Photo: Ben Blackall/Netflix

Nobody’s perfect. That’s why parenting is so scary. Ask anyone with kids, and they’ll tell you that all they want is to do better than their parents; for the most part, many of us are. But all of us parents are also bringing our own baggage into our relationships and our kids’s lives, whether we’re talking about something genetic like duck feet or a snoring problem or something learned, like nail-biting or saving all your work until the last minute. Some of our issues bridge both those fields, like having a mental illness coupled with the willingness to get help or take medication. Some of us are naturally lazy. Some of us hate sports. Some of us are germophobes. And we give that all to our kids, whether we know it or not.

But that’s the thing about the Adolescence finale: We really should know it. It might take some time and hindsight, but there are often moments as a parent where you see your kid do something or say something and think, “Oh, shit, that’s my fault.” (Example: The first time your kid uses the F-word in mixed company.) We’re aware that there’s a great deal of potential to mess our kids up, but we’re also just trying to keep our heads above water while working, cooking, cleaning, running errands, maintaining a marriage, and whatever. Every parent is just trying to do their best. They might not be getting there, but they’re at least aware of the quest.

That’s why it’s so heartbreaking to watch Eddie and Manda go through every emotion in the Adolescence finale. Eddie’s 50th birthday is looking up, with a full English fry-up, some nice (if somber) birthday cards, and potential sex on the docket for later, but then his daughter wakes up early and sees his van. It’s got the word nonse sprayed on it, a misspelling of nonce, which the internet tells me is a British slang term “used to refer to alleged or convicted sex offenders, especially those involving children.”

Talk about a day ruiner. Getting a van repainted costs thousands of dollars, and beyond that, you have to drive it around town first, almost advertising that someone thought you so despicable that they took the risk of tagging your property. It’s quickly apparent that the perpetrators are two bratty teenage asshole kids, but it doesn’t matter. The damage is done, and it’s like an enormous needle scratch on the family’s good day.

Soon Eddie’s in a panic, flinging soapy water around the house as he tries to wash the paint off. When that doesn’t work, he practically sweeps the whole family into the van to go to Wainwright’s, which looks like British Home Depot. The van ride is almost alarmingly pleasant since Eddie’s either gotten his feet under him or is on the downswing of a manic episode. The family talks about bass lines in songs, Eddie and Manda’s long-term romance, and the undeniable greatness of A-ha. Lise scoffs at all the lovey-dovey stuff, but you can tell she’s craving the normalcy. And when you watch the family plan a trip to the movies, a big Chinese meal, and a bucket of popcorn, there’s really nothing to think besides, “If this is what it was like when Jamie was around, what went wrong?”

Granted, things could be slightly better than they were when Jamie was still home. Eddie and Manda are in therapy, and the “pictures and a meal” plan is part of what Eddie’s been learning about, which is “solving the problem of today.” He knows that they can’t outrun what Jamie’s done, that they can’t just up and move to Liverpool like Manda’s suggesting, but that also doesn’t make it easy. If this episode feels awful, think about the family going through this same kind of thing almost every single day leading up to these scenes. (They’re not real, but you get the picture.) They’re living in a hell borne somewhat of their own creation, but also, they can’t truly be held responsible. Community sympathy (if there was any) has given way to jokes and aggravation, and whatever they may have been before — the local plumber, the fun mom, the cool high school nerd — has given way, with their only identities outside the family having become who they are in relationship to Jamie, the murderer.

It doesn’t help that there are little landmines everywhere, like the clerk at Wainwright’s who corners Eddie to spew conspiracy theories about how Jamie’s innocent and offer suggestions that the family get a better lawyer. (“If you crowdfund it, lots of us will get behind it,” the creepy clerk offers.) Spotting the kids who vandalized his van outside Wainwright’s doesn’t help, either, since once Eddie does, things go fully off the rails. He grabs one and throws him around (which, honestly, could land him in jail), berating him in front of customers and passers-by. Then he stomps back to the parking lot, uses a screwdriver to open the can of paint he bought, and splashes it crudely across the “Nonse.” It masks the word a bit, but it also gets everywhere, like the windows and the asphalt, and Lisa and Manda are clearly taken aback.

