It might have been, or it could have been one of the hallucinations he was prone to it could have been the sort of hallucination we’re all prone to, facing the end. I don’t think this was necessarily about atheist Rust literally finding heaven. It was darkness, but it wasn’t nothing it was the point.

Like a substance”-and it held everyone he’d ever loved. Rust started to go into that good night and, being Rust, found more darkness, except this darkness was good-”deeper. As he lay comatose in the hospital, his long-lost daughter returned, not as a final piece to the puzzle or shocking link to the Yellow King investigation, but as a lost child haunting her aching father. There was a twist ending, though, and it had nothing to do with the plot but rather the psyche, or dare I say the soul, of bleak-hearted Rust Cohle. Why? Ritual abuse, occult worship, pretty much exactly what it looked like. Errol Childress, ol’ Scarface, was indeed the killer-or at least, a killer, the one Marty and Rust would have to content themselves with nailing. There was no such whammo twist: the investigation took us right where it suggested it was leading, even if it took us through a creepy backwoods haunted house / cloister to get there. The one thing that I would not have predicted, though, was that this dark, brooding series, this recruitment video for nihilistic pessimism, this express elevator to the sub-sub-subbasement of human degradation would end up… Hopeful? Optimistic? Even spiritual?īetter scenario-spinners than I have spent the last few weeks concocting elaborate resolutions to True Detective‘s mystery, positing one or another character-or supernatural force-as the Big Bad.

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