About “Absentia” in a few words:

Absentia is a tense psychological crime drama about FBI Special Agent Emily Byrne, who vanishes while hunting a serial killer and is presumed dead. Six years later, she’s found — traumatized and with no memory of her disappearance. Returning home, she faces a changed life: her husband has remarried, her son hardly knows her, and she’s pulled into new, deadly conspiracies.

Meet the characters from Absentia

Emily Byrne

Emily is the beating, furious heart of Absentia — tough as nails, haunted, and oddly compassionate all rolled into one. She’s an ex‑FBI agent who survived being missing for years and came back with a temper, a mission, and a bunch of emotional scars she’ll use like tools (and sometimes like weapons). She flips between hyper‑focused detective mode and exhausted, gentle caregiver — like, one minute she’s dismantling a suspect’s alibi, the next she’s making grilled cheese at 2 a.m. for reasons I can’t explain; also she sometimes whispers to herself, which is both endearing and terrifying.

Nick Durand

Nick is the steady, quietly desperate center of a lot of the show’s emotional gravity — loyal, principled, and awkwardly romantic in the worst and best ways. He’s the kind of cop who carries guilt like a favorite jacket: worn, familiar, and impossible to throw away even when it smells. He tries to do the right thing and then gets punished for it (story of his life), and there’s this constant tension between his career mind and the man who just wants simple, normal things — like dinner without secrets. He’s practical but sentimental, and I swear he reorganizes drawers when he’s stressed; weirdly soothing.

Jack Byrne

Jack is the kid who’s seen too much but still clings to sarcasm like a shield — moody, intensely loyal to his family, and startlingly perceptive. He’s kind of a walking contradiction: teenage grump, tiny philosopher, and occasional softie who’ll hide an affectionate note in a book if you catch him (if you catch him — he’s stealthy). He’s matured way past what’s fair but he’s also stubbornly, refreshingly human; one day he’s slamming doors, the next he’s rescuing a stray animal or doing something inexplicably kind. Also I’m pretty sure he has a secret playlist of terrible pop songs and listens to them on repeat when no one’s looking.

Warren Byrne

Warren is the gruff, protective presence who feels like a rock you can accidentally stub your toe on — blunt, fierce, and low‑key sentimental under a crusty exterior. He’s the sort who gives one‑word advice and somehow it fixes things (or makes them worse, depends on your definition of “fix”). He distrusts drama, loves practical solutions, and will absolutely judge you for your life choices while quietly helping you out of a jam. He drinks awful tea at dawn, wears a jacket that’s older than most relationships, and insists he doesn’t cry at all (but maybe he does, in private, with the curtains closed).

Agent Crown

Agent Crown is all cool suits, clipped sentences, and that “I know more than I’m saying” vibe — the classic professional foil who’ll make you squint at his motives. He’s efficient, surgical with information, and borderline maddening because he rarely plays by anyone’s emotional rules; sometimes he’s helpful, sometimes he’s ominous, and honestly that’s the fun of him. He’s the kind of agent who uses paperwork like a weapon and has a terrifyingly calm poker face — which means you can never tell if he’s going to slam a file on the table or slide you a lifeline. Also I half expect him to have a weird hobby — stamp collecting? bonsai trimming? — things that are calming and suspicious at once.