It’s hard to know if this is the level of anger Jamie talked about when he talked about his dad taking apart the shed. You have to think so, though it probably comes much more frequently in the previous 13 months than it ever did before. As they peel away in the van, Eddie starts to cry quietly, and everyone rides in awkward silence. You think it can’t get worse, but then Jamie calls.

The family tries to put on a good face for Jamie, with his dad haltingly telling him that he likes his card and joking about what he will order at the Chinese restaurant. But then Jamie drops a bomb, telling his dad that he’s going to plead guilty in court. Eddie’s shocked into silence, but eventually Manda and Lise chime in to finish the call, something that seems to startle Jamie a little bit.

I still can’t really parse that father-son relationship. Manda says Jamie idolizes Eddie, and Jamie says in episode one or three that he picked his dad as the “appropriate adult” because “he doesn’t judge,” but he also mentions the soccer story, which suggests he does a little bit. Did Jamie want to tell only his dad because he thought it would be easier than telling the women in his family? Is he telling him because he’s in more meetings and hearings with him? Is he telling him because he saw the video and the mother hasn’t? It’s unclear.

I’m also not really sure how the family feels about the decision. They all seem taken aback and sad, though when they get home, and Manda and Eddie go up into the bedroom to talk, Manda says that maybe it’s good that Jamie has chosen to plead. (“Maybe making a decision has made it a little better, eh?”) Eddie’s not sure. In fact, it seems like he’s not even really sure the family will make it out of this whole mess intact or even alive. If he was a drinking man, maybe he’d find his release at the bottom of a bottle, but instead, it seems like he’s turned to lashing out when he’s confronted with something he can’t control.

But that’s the whole thing. They thought they had Jamie under control. Sure, he came home from school, shut himself in the bedroom, and never said anything or went to bed, but that meant he wasn’t getting into trouble on the streets. They didn’t know what games he was playing or what he was doing online, but in their minds, he was still the sweet kid who drew monsters at the kitchen table and got “choc ice” all over his face. Eddie says, “Feels like it was yesterday,” and Manda replies, “It was.”

The paradox that Eddie and Manda keep coming back to is that they know that they can’t blame themselves — that’s something I’m sure they’ve been told a million times — but also, they made Jamie, both genetically and emotionally. They didn’t abuse him or ignore him, but still, something went wrong enough that their son, their sweet little guy, was able to look a classmate in the eye before brutally stabbing her over and over again.

It feels so important when Manda and Eddie admit that, as she puts it, “it would be good if we accepted that maybe we should’ve done [better],” that “maybe it would be okay for us to think that.” They missed something with Jamie for whatever reason, but they parented Lise the exact same way, and somehow, she turned out absolutely lovely, even coming in to break up her parents’ sob session with a few jokes. She’s having a rough go of it, too, clearly, with everyone at school giving her shit, but she’s committed to getting through day by day, in part with the support of her family.

Maybe they won’t be able to go to the pictures, and maybe they’ll have to eat their Chinese food at home instead of at a restaurant for some time, but they’ll have each other. At home, they can let go and live as if almost everything’s normal, save for the closed bedroom door upstairs. As we see when Eddie goes in, it’s like Jamie’s coming back tomorrow. Made bed, little teddy bear, and computer games all lined up. It makes Eddie sob loudly into his son’s pillow because what else can you do? There’s nothing to feel except sadness, anger, guilt, and grief, not just for Katie but for the son he thought he knew and the life he thought they had. As he tucks Jamie’s teddy bear into bed with a little kiss on the forehead, Eddie whispers, “I’m sorry, son. I should’ve done better,” as every viewer at home erupts into sobs of their own. It’s true that he could have done better. And that’s why it hurts: We know we all could, too.