Brooklyn Nine-Nine is a comedy about cops in Brooklyn. It follows detectives at 99th precinct of NYPD. You have Andy Samberg as goofy Jake Peralta and Andre Braugher as serious but lovable Captain Raymond Holt. The show has sharp writing and funny characters. Fans have loved it since 2013. It is a wild ride of laughter and feels.

Meet the villains from Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Madeline Wuntch

Ohhhh Wuntch — the ultimate bureaucratic thorn in everyone’s side, especially Holt’s, and she does it with that icy little smirk like she’s handing you a paperclip of doom. She’s delightfully petty, loves red tape, and somehow manages to make promotions feel like personal vendettas (also probably collects teacups even though she never drinks tea? I think?). Extremely sharp, always two steps ahead with paperwork and passive-aggressive awards, but secretly you feel like she’d pet a dog if it weren’t beneath her. She’s equal parts boardroom assassin and slightly theatrical villain, and yes she will totally use a committee to ruin your Tuesday.

Keith Pembroke

Ah, The Vulture — the guy who swoops in at the last second to take credit like some literal credit-stealing bird, and you both hate and admire his audacity. He’s obnoxious, smooth-talking, and somehow convinced himself he’s charming even while being obnoxious, which is impressive in a tragically annoying way. Loves flashy suits, worse ideas, and making a triumphant phone call at the worst moment; secretly maybe cries at rom-coms? Don’t quote me on that. He embodies opportunism — will gladly destroy your case for a promotion and a decent lunch.

Jimmy Figgis

Figgis is the kind of crime boss that feels like he stepped out of a grease-stained crime novel — loud, violent when necessary, but with weird little hobbies like keeping a pristine bonsai or an oddly curated mixtape (I swear he has one). He’s ruthless and scars both physically and emotionally, yet somehow occasionally tries to be paternal to his crew, which sort of works and then totally doesn’t. Terrifyingly clever in a streetwise way, he’s more about muscle and message than subtlety, but don’t underestimate his planning — he’s not sloppy, just… emotionally undercooked. There’s an old-school gangster vibe with a modern temper, and you can almost see him humming show tunes while making terrible decisions.

Eleanor Horstweil

Eleanor is this quietly menacing presence — very official-sounding, very composed, and then she’ll drop a detail that ruins your day and your alibi, like it’s nothing. She’s measured, bureaucratically efficient, maybe a little too fond of law books, and kind of loves the sound of her own case files; also maybe she doodles hearts in the margins sometimes? That sudden switch from genteel to relentless prosecutor is what makes her so memorable — she’ll smile and then hand you a crushing pile of evidence. Basically the most polite nightmare you could imagine: tea-sipping, brief-waving, and totally unforgiving.

Melanie Hawkins

Melanie is the weirdly charismatic mastermind who keeps you off balance — sunny on the surface, and then you realize she’s rearranged your life like a jigsaw puzzle without asking. She’s the blend of suburban mom aesthetic and cold-blooded planner; picture floral curtains and a meticulously labeled toolbox with sinister contents. Exceptionally manipulative and calm under pressure, but also has these odd tender moments that make you suspicious (or slightly sympathetic? don’t get soft). She’s the kind of villain who makes you admire the craft and then immediately plot how to stop her — so infuriatingly competent.

Seamus Murphy

Seamus reads like an old-school mob don with a gruff laugh and a surprising fondness for classic Irish ballads, which is weirdly comforting until things get ugly. He’s imposing, territorial, and runs his operations with a strict code that he’ll happily ignore when it suits him — honor among thieves, kind of, but only on Saturdays. There’s this wild mix of tradition and brutality: he’ll insist on formal introductions and then demand a cut of your conscience. He’s the kind of antagonist who makes you respect the rules he breaks; also probably owns an antique boat and swears by it for stress relief.

Dustin Whitman

Dustin is the smooth, slippery type who smiles too easily and has a hobby that’s suspiciously niche — like restoring vintage cameras or collecting expired coupons, something oddly meticulous for a con artist. He’s charming, a little roguish, and talks his way through trouble with the confidence of a man who memorized everyone’s lies before breakfast. Sometimes he’s ridiculously clever, other times he trips over his own schemes because he can’t help being flashy; inconsistent but entertaining. Basically the charismatic trickster: wins your trust, rearranges your life, and leaves you both furious and impressed.

Ernest Zumowski

Ernest is delightfully weird in that unsettling way — looks normal enough but has these off-kilter habits, like whistling nursery rhymes at suspicious times and collecting postcards from crimes like they’re souvenirs. He’s methodical and unnerving, very patient, and seems to enjoy the little details other people miss; also might bake terrible muffins when nervous, I dunno. Calm on the outside, choreographed chaos on the inside — he plans with a neatness that makes you itchy. He’s the low-key mastermind everyone underestimates until it’s too late, then you remember the postcards and realize you should have listened to your gut.