In case you forgot or subconsciously blocked it from your mind as some sort of self-defense mechanism to prevent yourself from screaming until your lungs fly out of you mouth, The Killing is coming back for a third season. The show that everyone loved for 10 minutes, then hated like poison, then didn’t care about was canceled and then uncanceled by AMC, and will reappear on June 2. And executive producer Veena Sud, like, totally promises they’ll wrap up the case in one season this time. Seriously. Pinky swear and everything.
Sud says the new season picks up a year and three months after the conclusion of season two. Linden has quit the force, is working on a ferry and has taken a 25-year-old lover. “[Linden and Holder] have not seen each other since that day that Sarah walked out of the car and walked down the street and out of her old life,” the writer-producer says.
The first two seasons followed one case over the course of 26 episodes (a decision that taxed the patience of viewers who expected the whodunit to be solved at the end of the first season). Season three, assures Sud, will solve the central mystery by the end of the 13-episode season. “In season 3, the story lends itself to one season,” she says. “We’re going to solve it at the end.”
Can I be honest with you guys? I hope they don’t solve it in one season. I hope Veena Sud gives a million interviews like this one where she swears up and don’t that they’ll provide closure in the finale, and I hope all the actors do the same in all their various talk show appearance, and then, in the last moments of the season finale, just when they think the case is closed, BOOM SHOCKING TWIST ROLL CREDITS. Why? Because the sheer, unfiltered chaos that would follow would be glorious. People would go insane. All-caps diatribes on Twitter, 5,000-word thinkpieces about lying to the audience, people throwing televisions out the window, riots in the streets, angry mobs flipping cop cars over, etc. There’s no telling where it would end. It would be anarchy, and I would sit in the comfort of my living room laughing maniacally as I watch the world burn.
Do it, Veena. I’m begging you.