After a few weeks to think about it, to re-watch, digest, and discuss Sharon’s death, I have found a measure of peace. That is to say, I see how Sharon’s actions in those circumstances were very much in character. The development was organic and Mary McDonnell’s performance was truly breathtaking. I even get why James Duff wanted a little space afterwards to address the fallout and to say goodbye, although I wish that much-talked-about goodbye and the grief of Sharon’s family and friends had gotten a little more attention, especially in relation to the extensive backstory given to Phillip Stroh.

What is much clearer now is that Sharon got to die on her own terms. Not by choice, but still prepared, spiritually and emotionally (as much as that is possible). She died like she lived – a catholic and a cop, having her children and loved ones on her mind, and having made sure that they know how much they are loved and how happy they made her. Considering some of the alternatives (e.g. slowly and painfully wasting away while her family is forced to watch), it was probably the kindest way of letting her go. It certainly offered a lot of emotional scenes worthy of Mary McDonnell’s talent. What saddens me is that it was necessary to kill Sharon in order to give her something like this to work with.

Those who know me probably also know that I have been very vocal in the past about pointing out that Major Crimes, unlike The Closer, is an ensemble show. It does not tell its stories from the viewpoint of only one character as The Closer did with Kyra Sedgwick’s Brenda Leigh Johnson. Nevertheless, Sharon Raydor is the head of Major Crimes, and a great deal of the stories revolve around her in one way or another, if for no other reason than the fact that she takes in the material witness to one of their biggest cases. It is that witness who helps transition her from an antagonist to the previous female lead to a well-respected head of the team. Through Rusty, her team and the audience get a glimpse of what is hidden behind her professional façade. It helps us and them relate to her, and makes her more likable. Although, to be fair, I always liked her very much, because, unlike Brenda Leigh, she respects the rules and the people around her.

When she takes over Major Crimes, the tone of the entire show changes. A large part of that is due to the fact that it is now about the entire ensemble rather than only one character, but that is not all. What makes this shift in focus possible is Sharon’s way of leading. She gives her team more freedom and allows individual members to shine more than Brenda ever did with her compulsive need to be a part of every single stage of the investigation.

Sharon is determined and forceful when necessary, but much less aggressive in the way she pursues her deals. She knows the rules like no other and always keeps within their boundaries, but she also knows when and where to push those boundaries just a little bit to get the desired result. Very often, she achieves with a smile, a kind word, and a touch of her hand what Brenda did by yelling and bullying. That does not mean that Sharon is incapable of doing those things. She simply chooses not to most of the time, instead using an almost deadly calm that is at least as intimidating. When she does raise her voice, it is even more effective, because it is unexpected. As a result, the entire show feels more subtle and a lot kinder in a way. Maybe that does not make a great deal of sense to anyone else, but it does in my own head.

All of that changes with Sharon’s death, however. The moment Stroh reappears in their lives, his death at the hands of Major Crimes is a forgone conclusion. Provenza makes his intentions abundantly clear when he says that they will put an end to him by any means. Stroh first encountered the Major Crimes division in season four of The Closer (4×13 – “Power of Attorney”). Nine years later, they are still trying to stop him for good. It is understandable that everyone involved in that case carries a grudge, considering the fact that Stroh is at least partly responsible for ending their former boss’ career with the LAPD, that he tried, repeatedly, to kill Rusty, and that he very recently murdered Emma Rios. The case is personal for all of them, and it makes sense that killing Stroh, in their view, is preferable to seeing him get away once again.

However, what bothers me very much is their single-minded focus on killing him. From Provenza’s repeated insistence on stopping him “by any means”, which is readily accepted by Chief Mason, to Julio’s promise that Stroh will die, because they will kill him, they refuse to acknowledge Stroh’s constitutional right to a fair trial. Not even a day after Commander Raydor’s funeral, the team is back to where they were before she took over from Deputy Chief Johnson six years ago. They would rather play judge, jury and executioner than hand him over to the justice system. That behavior is exactly what got them into trouble before Sharon appeared as a semi-permanent fixture in their murder room, and it is the reason why she was put in charge of Major Crimes. Of course, Sharon is a dealmaker, and there is no way that Stroh will accept a deal, but she also drills into Rusty that his gun is his absolute last resort. She made a career out of ensuring that police officers do not use their weapons unless necessary. At the end of season four of Major Crimes, during the “White Lies” arch, we see how she struggles with having been forced to kill a person. It is quite clear that, given any other reasonable alternative, she would rather avoid killing a suspect.

Taking that into consideration, it makes sense that James Duff said (I believe in one of the Facebook live chats) that it would not have been possible to tell this story if Sharon had been alive. That is very true. She would not have stood for the discounting of non-lethal options from the start. To quote something Sharon said in 3×14 “Trial By Fire”

The law’s not about right or wrong. It’s about resolving conflicts in a civilized manner. If we want the justice system to work, we have to stand beside it when it doesn’t go our way.

