Ozark dives into life of Byrde family. They are just your average suburban family from Chicago, until money-laundering mess sends them packing to Ozarks. There, chaos reigns. Local drug cartels, rival businesses and FBI all come knocking. Intricate plots twist and turn, with strong performances and heavy, dark vibes. It’s a wild ride. You might just find yourself holding your breath.

Meet the characters from Ozark

Martin Byrde

Marty is the calculator-with-a-heart — calm, ridiculously clever with money and always three spreadsheets ahead of everyone else. He’s the kind of guy who will calmly explain a laundering scheme while actually sweating like a madman inside, which is somehow his vibe: composed panic. Family-first in theory, business-first in practice, and weirdly nostalgic about hotel soaps he’s collected on the road (or did I make that up?). He hates chaos but seems magnetically attracted to it, like a man who organizes storms.

Wendy Byrde

Wendy is pure kinetic energy wrapped in a blazer — ambitious, ruthless, and somehow terrifyingly competent at politics and manipulation. She loves control (obsessively) and also occasionally makes impulsive, dramatic decisions that somehow work out or make things worse in a beautiful trainwreck way. She’s a mother, strategist, and secret thrill-seeker; she’ll plan a campaign and then binge-eat something ridiculous at 2 a.m., no shame. There’s a coldness under her smarts but also these tiny, weird tender moments she tries to smother; contradictory and excellent.

Charlotte Byrde

Charlotte is that awkward teenager who’s way more observant than anyone gives her credit for — moody, sullen, and actually kind of scary when she’s quietly plotting. She wants normalcy (I think? sometimes yes, sometimes no), loves animals or maybe just likes drawing them, and resents the whole grown-up mess she’s been roped into. She’ll sulk in the corner reading a book and then drop a brutally honest line that slaps you awake, like how do you even? Confused but sharp, hurt but funny, and she definitely sleeps in weird positions.

Jonah Byrde

Jonah is brilliant and disturbingly calm for a kid who’s seen too much — techy, ethically flexible, and always three steps away from building something that freaks you out. He’s curious in a way that’s equal parts genius and terrifying (robotics, bugs, secret notebook? yes to all), and he actually cares about complicated things instead of the obvious. Loves rules when they make sense and breaks them when they don’t, but also has a weird soft spot for his family that sneaks out at weird moments. He’s the kid who would invent a better lie detector and then feel guilty, maybe.

Ruth Langmore

Ruth is small but nuclear — rough-hewn genius with survival instincts so sharp they glint, loyal to a fault and furious when crossed. She’s street-smart, fast-talking, and reads people like they’re open books; also loves money more than she’ll admit, except when she doesn’t. She’ll crack a joke in a tense room and then light up a cigarette with the same hand, which is both tragic and kind of iconic. Fierce but weirdly tender in private, and contradictory in the best way: wants escape but keeps pulling back to the only family she knows.

Darlene Snell

Darlene is the farmhouse queen of chaos — old-school, vicious, and oddly domestic in how she runs terrible enterprises like they’re potlucks. She’s patient and patient and then suddenly not: quiet as a snake one second, furious like a thunderstorm the next. She keeps animals, talks to them, and also negotiates violent deals with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes — maternal in a very twisted way. You never quite know if she’s lying, telling the truth, or plotting both at once, which makes her deliciously dangerous.

Wyatt Langmore

Wyatt is the soft, accidental philosopher of the wrong side of town — awkward, polite, kind of tragic but trying so hard to be better. He’s loyal in an old-fashioned way, usually shuffling along behind bigger personalities and somehow staying calm through insane things. He draws? he works with his hands? something artsy and also practical — he’s confusingly patient and impulsive at the same time. Wants normal life but clings to family codes; a shy underdog who will surprise you.

Rachel

Rachel is the small-town bar person who feels like she’s seen everything and pretends she hasn’t, flirty and fragile in the same breath. She manages chaos like a pro — schedules, gossip, spilled drinks — and then quietly freaks out about big choices when no one’s looking. She gives advice she maybe didn’t mean, keeps weird little mementos in a drawer (mismatched sugar packets? a hazy memory), and is more complicated than she appears. Friendly, a little broken, and somehow very human in the best soap-soaked way.

Roy Petty

Roy Petty is the obsessed agent type — outwardly methodical and by-the-book, but with a messy, personal vendetta simmering underneath like bad coffee. He’s clever, manipulative when he needs to be, and also has this weird soft side that pops up at the wrong moments (honest crying? surprising). He’ll chase a case like it’s a personal art project, then cross lines and justify it with a sigh and a cigarette. Professional but fragile, meticulous but prone to reckless intensity — complicated, basically.

Jacob Snell

Jacob Snell is old-school criminal royalty — stoic, territorial, and weirdly traditional for a guy running a shady operation. He’s calm, stubborn, and believes in his own rules, like some rural kingpin who also enjoys hunting and quiet afternoons (maybe). He values honor in a twisted, grim way and expects loyalty like it’s currency, which means crossing him is a very bad idea. Quietly menacing, sometimes poetic in a brutal way, and not someone you want in your path.

Sam Dermody

Sam Dermody is the slippery local fixer — opportunistic, smarmy, and always looking for the angle that benefits him the most. He plays both sides, complains about loyalty, and drinks bad coffee while pretending it’s fine; petty but persistent. He wants respect but pays for it with backstabbing and small betrayals, which somehow keeps him alive longer than he deserves. Annoying, useful, and frankly kind of predictable in an exhausting way.