Broadchurch premiered in 2013 and ran for three seasons. Small seaside town. A young boy’s murder. Community in chaos. Police procedural? Sure. But it also digs into messy relationships and secrets. This makes it a real emotional rollercoaster. People love it. Great writing, acting, direction. It has won awards. It is a modern classic of crime drama. So, grab your popcorn and prepare for some serious feels.

Meet the characters from Broadchurch

Alec Hardy

Alec is the gruff, relentless detective who looks like he’s been up for three days and somehow still solves the unsolvable. He’s brilliant in a brittle, impatient way — the kind of brain that chews on details until they cough up the truth, and also the type who forgets dinner plans but remembers obscure case law. There’s a sort of lonely hero vibe, with old habits (and probably a flask? maybe tea?) that make him both infuriating and oddly comforting. He can be terrifyingly blunt and then, when you least expect it, quietly human — like a man who hates small talk but rescues cats.

D.S. Ellie Miller

Ellie is the warm, stubborn heart of the show, fiercely loyal to her town and maddeningly persistent in a good way. She’s that neighbour who brings you a casserole and then asks three uncomfortable questions about your weekend, but she actually cares, you know? A bit messy emotionally — proud of her roots, sometimes narrow in vision, and also incredibly brave when it counts. She’s practical, maternal (sometimes to a fault), and has this straight-shooting honesty that people either love or need to get used to.

Beth Latimer

Beth is softly spoken but quietly volcanic — the kind of person grief made stone, and then maybe cracked a little. She carries this enormous, private sorrow and tries to hold pieces of a family together with small domestic rituals (recipes, bedtime routines, whatever steadies her). You get the sense she’s both fragile and stubbornly strong, like porcelain that’s been glued but still shines. Odd little details stick — she can be wonderfully petty one minute and profoundly selfless the next, which is probably what keeps her real.

Mark Latimer

Mark is raw, angry, and achingly human; he’s the classic grief-fueled man who wants answers and isn’t subtle about it. He oscillates between being protective and projecting, which makes him unpredictable but painfully understandable. There’s this funny image of him trying to be competent with kids and failing spectacularly (but trying hard) — he loves clumsy, practical things like fishing or mending a fence, I think. Deep down he’s trying to be a rock, even when he’s more like a loose stone rolling down the hill.

Maggie Radcliffe

Maggie is the polished, composed community leader who can be sharp as a tack and sometimes a little chilly — like a person who arranges fundraisers in her head before breakfast. She’s efficient and political, always weighing town reputation against messy human truth, which makes her both admirable and quietly infuriating. She cares about order and the public face of things, but there’s a surprisingly soft spot that sneaks out at inopportune times. Slightly prim, slightly ruthless, and probably has a note-perfect organizational drawer somewhere.

Rev. Paul Coates

Rev. Paul is the gentle, moral compass type — kindly, worried, and a bit out of his depth with the town’s nastier edges. He genuinely wants to help people, offers up awkward condolences and cups of tea, and tries not to be judgemental (which is harder than it looks). He can be guileless in a way that’s endearing, sometimes misses sarcasm, and carries the weight of being “the nice man” even when it’s unfair. Also, he probably writes bad poetry in the margins of church newsletters; don’t tell anyone I said that.

Chloe Latimer

Chloe is quietly complicated — teenaged, brittle around the edges, and not as fragile as she seems. She has the kind of silence that holds secrets, and she flips between being withdrawn and shockingly brave, which keeps everyone guessing. There’s a streak of survival in her: practical, observant, and sometimes startlingly honest when she cracks. She also probably listens to weird music and pretends not to care about small-town gossip while filing every last bit away.

Tom Miller

Tom is awkward, sweet, and trying his best while the world collides around him — like the kid who wants to be invisible but also noticed. He’s shy in a real, honest way, tends to mumble more than speak, and has this earnest loyalty to his family that feels rare. At times he’s painfully naive and then, in a blink, unexpectedly brave; it’s confusing in the best possible way. He probably has odd hobbies (model kits? weird snack preferences?) that make him quietly endearing.

Joe Miller

Joe is practical, plainspoken, and often the most grounded presence — the bloke who’ll fix your fence and say something blunt about the weather while actually meaning well. He’s protective to a fault, can be stubborn, and has this thing where he tries to hold everything together even when he’s fraying. There’s a warmth under the grumpy exterior, but also a temper that’ll flare when pushed (not hero-movie style, more like kettle-on-boil). He’s proof that ordinary people are complicated and that being decent is sometimes the hardest role of all.

Nige Carter

Nige is loud, sharp, and weirdly lovable — the small-town troublemaker with a big heart and questionable decision-making skills. He talks too much, maybe jokes at the wrong moments, and yet he’s fiercely loyal to his mates in a way that surprises you. A bit scrappy and defensive, he presents bravado but has a knack for doing the right thing when it matters (even if he sulks about it). He probably keeps a ridiculous gag collection or an old, battered moped that smells like petrol; charmingly chaotic.