The Rookie, much like its titular protagonist, started its journey with a fresh-faced idealism and a boundless capacity for charm. It offered a compelling blend of procedural drama, character-driven storytelling, and a welcome dose of humor, carving out a loyal following. Yet, as the seasons have progressed, a creeping malaise has set in, culminating in two finales that felt less like triumphant conclusions and more like a whimper of missed potential. The show stands at a precipice, and its salvation, strangely enough, might lie in the decisive removal of one character, a bold narrative amputation that could clear the path for a much-needed resuscitation of its former glory.
Let's not mince words about the recent finales. The Season 5 closer, while setting up a compelling cliffhanger with Aaron's shooting and the unresolved threat, felt a bit rushed in its execution, its villains more caricature than credible menace. But it was the Season 6 finale that truly exemplified the show's current creative rut. Billed as the most dangerous and intricate plot yet, involving the shadowy "Professor" and the conniving Monica Stevens, it fizzled rather than exploded. Loose ends were tied with surprising flimsiness, motivations remained frustratingly vague, and the supposed high stakes felt curiously low. The dramatic crescendo of a season’s worth of build-up should resonate, not deflate. We were left with a sense of "Is that all there is?" – a question that bodes ill for a show built on pulse-pounding action and emotional investment.
The core problem, beyond the convoluted plots, is a subtle shift in focus, an allocation of precious screen time and narrative energy to elements that don't serve the show's stronger assets. And here, we must talk about Bailey Nune.
From her introduction, Bailey has been a character designed for perfection, and in television, perfection is often the enemy of compelling drama. She’s a firefighter, a lawyer, a yoga instructor, a champion kickboxer, a capable domestic partner, and seemingly without a single flaw or significant internal conflict. While intended to be an aspirational figure for Nolan, she often reads as a "Mary Sue," a character so universally competent and kind that she robs the protagonist of his own agency and growth. Nolan, once a fascinating character navigating the challenges of a second career, often finds his personal storylines reduced to the saccharine comfort of Bailey's unwavering support, rather than the messy, engaging complexities that defined his earlier relationships or professional hurdles.
Her multi-hyphenate existence, while perhaps meant to be endearing, has also become a running joke among fans, a symbol of the show's tendency to create characters without realistic limitations. More critically, her presence effectively seals off Nolan's romantic life, preventing any organic dating storylines that could lead to new character interactions, personal challenges, or even professional complications. The very concept of "Nolan as a single father trying to balance work and life" or "Nolan navigating the dating world as a middle-aged rookie" was rife with potential, yet it was swiftly replaced by a relationship that feels, for all its surface sweetness, curiously inert.
So, how would writing her out make up for two lacklustre finales? It would be a narrative earthquake, yes, but one that could clear the debris and reveal solid ground once more.
Imagine a Season 8 that begins with Nolan grappling with the sudden, perhaps tragic, loss of Bailey. This isn't a call for gratuitous violence, but for an event – an accident, a difficult professional choice that leads her away, or even a mutually acknowledged, if painful, separation – that forces Nolan to confront life without his perfect anchor. This immediately injects raw, unvarnished emotion back into the show. We could see a Nolan who is vulnerable, flawed, and forced to lean on his squadmates in new ways. His character arc, which has admittedly flatlined a bit into comfortable domesticity, would be immediately re-energized.
Furthermore, her absence would free up crucial screen time. This time could be re-invested into the development of other characters whose arcs have felt underserved. Think of Lucy Chen, whose promotion to detective has felt more like a title change than a significant shift in her narrative. What if Nolan, processing his grief, throws himself into his work, perhaps even mentoring a new crop of rookies or facing a complex case that demands his full, undivided attention? This could indirectly force Lucy and Tim Bradford to re-examine their own complicated relationship without the constant pull of the "will they/won't they" that dominated Season 6, allowing for more mature, nuanced storytelling. Aaron Thorsen and Celina Juarez, characters with immense potential but sometimes relegated to B-plots, could finally step into the spotlight, offering new perspectives and challenges.
By demonstrating that even seemingly integral characters can depart, The Rookie would re-establish a sense of genuine stakes. The audience would be reminded that no one is truly safe, that life in the LAPD is inherently unpredictable. This isn't about cruelty; it's about courageously embracing the dramatic possibilities of consequence. A show that truly challenges its protagonists, that allows them to stumble and learn from loss, is ultimately a more rewarding and resilient one.
The Rookie needs a jolt, a narrative defibrillation to remind us why we fell in love with it in the first place. Two forgettable finales have left a lingering taste of disappointment. Writing out Bailey Nune in Season 8 wouldn't just be an act of narrative pruning; it would be a bold declaration that the show is willing to take risks, to shed its comfortable skin, and to delve back into the messy, unpredictable, and ultimately more compelling realities that made John Nolan's journey so captivating in the first place. It’s a drastic measure, perhaps, but one that could very well be the catalyst for the show’s redemption.
