Alison Garrs

Deeply weary, with a simmering resentment toward urban outsiders and the systemic injustices they represent.

Nearly overwhelmed by frustration and fear for her son, but her anger is directed outward—at the youths, at the system that let them off with a caution, and at her own helplessness. There’s a flicker of hope when Catherine escalates the case, but her underlying tension remains.

A mix of maternal dread and resigned frustration, masking deeper anxiety about Daryl’s spiral and the family’s precarious stability.

A descending spiral from defensive denial to helpless distress, with moments of maternal fury at the system’s indifference to her son’s vulnerabilities.

A spiral from defiant maternal protectiveness to shattered helplessness—her love for Daryl is undeniable, but the system’s indifference leaves her adrift.

Devastated and helpless, moving from denial to appalled realization as the evidence dismantles her protective myth about Daryl. Her emotional state is raw, oscillating between sadness, distress, and a sense of being powerless against the system.

Sad and subdued, with an undercurrent of resignation. She is not angry or defiant—she is a woman who has run out of ways to protect her son, and this moment marks the end of that illusion.

Overwhelmed by a mix of protective fury, helplessness, and dawning horror at the reality of her son’s actions.

Surface: Frantic, enraged, then devastated. Internal: A mother’s primal fear for her child, mixed with guilt (did she fail to protect him?) and rage at the system (why are the bullies free while Daryl is arrested?). Her helplessness is the worst part—not being able to follow him to Halifax symbolizes her total inability to shield him from the consequences of a world that’s already failed him.

Shock giving way to simmering frustration and financial panic, masked by a facade of controlled urgency.

A mix of deep frustration, concern, and resigned exhaustion, driven by her maternal instinct to protect Daryl while grappling with the futility of her efforts to curb his self-destructive tendencies.

Feigned calm masking deep anxiety and a growing sense of dread. Her emotional state oscillates between maternal concern and creeping horror as she realizes Daryl’s detachment may signal guilt.

A storm of conflicted emotions—maternal love warring with moral revulsion, disbelief giving way to resigned horror, and a creeping sense of complicity in the unraveling. Surface: feigned calm, internal: spiraling dread.

Feigned composure masking deep horror and desperation, with flashes of maternal protectiveness and burgeoning moral compromise.

Feigned calm masking deep despair, quiet resolve, and maternal tenderness—her surface warmth contrasts sharply with the cold steel of the shotgun in her hands.

A chilling calm masking the storm of guilt, grief, and resignation beneath. She is neither remorseful nor triumphant—only certain that this was the only path left.

Anxious and fearful, with a sense of impending doom

Bewildered and horrified, but her maternal instinct forces her to suppress her true feelings. She oscillates between disbelief ('I’d wondered') and resignation ('We’ve had a funny life, haven’t we lad?'), revealing a deep-seated complicity in Daryl’s unraveling. Her emotional state is one of stunned paralysis, as if she is trapped between her love for her son and the moral weight of his crimes.

Desperately conflicted, torn between maternal love and the harsh reality of Daryl’s crimes, with a growing sense of urgency and fear about their dwindling options.

A fragile facade of warmth conceals a storm of desperation and resolve, her emotional state oscillating between feigned tenderness and icy determination as she prepares to pull the trigger.

A detached, almost clinical calm, as if she has already grieved and accepted the necessity of what she is about to do. The warmth in her voice when she returns to the kitchen is a performance, a final act of love before the violence.

A storm of grief, love, and desperation, masked by an eerie calm. She is resolute in her decision, but the weight of what she is about to do is palpable beneath her composed exterior.

Not physically present, but her emotional state is implied to be one of defensive aggression. She is likely either shielding Daryl or grappling with the consequences of his actions, possibly feeling cornered and ready to lash out—whether verbally, physically, or through deception.

Not directly observable, but inferred as a mix of fear, desperation, and maternal devotion. Her absence suggests she may be hiding, tending to Daryl, or in a state of emotional collapse, unable to face the consequences of her actions.

A state of dissociative horror, oscillating between numbness and overwhelming grief. Her emotional state is one of shattered denial—she is acutely aware of what she’s done but unable to process it rationally, her body and mind both failing her in the aftermath of the murder-suicide attempt.

A fractured state between stupor and agony. She is physically and emotionally broken, her reactions visceral and wordless, her mind trapped in the horror of her actions. There is no coherence, only raw, animalistic grief and the ghost of her son’s presence.

A hollowed-out despair, oscillating between delirious confusion and raw, unfiltered guilt. Her initial denials (‘Nobody was here’) are performative, a last attempt to cling to denial before the truth spills out. The confession is mechanical, almost robotic, as if she’s reciting a script she’s been avoiding. The physical agony of the overdose—cramping, vomiting, near-fainting—serves as a metaphor for her emotional state: her body is purging the poison, just as her soul is purging the secret. By the end, she is emotionally and physically spent, her nod to Catherine’s caution the only acknowledgment of her crimes.

None (as a corpse), but his memory is a well of grief, guilt, and rage for Alison, and a source of professional horror for Catherine.

A fractured state between delirium and fleeting clarity, oscillating between denial, remorse, and physical agony as the weight of her confession settles in.

Consumed by grief, guilt, and rage. Her overdose suggests a breakdown under the weight of her son’s confessions and her own complicity in covering for him. Her actions are those of a woman pushed to the edge, unable to face the truth any longer.

Traumatized and consumed by guilt, her actions driven by a twisted love for her son and a need to 'fix' what he’s done. Her overdose suggests a desire to escape the consequences of her confession, yet her shooting of Daryl indicates a final, violent act of maternal 'correction.'

Not directly observable, but inferred as a state of complete despair and self-destruction. Her actions reflect a mother’s love twisted into something monstrous.

Not directly observable, but inferred as a source of tension and urgency for the team, given the fallout from her actions

N/A (off-screen, but her situation is framed as a positive development, offering a fleeting contrast to the moral depravity discussed).

A fragile mix of distrust and desperate longing—she wants to believe in Catherine’s kindness but is terrified of being manipulated again. Her grief is raw, her mental state precarious, and Catherine’s offer feels both dangerous and necessary.

Inferred as exhausted but relieved; her confession to Catherine marks a rare moment of release, though the weight of her story lingers in the graveyard’s stillness.