‘Under the Banner of Heaven’ Episode 1 Recap: Faith No More

“A Story of Violent Faith.” That’s how Under the Banner of Heaven, the bestselling true-crime book by journalist Jon Krakauer, bills itself. A journey into the secretive world of Mormon fundamentalism centered on a horrifying double murder, the book has now been adapted into the realm of true-crime television by showrunner Dustin Lance Black, who grew up Mormon himself. And based on this powerful first episode, it hits that one-two punch of both violence and faith hard—precisely the stuff compelling true-crime TV is so often made of.

The sprawling cast is led by Andrew Garfield as Detective Jeb Pyre, a devout Mormon cop (he leads his family in prayer even when he’s been placed on emergency duty) called in to investigate the brutal murders of a young woman named Brenda Lafferty (Daisy Edgar-Jones) and her 15-month-old daughter. When her blood-soaked husband Allen (Billy Howle), who called in the killings, surrenders himself to Jeb and his partner, Detective Bill Taba (Gil Birmingham), Taba is reasonably certain they’ve found their man. Why? Because it’s almost always the husband in these kinds of cases.

But Jeb is Mormon, unlike Taba (and white, also unlike Taba), and he’s familiar with the Laffertys as the product of one of the foremost Latter Day Saints families in the area—the Kennedys of Utah, he calls them. Through the cops’ interrogation of Allen, we get to know a bit about the wider Lafferty clan, including patriarch Ammon (Christopher Heyerdahl); Allen’s brothers Ron (Sam Worthington), Dan (Wyatt Russell), Sam (Rory Culkin), Robin (Seth Numrich), and Jacob (Taylor St. Pierre); and their spouses, most notably Ron’s wife Dianna (Denise Gough) and Dan’s wife Matilda (Chloe Pirrie).

The problem, according to Allen—who we learn has left the Church—began when Brenda first arrived on the scene, earning the disapproval of Ammon and several other family members, as well as the, let’s say, keen interest of brothers Ron and Dan. It’s not that Brenda was not herself a devout Mormon; on the contrary, she came from a fine LDS family and was a believer herself. But her good looks, plucky attitude, and modern ideas about making a living as a television news anchor before eventually settling down and having kids made her stick out like a sore thumb.

Utah, Allen points out, isn’t Idaho, and in Utah, Mormon beliefs run a lot deeper, and potentially a lot darker. Waxing rhapsodic about the religion, he says he misses the faith of founder Joseph Smith, for whom God was love. (Marrying his sweetheart Emma was a major step in Smith’s career as a prophet.) But somewhere along the line, Mormonism became the faith of the perpetrators of the Mountain Meadows Massacre, a bloody incident from 1859 in which LDS forces murdered dozens of travelers passing through the Utah Territory. “If you really still believe your God is love,” he tells Jeb, “then you don’t know who you are, brother. This faith, our faith, breeds dangerous men.”

How dangerous, and which men? With so many Laffertys to keep track of, that’s an open question, at least if you don’t look up the exact facts of the case first. It is worth pointing out, though, that there are other signs of schism within the Laffertys’ big happy family, most notably Ammon completely passing over eldest brother Ron while assigning the other sons roles in taking care of the family and its businesses and property while he’s away on a mission trip. Unlike Dan, who became a chiropractor like his dad, Ron founded his own construction company, and it seems Ammon never forgave him for striking out on his own. (Allen, too, is passed over; Ammon says he clearly has his hands full as-is, a pointed reference to Brenda’s ebullience and unorthodoxy.)

There are other possibilities to consider as well. Allen’s father-in-law claims to Taba that Allen beat Brenda; Allen denies this, though he does cop to having one fight. He’s far more concerned with his brothers, at least one of whom (Robin) made a run for it ahead of the cops before getting captured, and a mysterious group of bearded men who “corrupted [his] family.” Jeb wonders out loud about the possibility that devil worship was involved. It’s that hard for him to believe that a faithful family like the Laffertys could do this kind of thing. I have a feeling his own faith is about to be tested.

Whatever the case, the story makes for fine true-crime television so far. Part of that is down to the casting, which is uniformly excellent. There’s a sort of echo between Andrew Garfield as Jeb and Daisy Edgar-Jones as Brenda, for example—they both seem like affable, guy/girl-next-door types, which helps root the awful circumstances of the story in an “it can happen here” way. Christopher Heyerdahl, who played a terrifying religious fanatic in Them, brings some of that dark fire with him here as Ammon, a guy who looks extremely unpleasant if you’re on his bad side. I liked Wyatt Russell’s smarmy smile as favored son Dan and Sam Worthington’s barely repressed emotion as passed-over Ron. Even a stock detective character like Taba is invested with verve and vigor by Gil Birmingham.

Aside from the cast, Under the Banner of Heaven distinguished itself so far with its use of blink-and-you’ll-miss-them snatches of flashbacks, often lit brightly by the sun as if in contrast with the night work of the detectives. This is how we see the story of Joseph Smith unfold as Allen narrates it; the cross-cutting between historical figures and the modern-day plot (which echoes the structure of Jon Krakauer’s original book) and between recent and distant memories takes on an almost hallucinatory rhythm at times.

With a strong premiere under its belt and a surfeit of suspects to keep it busy, Under the Banner of Heaven is one of the most promising true-crime series I’ve seen in some time. Writer/creator Dustin Lance Black and director David Mackenzie have gotten things off to a dark and engrossing start. I expect the road to “case closed” will be a difficult but rewarding one.

Sean T. Collins (@theseantcollins) writes about TV for Rolling Stone, Vulture, The New York Times, and anyplace that will have him, really. He and his family live on Long Island.