There are certain characters that stay with you long after you finish the book. For me, Mickey Haller was one of them. And in my mind, he had a face. A voice. A rhythm. That rhythm belonged to Matthew McConaughey. Ever since I watched the movie based on Michael Connelly’s The Lincoln Lawyer, McConaughey became Haller. Confident, a little unpolished, smooth when needed, and just enough of a mess to feel real.

So when Netflix announced they were adapting the books—this time as a show—I was skeptical. I had no desire to replace the image I already had. The idea of someone else stepping into that role felt like being handed a counterfeit note. It looked real, maybe even convincing. But it wasn’t the original.

This is interesting, because I didn’t have the same resistance to my other favorite character’s adaptation when that moved from movie to TV. With Reacher, Tom Cruise never quite fit the image. Reacher, in the books, is supposed to be a wall of a man—silent, deliberate, threatening without needing to raise his voice. Alan Ritchson, in the newer series, makes more sense. He looks the part and carries the quiet menace.

But with Haller, it was different. McConaughey worked. So I resisted the Netflix version.

Until I didn’t.

This year’s Connelly’s book is another Lincoln Lawyer. So, while waiting for the book to come out, I finally gave in and watched the first episode. And I was surprised.

Manuel Garcia-Rulfo doesn’t try to mimic McConaughey. He brings his own version of Haller—more grounded, less theatrical. His Haller isn’t all charm and charisma. He’s a little more worn, a little more thoughtful. It took just one episode for me to adjust my mental image. I didn’t expect it. But it happened.

The show’s first season is based on The Brass Verdict. The plot is familiar if you’ve read the book, but there are some updates. Instead of a film producer, the main accused is a tech entrepreneur who made his fortune with video games. It’s a smart change. A modern jury is more likely to believe a tech founder could have skeletons in the closet than an old-school Hollywood type.

Some changes are more structural. Detective Harry Bosch, who plays a key role in this book, doesn’t appear in the series. Instead, we get Griggs. That was disappointing. Bosch has his own show on Amazon, so it makes sense. Still, it felt like something important was missing.

But the show adds new characters who work really well. Izzy, the driver, brings warmth and vulnerability. Cisco, Haller’s investigator, is solid. And then there’s Lorna. She’s probably my favorite. Smart, calm, always a step ahead. She runs the office, handles the logistics, and does it all with a sense of humor. Her character could easily have been flat, but she’s been given space where her own story arc can grow in the seasons to come.

One thing I liked a lot was how the show handles recovery. Both Haller and Izzy are recovering addicts. That part isn’t just a backstory. It’s part of who they are now. It affects how they move through the world, how they respond to stress, how they support each other. The show doesn’t overplay it, but it doesn’t hide it either.

There’s also a small scene that stood out to me. The accused, Trevor Elliott, talks about the uncanny valley in video games—how you can create characters that are almost human, but not quite. And that almost is what makes them unsettling. But if you get the eyes right, players start to care. This is a key detail of the entire mystery, and Elliott owns the explaining part. I found that metaphor fitting. I was not ready to watch the show because it wasn’t how I had Haller in my mind. But something about the portrayal clicked. Maybe Garcia-Rulfo’s sometimes brooding and sometimes playful eyes.

Another interesting choice is the use of narration. Haller often talks through his legal strategy with Izzy during car rides which seem to be taking place in a dream, and the show cuts between those conversations and the actual courtroom scenes. It works as both exposition and character development. You understand how he thinks, and you see him put it into practice.

I won’t go into the plot details—the show follows the usual Connelly formula of layered cases, shifting motives, and late-game reveals. If you’ve read the books, you know what to expect. If you haven’t, there’s still enough to keep you guessing.

What surprised me most is how easily I accepted this version. I had expected to watch with a sense of detachment, maybe even irritation. Instead, I found myself pulled in. By the end of the season, this version of Haller felt just as valid as the one in my head.

Naturally, I went and checked Amazon Prime Video and checked out the Bosch series. Now it has too many seasons and they have started adopting the Ballard stories as well as a separate series. Though when I saw that Desert Star was on the list of books being adapted, it made me tempted. I think that’s the best book that Connelly has written over the past decade. I might have to give that a shot next.

For now, I’m glad I gave this a chance. It isn’t perfect. But it’s good. And more importantly, it made me care about a character I thought I already knew.