That being said, I have no doubt that, if it had come down to a choice between Stroh’s life and that of an innocent person (or her son), Sharon would have pulled the trigger herself, no matter what it would have cost her personally or professionally, although that is not the kind of solution I would have liked to see.

What is relevant here is that she would not have lost focus of other options. She would have tried to outwit him, to beat him at his own game, and to find a way to capture him and make him take responsibility for his crimes. To see this strong, intelligent, and capable woman outsmart a serial rapist and murderer who hates women without firing a single shot would have been the ultimate tribute to her character and to a show and franchise which prides itself on its representation of powerful women, on its diversity, and on its fair and balanced representation of the LAPD.

I realize that Stroh being back in prison would not exactly end his story for good. He was there before and got out. There is no guarantee that he would not do it again. However, it is possible to reassure viewers that this is it, that he is finally contained without any chance of ever getting out again – without shooting him.

Stroh was Brenda’s last case. She managed to capture him and, given the opportunity to kill him, she chose not to. She paid the price for that when she lost her job over what it ultimately took to get him locked up. Stroh should have been Sharon’s last case, as well, and James Duff would have earned my eternal adoration if he had allowed her to truly win, without compromising her morals or her adherence to the rules. Instead, I fear that we will see another white man riding in on his white horse to save the day – and get away unscathed.

Maybe giving Sharon a win without the negative fallout Brenda experienced would have ended the show a little less definitively than James Duff wished, but it would have been a lot more satisfying to think of her as continuing to be a badass, principled cop than to see her silenced halfway through the final season.

That is ultimately the source of most of my anger. The silencing of women is as old as time and prevalent in most classical literature (if you are interested in reading more about that, see Mary Beard’s Women and Power¹), but it is not limited to the ancient Greeks and Romans. We see it every day, in the books we read, on screen, and in the world around us. Especially in politics it is common to discount female voices. The treatment of Hillary Clinton is only one prominent example.

As women, we are used to our contribution being ignored or discounted. We are used to being put down, insulted, or outright threatened for daring to speak out in public, and we witness the consequences of women using their voices even more often than we experience them ourselves. We are called out – by both men and women – for choosing career over family, for deciding to stay home to take care of our children, or for deciding to have both. We have to be twice as good, twice as smart, twice as qualified, and put in twice the work to achieve the same as our male counterparts, all while looking pretty (but not too pretty), sporting a nice smile (but not fake), and being sweet and kind to the people around us (but don’t you dare be too nice to the men you encounter unless you intend to put out). And God forbid we make a mistake! This may sound like a feminist rant to some, but for most of us it is daily reality, one that needs to change if we ever want to achieve true equality.

One way to change that is by making people get used to seeing women in leadership positions, and the easiest way to accomplish that is by putting them on TV. People definitely spend enough time in front of their television sets. It boils down to representation. Representation of female leaders, of women who speak out and who are accepted and respected for their intellect and skills in every walk of life. Women who are allowed to wear sexy clothes or flirt without being reduced to their ability to satisfy male desire, or to deviate from what is commonly considered attractive and still have fulfilling and rich personal and professional lives. Women of all ages taking charge and being in power. Representation matters, because it influences how people think of themselves and others.

Like in real life, there is an imbalance when it comes to the on-screen representation of women in general and professional, powerful women in particular. The scale tips even further when you look at women over 50. Most networks and producers are scared to tackle this imbalance in a meaningful way. As Rebecca Collins states in her 2011 article on Gender Roles in Media², it is not enough to add more women to our daily media diet. The way those women are depicted is just as important.

That is precisely why Sharon Raydor matters so much. She is a loving and dedicated mother, having raised two children mostly on her own and helping a third through high school and college, and she also manages to be successful professionally. She sacrifices her original dream to become a lawyer for her husband and children, putting their needs before her own, but that does not discourage her. Instead she makes a name for herself within the LAPD, becoming notorious for her love of the rules, which does not make her popular with her peers. There is a lot of strength in staying true to your ideals in the face of such adversity, but she does it.

When she takes over Major Crimes, we see her as a boss, and it is easy to spot the differences between her leadership style and that of Brenda Leigh. Sharon delegates tasks, she utilizes the strengths of her team, and lets other, Provenza in particular, lead. Maybe it is partly because, as a single mother, she had to get used to giving up control on occasion, but she does not insist on micromanaging every single aspect of their investigations. She lets Provenza take command in the field and trusts him and her team to update her when they get back. Not only does that give her more time to take care of Rusty, but it is also a significant part of why she ultimately gains the trust of her team. She knows what she is doing, but she is also big enough to accept their expertise when hers is lacking. She is supportive of her team and facilitates a collaborative, inclusive atmosphere. This, in my experience, is a predominantly female style of leadership. That does not mean, however, that she lacks authority or the necessary guts to make tough decisions. We may get to see her vulnerable side, but she is by no means helpless or weak.

