana), a gloomy, grunge-style, defiant young woman who, while scowling at most people, has an intuitive understanding of Nico and immediately forms a close bond. She sprays him with a hose on the veranda as an alternative to showering (which he doesn’t like), and they have enormous fun.
At one point, suspicion falls on Idaira. Candela cannot compromise herself as investigator – nor potentially put Nico at risk – so has to dispense with her services.
Earnest, cold carer
She hires an agency nurse, an earnest man. Coming home after his first day, she finds an immaculate house, with Nico sullen and miserable in his wheelchair, dumped in front of the 24-hour news on television, which he does not watch.
The nurse, writing up logbooks and filling in charts, reports to Candela that Nico has had a satisfactory day, has been showered (oh dear) and is ready for bed. Nico is discernibly distressed and angry.
Candela immediately cancels the arrangement and starts taking Nico to her highly inaccessible workplace, manoeuvring his wheelchair up and down twisty stone staircases and glaring at police officers who use the word retard (retrasado) to describe a suspect (worried, they apologise).
Meanwhile she tries to solve the complex case, leaving Nico with her administrator whenever she dashes out to chase leads.
As soon as – minor plot spoiler approaching – it becomes clear that Idaira cannot be the murderer, Candela rehires her. Nico has his beloved Idaira back and household peace and happiness are restored.
The integration of the severely disabled, voiceless Nico into this complex plot and his depiction as a three-dimensional character are admirably done.
Familiar issues are strikingly handled. We have all met the sullen and stroppy young person who shows hidden reserves of empathy and kindness that many others lack when they encounter someone who struggles to communicate. We’ve also met the cold, qualified, efficient ‘carer’ who does the job but somehow forgets it involves a human being.
Candela’s struggles as a lone parent fighting to align the needs of the son she loves so deeply with her battle to overcome misogyny and the relentless demands of her job are well handled. And then there is the fine young actor Angél Casanova as Nico, who gives a performance of such depth that, despite never saying a word, he is the character we remember most from a fine series.
