A Deadly American Marriage

In A Deadly American Marriage, the crime is the spark, but the real spectacle is Molly. A woman so determined to become a mother that she adopted not just children, but also narrative - and manipulation - as extensions of motherhood. The production follows the traditional true crime formula: reenactments with dramatic music, tearful witnesses, furrowed-brow prosecutors, and that kind of editing that feels a little too edited. But while the format may be familiar, the content gains weight from something rarer: the defendants are present. Flesh, bone, and rehearsed answers. And that alone made me watch with a different level of attention.

And what a character Molly is. A sort of Amy Dunne without the literary gloss, but with a camera rolling and a microphone at the ready. If in Gone Girl fiction was the weapon, here it's home videos and secretly recorded audio - where the truth isn't revealed, it's assembled. Molly records everything. Shapes everything. And in the end, her version survives not because it's convincing, but because it's the only one with a soundtrack. It's unsettling to realize how much she controlled the narrative with meticulous calm. The documentary doesn't truly confront her - and perhaps that's both its flaw and its greatest strength. Because the discomfort comes precisely from what isn't said to her.

The direction tries to be impartial, but it's not blind. The camera knows where to focus - and the enigma lives in her eyes. There's an inevitable fascination with a woman who talks about miscarriage with the same coldness with which she denies ruining someone's life. There's no doubt the marriage was tense. But self-defense bleeds too much to support any thesis. The crime scene speaks, and it speaks loudly. She, however, walks away almost clean, accompanied by her father - a former FBI agent and both literal and emotional accomplice. A man so ready to protect her he seems more like a reputation bodyguard than a parent. Their relationship is unsettling, shrouded in a kind of protection that feels more like narrative armor.

But what truly breaks the heart are the children - orphaned of a father, kidnapped from stability, and used as pawns on an emotional chessboard. Deceived kids, forced to spin 360° on a carousel of versions and accusations. And even with so many testimonies, what weighs most is what was never said to them. It's hard not to feel pity. It's hard not to feel outraged. The narrative focuses on them at moments, but always circles back to the involuntary protagonist who never relinquishes the spotlight. They are the real victims. And in this legal drama, the courtroom is just the backdrop for a custody battle - not only for the children, but for the truth itself.

In the end, it's not so much about the crime, but about who gets the privilege of telling the story. And Molly, with all the spotlights and improvised scripts, didn't just tell it - she directed it. A deadly American marriage - or perhaps, a toxic motherhood disguised as eternal love.

Two very opposing versions of a married life and two kids forever damaged by what ultimately happened. The brutality of the death speaks volumes. Not self-defence. It was murder as the baseball bat blows kept going even when he was incapacitated. Molly Martens is clearly guilty and is likely a sociopath, assisted by her ex FBI doting father who deserves an oscar for his nonsense testimonies that do not make any sense. The Martens are evidently dangerous and manipulative. The courts have said so. I hope the kids are able to move on now from from the Martens poison they had to endure. What do I hope for the Martens? Nothing but relentless and swift karma. The documentary was excellent. It did portray both sides, but it showed that any bit of ambiguity (not in this case) or lack of corroboration as to how a violent event occurred could cause people to query matters. Then, instead, you have to look at the graphic crime scene evidence. Not for the faint hearted and not some attempt but somebody to subdued anyone that may have been, in any way, aggressive. This was a brutal and sustained assault in someone who could not defend themselves. If such alleged aggressor is no longer a threat, it stops there. To keep going...that's murder. No two ways about it. Full stop.

"I can't tell" was what Tom Martens told the 911 operator when they asked him if Jason Corbett was still breathing. Later, he and his daughter, Molly, Jason's wife, can be heard attempting or feigning an attempt to perform CPR on Corbett's unresponsive body. Checking for signs of breathing precedes CPR. "I can't tell" implies either he didn't care to check whether Corbett was still breathing or he already knew that Corbett was dead.

Very rarely in true crime documentaries do we get to see an even portrayal of both sides of the story. No one involved had "declined to comment" and it felt very much like witnessing a live trial where cases of the defense and prosecution are being presented as we the audience watch on like a member of the jury. In this sense, this documentary succeeds in allowing you to form your own opinion about the truth surrounding the death of Jason Corbett - was he the victim or the aggressor who was killed in self-defense?

A few things stood out to me. Tom's coldness and detachment when discussing the death of his son-in-law, and his smirk that was captured at the police station. Molly's unwavering focus on herself and her image as the mother of Jack and Sarah, speaking of them as if she was their birth mother, as well as the abject absence of any remorse or horror towards her husband's death, even if he was abusive according to her. After all, she admitted to striking him in the head with a brick.

Jack and Sarah were more reliable narrators, especially when they each expressed sadness and guilt over their initial statements to the authorities at the tender ages at 9 and 7 respectively, that portrayed their father as having a temper and abusive towards Molly; these statements were later retracted when they concluded that they had been groomed by Molly. The defense attorneys homed in on medical notes that indicated Jason reporting "getting angry for no reason", while ignoring the bigger picture that Jason had hypothyroidism and hadn't been taking his medication for seven months. Symptoms of hypothyroidism include weight gain, fatigue, depression and irritability.

DARVO is Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender; Molly gave a masterclass of this here. A real victim of coercive control wouldn't dare to risk their abuser finding a recording device, let alone plant several at various locations in the home and in the car. Molly saying "I was the mother to the Jack and Sarah that existed in another lifetime" also informed me that she never truly cared for the children. She only saw them as extensions of herself as she basked in title of Mother and wanted them so that she could continue her charade. But Jason would not allow her to be their adoptive mother and wanted to return to Ireland with Jack and Sarah. That was the motive.

That Molly, Tom and their horrible excuse for an attorney were allowed to point blank LIE regarding Mags is so appalling and quite honestly, grotesque.

The prosecution for this debacle couldn't have been more incompetent- they didn't even bother to call Mags' family in Ireland to testify! After presenting such an horrific case the first time, he caved completely and gave these two monsters an ridiculous plea deal for next to no time after what can only be described as the most grisly, gruesome annihilation of an human being most have witnessed.

And then you have these two adorable children, through no fault of their own, are now smack in the middle of a child's worst nightmare- no parents remaining, having experienced and witnessed this hideous tragedy, and then having to struggle through being forced to endure living with people to whom they had no blood relation and all this after their father had so thoughtfully designated appropriate caregivers for them in the chance something awful befell him. Little could he have imagined the worst imaginable would pale in comparison to the actuality.

There's far too much air given to these monsters, and not nearly as much time spent delving into what horrible creatures this entire family is, and how manipulated the victim was and how poorly Molly treated him and his children.

An FBI agent who trained others to detect lies. His daughter, a model who lied for a living. And yet again, she lied, this time claiming her husband abused her. How do you verify such a claim? By trusting the liars.

I was genuinely disturbed by how convincingly she played the victim. Having known people like this in real life, those who lie so thoroughly they start to believe it themselves, this hit especially hard. It's a chilling reminder of how dangerous manipulation can be.

Surprisingly solid work from Netflix, especially given their recent track record with documentaries. And thank God it wasn't dragged out into three unnecessary episodes.