She is a woman over 50, but she does not have to hide any part of herself. We see her as a boss, a mother, a girlfriend/wife, and a friend. We also learn about her steadfast faith in God and the Catholic church. Admittedly, there are parts of her that I would have wished to see more of, but considering that Major Crimes is a crime show, what we got was very satisfying. Sharon Raydor is the kind of woman we need to see more of. She is a role model, not only to women her age, but to all women. In a world where women are constantly silenced, where those who refuse to shut up are vilified, and where kindness and following rules is not rewarded nearly enough, she shows us that it is worth it, that helping people and staying true to one’s ideals and moral code is the right thing to do, no matter what others think. She teaches us that we can be successful without sacrificing our femininity, that we can lead without antagonizing the people around us, and that, sometimes, it is worth sacrificing our popularity in order to stay true to ourselves.

It is this woman that was shut up a little more than half way through the last season of the show. Maybe that was not the intention behind killing Sharon, but there is quite often a discrepancy between intention and perception, just as artistic point of view often differs significantly from the perspective of the audience. I have the utmost respect and understanding for an artist’s desire to create something which will have an impact, something shocking, outrageous, something new and exciting, to take it one step farther and leave the audience reeling and in awe. I remember the satisfying feeling of being on stage, playing deeply emotional scenes, and I know what it is like to pour my heart onto a page and then hear from people I have never even met that my words touched them, that I managed to transport the profound feelings that went into a story over such long distances. It is an immensely rewarding and uplifting experience.

However, I also understand the recipients perspective. Killing off a main character a few episodes before the show ends as some kind of metaphor to signify the end of the show and to help the fans grief might be of artistic value (the actual scenes leading up to and immediately following that moment certainly are as far as script and performance are concerned), but if that is the way you decide to go, you have to be prepared for some blowback. No matter how mind-blowing the performances are, this is pretty hard to sell as a satisfying ending. We did not merely lose some character we liked and visited once a week for a few years. Sharon is a member of our families, she is inspiration to so many women, she is one of those very few encouraging, intelligent, and strong female voices out there, in a world dominated by men. To see her story end before the show ends, to have her silenced when her voice most matters hurts. Whether or not that is the intention, it feels like a slap in the face. In her last moments, she raises her voice to speak out for women who lost their own voices, and she is shut up for good. Her team is facing their ultimate nemesis, the worst serial rapist and murderer they have dealt with over the course of both shows, and she is denied playing a part in capturing him. She is denied the chance to speak out on behalf of all those women, on behalf of her predecessor who sacrificed her job to capture him, and on behalf of yet another woman, Emma Rios, who stood up to this man and was silenced. In fact, this seems to be a disturbing theme for this entire season.

Of course Sharon is not forgotten. Provenza does not claim her office, no one sits in her chair, neither at the office nor at home, and occasionally someone mentions her name. We see her absence in Andy’s face and in the way Rusty tries to keep her advice in mind. What is most palpable, however, is the absence of the light she cast upon her squad. She was the calm, structured center, the one who gave them direction and purpose, who held them to higher standards and made sure they followed the rules. That is exactly what is missing now that she is gone. Suddenly, it is all about killing Stroh. Not stopping him, or arresting him, or keeping him from harming anyone else. It is no longer about collecting evidence to make a deal or to present to a judge. They are looking for Stroh so that they can kill him. The loss of this show’s dominant female voice is evident in the shift in tone. I suppose Major Crimes is now another show about the male need for vengeance or something similarly disturbing. It is no longer the show I loved for almost six seasons – or thirteen, if we count The Closer.

It makes me sad to feel this way about something that gave me joy and inspiration for such a long time, and I feel bad, because so many people worked very hard on this final season and poured their hearts into it. That is something I do appreciate very much, no matter how I feel about the way it ended.

Before I end this piece, there is one thing I would like James Duff to consider: If you ask your viewers to look at your work from the artistic point of view, you will have to accept that some of them will ask you to consider the sociological implications of your story. To discount their opinions and their hurt feelings is to perpetuate this problem of silencing women, no matter if it is done intentionally or not. It is hard not to become defensive when a creative vision is not appreciated as much as one hoped, but here is much more power in listening to each other’s viewpoints and accepting that there will always be differences of opinion. Ultimately, it is the creator’s decision where to take his (or her) story, and viewers have to accept that. However, art is only truly meaningful if it opens a dialogue, which inevitably leads to controversy. That is good and important – as long as it is done respectfully.

It is quite possible that I will have to revise my opinion somewhat, since I have not watched the last episode at this point, and I am sure that I will write some more as I continue to digest what we have been given. In the end, I hope to reach a point where my misgivings about the ending will only be a minor bump in a long and otherwise smooth and beautiful road.

A big ‘thank you’ to Kadi for her input and for reminding me of that quote from “Trial By Fire”! <3

1  Beard, Mary. Women & Power – A Manifesto. Profile Books LTD. London, 2017.

2  Collins, Rebecca L. “Content analysis of gender roles in media: Where are we now and where should we go?.” Sex Roles 64.3-4 (2011): 290-298.