I am binge watching John Mortimore's Rumpole of the Bailey. (I also own three volumes of his collected short stories.) In the usual courtroom drama, the main character is a handsome, insightful defense attorney, in a murder trial, adeptly defending an innocent client . Always, the truth comes out, and the defendant is acquitted. In comparison, Rumpole is a crusty, blubbery, hard-drinking, cheroot-smoking, irascible English barrister, sometimes defending murder defendants but more often just minor villains. Sometimes he gets his clients off; sometimes not. Sometimes they're guilty; sometimes not. But in Mortimore's stories, there is always an undertone of bittersweet regret.