Open letter: What Kate Beckett from ‘Castle’ needs to hear
Stana Katic as Kate Beckett on “Castle” over the years (Getty Images)
As part of an ongoing series, Yahoo Canada is profiling personal experiences in open letters. For more from the series, click here.
To the extraordinary Kate Beckett,
You’re a fictional character so you’ll never have the chance to read this. You’ll never get to know the impact you’ve had, how you’ve inspired me and countless others to change our lives, and the legacy that you leave behind in this physical world. To some, it might seem silly and inconsequential, but your story is one that will live with me forever, one that should be celebrated for the strength, courage and determination you’ve taught us all.
The first time I ‘met’ you was sometime in the spring of 2009. I don’t remember what month it was, or even which episode I first saw. Truthfully, I was hardly paying much attention at all. I was 21, just finishing up my third year of college, and watching TV in my free time was really the furthest thing from my mind. I wasn’t a fan of yours or of “Castle” itself back then – far from it, actually. In those early days, I only caught bits and pieces of the show when my mother tuned in on Monday nights. I recall being confused, asking her why the guy I recognized from one of her soap operas was wearing a vest labeled 'WRITER’ instead of 'POLICE’.
Nathan Fillion as Castle (Canadian Press)
My point is, I didn’t know who Richard Castle was. I didn’t know his significance to you, or why he insisted on tagging along on your homicide cases (much to your supreme, but oft-feigned, annoyance) – and I didn’t know you, Kate Beckett. Honestly, I didn’t even care to – not back then – but it wouldn’t be long until you revealed a piece of yourself to the audience, something that was so profound and close to my heart that it had me caught – hook, line, and sinker – until the end of the series this week.
I finally became a full-fledged “Castle” fan on January 18, 2010. It was the night I learned that there was more to you than originally meets the eye. The week prior, I had finally allowed myself to indulge in my first full-length episode of the series, one in which you and Rick Castle solve the case of a murdered bridesmaid. I was initially drawn in by your sense of humour, the sass and now-legendary eye-rolls. It also helped that we shared the same given name, making me gravitate toward you naturally in a subconscious way. I loved your no-nonsense attitude, and the fact that you could demand respect by sheer presence alone. You weren’t just some pretty face on the police force with a playboy writer tailing your heels; you earned your place as a leader and no one undermined your authority and got away with it. You were smart as a whip, kicking ass and taking names, leaving everyone around you in awe. At the same time you were imperfect, a character with strengths and attributes I admired, even tried to emulate and develop in myself over time. Your flaws grounded you, made you real, and something a mere mortal like myself could actually aspire toward.
And then, I learned that your mother had been murdered.
Here I was, midway through the second season finally getting a glimpse into the darker side of what made you Detective Kate Beckett. Your obsession, your drive. I can’t even begin to comprehend what it would be like to lose a parent to tragedy, especially at a young age. Still, your struggle felt so familiar to me. That desperate need for answers, to keep pushing relentlessly for closure in spite of the odds and how difficult it was on you. That night, I made it a point to find every episode in the series and I devoured them until I knew everything about Detective Kate Beckett.
January 18th, 2010 may have been the date when I became a true fan of yours, but it would be another year until I truly began to identify with the struggle and darkness that stirred something deep inside me. It finally clicked after you were shot by a sniper at your captain’s funeral, suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder in the aftermath.
At the age of 15 I developed a seemingly mild panic disorder that quickly progressed into something so debilitating that I couldn’t function as a normal teen anymore, let alone a young adult when I came of age. Just the thought of leaving my house and going to school would spark panic attacks, never mind trying to accomplish day-to-day tasks such as a quick trip to the grocery store or hanging out with my friends. All of these normal activities became a war for me, one I was waging against myself and one that, after years of struggling, I had written off as a hopeless cause. I never thought I would get better, never thought that I’d be “normal” again. I tried therapy on two separate occasions, and they put me on pills, but nothing seemed to work. I became the agoraphobic girl who rarely ever left her house for fear of freaking out in public, and fear of fear itself.
And then there you were, my most admired heroine, the one who shared my name and had all the qualities that I, as a young adult, wanted so desperately to see in myself. Suddenly, you’d gone from kicking ass and taking names to dealing with some of my struggles. Your hands shook like mine did. Your eyes darted around the room in a wild haze. You showed weakness, vulnerability. You were pushed beyond your threshold and now you were just like me.
But you wanted to be more.
I cried with you when Detective Esposito broke down your deepest fears – the sniper rifle that pierced your heart was a measly tool with no magical powers, just like a classroom or grocery store environment was nothing for me to be afraid of, either. The man who fired at you wasn’t some all-powerful God, and my panic attacks weren’t something that had absolute control over me. He was just a guy with a gun. He was just damaged goods.
“So am I,” you said.
So am I, I thought, tears streaming down my face.
“And that’s okay.”
The episode titled Kill Shot was a turning point in my life and battle against panic disorder. For the first time since my fight had begun, I had someone to look up to. Kate Beckett wasn’t content with the broken pieces of her former self, the girl obsessed with the violent murder that destroyed her family. A girl tormented by the same violence that had destroyed her.
“I’ve let it define me, drive me…It’s made me who I am. But now, I want to be more than who I am.”
She wanted to be more – she was determined to be more. I wanted to be more, too.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so hopeless anymore.
The night after that episode, I started pushing myself. There was a point in my life where I couldn’t even walk my dogs around the block without feeling my heart race, my hands start to shake and sweat.
I went out that evening and I walked my dogs around the damn block. (I thought I was going to have a heart attack, but I did it.)
There was no stopping me anymore. I kept on going. I went to the grocery store and forced myself to stay in line, not abandon my cart and flee the store for the safety of my car. I started taking classes on campus again, instead of hiding in online lecture because of my crippling fears.
I put in the time, and I did the work, just like you did.
I got a job as a writer, and I was able to make a living off recounting your story as it unfolded each week. I regaled your achievements, I applauded your strength, and in the meantime I was making my own progress, too. I went to fan events, something I never thought would have been possible given how broken I used to feel. I interviewed cast and crew members, and even had the opportunity to visit the set.
Screenshot: @Katejennz Twitter
I started to make something of myself. I wasn’t the scared little girl anymore. I was finally me again. I’m more than I was, and that’s all thanks to you.
Kate Beckett, you were my inspiration to be a better, stronger person, and I can never thank you enough for the instrumental role you played in inspiring me to be 'more.’ I’ve had plenty of setbacks over the years and I’m still not completely 'cured’ of the darkness that plagued my life, but you taught me never to let go, back down or give up on a better future. I won’t.
This week, I had to say goodbye to you, and though I’m sad knowing you’ll be missing from my Monday nights forever, I won’t be sad for long. I’ll always have the memories and reminders to look back on, to relive and re-learn whenever I need or want to.
As you and Captain Roy Montgomery once said, “There are no victories; there’s only the battle. And in the end, the best you can hope for is to find a place to make your stand. And if you’re very lucky, you find someone willing to stand with you.”
You made your stand, Beckett, and in doing so I was able to stand with you. You didn’t just seek out your success and happiness, you fought for it tooth and nail until it was within your grasp. Your character is one I’ll continue to aspire to be like, and the lessons you’ve taught us will be with me, with all of us…
Always.
Watch the final 2 minutes of “Castle’s” series finale:
