Okay, everyone I think everyone agrees that Pablo Escobar has been done to death. But this series comes from a new vantage point – that of his son.
Dear Killer Nannies is one of the most distinctive and emotionally resonant crime dramas of recent years — a coming-of-age story told from inside one of history’s most infamous households rather than another retread of Pablo Escobar’s empire.
Co-created by Juan Pablo Escobar (Sebastián Marroquín) himself, the eight-episode Hulu/Disney+ miniseries follows young Juampi as he grows up in luxury in 1980s Medellín, surrounded by bodyguards he treats as playmates and nannies. He sees his father as a generous benefactor. The devastating revelation that those caregivers are hired killers, and that his father is the world’s most wanted drug trafficker, is handled with unusual restraint and psychological honesty.
What sets the series apart is its focus on the quieter devastation of a child losing his innocence. The obligatory shootouts and car crashes exist, but the real impact comes from bloodless moments: a boy finishing off an injured animal because the men around him treat it as normal, the slow collapse of his idealized image of his father, and the weight of a surname that turns his life into a flight from death. The time jumps between childhood, adolescence, and later years feel purposeful rather than gimmicky, building a portrait of inherited trauma and the struggle to choose a different path.
The performances elevate the material. John Leguizamo brings unexpected warmth and complexity to Pablo, portraying a loving father whose affection is constantly at war with his criminal life. The young actors playing Juampi at different ages — especially Miguel Tamayo as the seven-year-old — capture both wide-eyed belief and the first cracks of understanding with remarkable naturalism. The ensemble of “nannies” (Juanita Molina, Danharry Colorado, Rafael Zea, and others) makes the surreal domestic arrangement feel lived-in and strangely intimate: hardened killers who are also dysfunctional uncles and protectors. Laura Rodríguez grounds the family as Victoria, a mother desperately trying to shield her children while knowing the truth.
The first-person narration by the real Juan Pablo adds a layer of intimacy and moral ambiguity that most cartel stories lack. The show never excuses the violence or the empire, but it humanizes the boy caught in its crossfire and the men assigned to keep him alive. Production values, period atmosphere, and the mix of Spanish-language authenticity with accessible storytelling make it bingeable in its half-hour episodes without sacrificing weight.
This is not just another Pablo Escobar show. It is a surprisingly literate examination of adultification, masculinity, loyalty, and the long shadow of a last name. For anyone who thinks the subject has been exhausted, Dear Killer Nannies proves there was still a deeply personal story left to tell — and it tells it with heart, craft, and unexpected tenderness.
Make sure to give it a watch. Four stars from me.
Mark's Writing Corner 