Drama
Chicago Fire
Where’s the fire? In Chicago, it seems. But the flames outside Firehouse 51 are nothing compared to the heat generated inside.
Betsy Faria died by suicide. That’s what her husband, Russ, told 911, anyway.
The 52 or so stab wounds found on the victim beg to differ.
Russ was arrested practically before you could say “Miranda.” Police learned that his and Betsy’s marriage was rocky—full of fights and separations. Lately, Russ had taken to playing a “game” with the terminally ill Betsy—pressing a pillow over her face and telling her, “That’s what it’s like to die.”
And where did the police hear all this? From Pam Hupp, of course. Betsy’s best friend. A community pillar. A dog lover. Pam loved Betsy like a sister. And boy, she hoped whoever did this horrible thing would be brought to justice.
Be careful what you wish for, Pam.
Betsy was murdered Dec. 27, 2011, in the town of Troy, Missouri. Russ called 911 around 9:38 that evening, practically hysterical.
It took the police on scene all of five minutes to determine the murderer. It was Russ, of course.
Textbook spousal homicide, they said. He was a little too hysterical, they thought. The fact that he didn’t have any blood on his clothes? Equally suspicious: He must’ve cleaned himself off before he called. And his alibi? That he was hanging out with friends ’til around 9 p.m. (which they confirmed) and grabbed some fast food on the way home (which a receipt also confirmed)? Clearly fabricated.
Why, Det. Ryan McCarrick knows a guilty man when he sees him, and Russ is guilty as sin. County prosecutor Leah Askey knows so, too—and not because she’s sleeping with one of the investigators. That’s totally beside the point. Besides, Pam has given the prosecution troves of inside dirt—er, information: How violent Russ was. How scared Betsy was. Pam—friend, businesswoman, dog lover—can surely be trusted.
But can she? Joel Schwartz, Russ’s attorney, spots some inconsistencies in Pam’s stories. She dropped Betsy off at her house at 6:30 … or maybe 7. She didn’t go in … but maybe she did. She called Betsy’s phone when she arrived back home … even though cell phone records say she was still sitting next to Betsy’s house.
Betsy didn’t kill herself. But who did? Schwartz thinks the police should pay attention to another prime suspect—even if she is a dog lover.
True crime is all the rage these days, filtering straight from police blotters to podcasts to, quite often, television.
The Thing About Pam, based on a podcast and a series of Dateline NBC stories, gives the true-to-life case at its core a darkly comic twist. And in some ways, the end of the real case still hasn’t been written—even if the show itself has reached its own verdict. (The real Pam Hupp was supposed to be part of a preliminary hearing this February, but as of this writing, that hearing was postponed indefinitely: Hupp’s public defender died of a heart attack.)
A bit ironic, given how The Thing About Pam takes police and prosecutors to task for prematurely convicting their own prime suspect. Ah, but everything’s fair in true crime and entertainment, I suppose.
Starring two-time Oscar winner Renee Zellweger (who, apparently, was “obsessed” with the story and serves as one of the show’s executive producers), The Thing About Pam keeps the on-screen content relatively clean, considering the show revolves around a particularly brutal murder. Language steers clear of the worst sorts of profanities. You’ll not see much sex here, either, though intimacies and affairs are discussed. (And if the show adheres closely to the real-life case, a same-sex dalliance may get an appearance.)
But a dead body does serve as the story’s raison d’etre, and we see that body plenty: In the opening episode, we see a knife sticking out of poor Betsy’s neck, and some of her other wounds look pretty horrific as well. And she might not be the last victim we see and hear about. Some characters drink and smoke marijuana. Others may lie and steal.
March 8, 2022: “She’s a Good Friend”When murder lies at a story’s center, you can bet its edges will get messy.
Russ Faria returns home after an evening with friends to find his wife dead. When the police come, they think it’s an open-and-shut case. Pam Huff sure hopes it stays that way.
We see the bloodstained (and fully clothed) body, including a knife sticking out of the victim’s neck and a gory-looking gash on the arm. Her back (which is turned toward the camera) is dotted with bloody marks as well, indicating additional stab wounds. (We’re later told that she suffered at least 52 such wounds.) Her socks are bloody, and crime photos depict blood elsewhere in the house. Pam tells police that Russ was “real aggressive” with Betsy and their daughter, and she mentions a letter Betsy supposedly wrote to her, detailing how Russ would pretend to smother her with a pillow.
Russ admits that his marriage to Betsy had its ups and downs, and that they’d recently been separated. But he says that both had been going to a new church and had really been working to patch up their relationship. When the lead investigator accuses Russ of the murder and tries to get him to confess, he says (knowing now that he’s a churchgoer), “What about God? … We get lied to all the time but God—God knows the truth!” Russ responds by saying, “God knows I didn’t do this!”
We hear a conversation that suggests Leah Askey, the county prosecutor, is having an affair with a police investigator. Betsy had terminal cancer, and Russ tells police (using crass slang) that she had one of her breasts removed. We hear about Betsy’s allegedly frequent bouts of nausea and vomiting.
Russ smokes a bong at his friends’ house as other people hold and drink beer. (They’re apparently all playing a Dungeons and Dragons-like game, and Russ tells his daughter that his character is a “monk with celestial powers.”) He appears to smoke a cigarette, too, and Pam says that he used to smoke in the house—even though Betsy was sick. We learn that Betsy and Russ’s daughter stole some money from Betsy’s mother.
Pam references volunteering at a homeless shelter for battered women. She throws a child’s bike off the street and into someone’s yard. She lies and misleads. Characters misuse God’s name about five times.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
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