We all have our guilty pleasures: TV shows that we would never admit enjoying, binged in darkened rooms in the privacy of our homes. For over a decade, mine has been 9-1-1. The procedural drama by Ryan Murphy and the creators of American Horror Story centers around Los Angeles first responders including firemen, paramedics, and 9-1-1 operators. The calls they respond to are always insane, ranging from rescuing a baby flushed down the toilet to a highway shark attack. As 9-1-1 actor Peter Krause recently told Esquire, “I’m racing up ladders, jumping on fire escapes, going by exploding balls of fire, and diving underwater.” It’s campy action at its finest.
But 9-1-1 is also a tough show to stay up to date with—there are over 140 episodes across 10 seasons, not including the spin-offs. Critics call it trashy but, really, it’s absurd excellence. Me and the 9 million average viewers of the most recent season can’t be wrong. 9-1-1 is epic, must watch television. So, after a brief time away, I returned to 9-1-1 because I heard that something crazy occurred, even by 9-1-1’s standards. And no, I’m not talking about the volcano eruption.
Midway through season 8, 9-1-1 killed off a major character. For seven years on TV, Peter Krause played the soul of the fire station, Captain Bobby Nash. Then, in season 8, episode 15, he contracts a deadly fever during a chemical lab outbreak and decides to quarantine himself inside. Before he dies, he hands the sole antidote to his appointed successor, Howard “Chimney” Han (Kenneth Choi). Major character deaths are not new to TV. Game of Thrones famously dispatched characters like the series was pulling petals off daisies while playing, “He loves me, he loves me not.” But after eight seasons spent with Krause’s character basically serving as the paternal guiding hand of the series, it was an emotional blow.
It isn’t solely the absurd emergencies that keeps me watching 9-1-1: It’s the genuine portrayal of the first responders and fire station’s found family.
Around the same time, I received news that my grandfather had terminal late-stage cancer. Due to distance—I live in New York City, while he lives in China—I realized that I would be unable to travel to say goodbye at his side. It was devastating, and I didn’t know how I would manage roughly 7,000 miles away from my family. We watch TV to be entertained and be comforted from the stress of our daily lives. We also create parasocial relationships with our favorite TV characters. So, following my grandfather’s diagnosis, mourning the loss of someone so central to your family like the fictional Captain Nash helped me to grieve.
I originally avoided the show the best I could once images leaked of the cast carrying a casket through the streets of Los Angeles. Usually, 9-1-1’s promotion is enough to draw you back in. You’ve most likely seen the viral ads for 9-1-1 containing bee-nadoes, tsunamis on Santa Monica, or giant inflatable runaway pumpkins. But despite the wacky premises, 9-1-1 was something that I was relegated to watching alone—mostly because my boyfriend would groan and exit the room every time I had it on our TV. Plus, when I bring it up amongst friends and family, I’m usually met with raised brows and derision. But I’m tired of pretending that 9-1-1 isn’t amazing TV. It isn’t solely the absurd emergencies that keeps me watching: It’s the genuine portrayal of the first responders and fire station’s found family.
Following Captain Nash’s death, the most recent season focused on the aftermath among those he left believed. The tremendous loss affected every character on the show, including the tough but vulnerable lead, police officer Athena Grant (Angela Bassett). As Grant, Bassett faces an array of life-or-death situations with compassion and ferocity every episode. Together with Krause’s Captain Nash, who played her husband, they faced a lot of fires and even one cruise ship invaded by pirates. But the crux of their lasting relationship was the close-knit relationships between all the characters, which were only intensified by the death-defying situations that they’re constantly in.
It helps when you cast Angela Bassett.
Aside from the leads, 9-1-1 also features the strong and smart Henrietta Wilson (Aisha Hinds), who provides iconic Black and gay representation. Jennifer Love Hewitt plays Maddie Buckley, a 9-1-1 operator and domestic abuse survivor. Her husband, Han, steps up as the new captain of the firehouse. But my favorite character is Evan “Buck” Buckley (Oliver Stark), the impulsive, adrenaline chasing firefighter.
Buck is the beating heart of the show, starting out as a brash and immature member of the firehouse before growing into a more level-headed and responsible emergency responder. His close friendship with the single-father firefighter, Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz (Ryan Guzman), is constantly shipped by fans of the show in a fervor that would make Spock and Kirk stans blush. (The passion from fans rooting for the two to get together has only increased since Buck came out as bisexual in season seven.) But the show wants you to root for them, often spotlighting how the two characters would literally die in a blaze of glory just to save the other.
Elijah Cooper joins 9-1-1 as Harry Grant, Athena’s (Bassett) son.
Throughout my years watching 9-1-1, these characters became something of my found family as well. Seeing every character struggle with the loss of Captain Nash in their own ways—like reconnecting with religion, numbing themselves with substance abuse, or facing their fears—helped me accept that my grief might manifest differently than I expected. It was cathartic to see all the ways that the pain would be survivable with the help of my loved ones.
The tenth season of 9-1-1, which premiered on ABC on October 15, teases an erupting volcano in the middle of Los Angeles. That’s just good TV, folks. But as the season carries on, the show spreads a message of optimism for humanity—proving every episode that moving with compassion and relying on community helps us build resiliency no matter what absurd tragedies we may face. I don’t care if the volcano takes Los Angeles back to the prehistoric era, I know that firehouse 118 will get through it with the power of their friendship and their boundless determination to do good. Amidst our constant news cycle dominated by bad actors, we could all do with a little dose of hope.