Previously on Jessica Jones: Jessica falls into some garbage. Jessica threatens Jeri’s estranged wife. Jessica tries to get sent into super-max prison. Jessica moves in with Kilgrave. It was perhaps not her best decision-making ever—all of it, really.
Well, this certainly ranks among some of the worst homecomings of all time. Jessica is back in her childhood home, back with Kilgrave. As you will no doubt recall with horror, he has purchased Jessica’s childhood home. Now he is in the midst of some deranged game of house in an unconscionable attempt to win her love.
Kilgrave and his armed guard are doing everything in their power to make Jessica feel comfortable. Except exactly the opposite. This is a man who genuinely thinks he can get the woman he kidnapped, raped and enslaved to consent to be with him and love him forever. We’ve gone past mere arrogance into fully delusional unhinged egotism with this one. He is also perhaps the most perfect villain possible for the GamerGate age.
Kilgrave has decorated it exactly as it was when Jessica’s family lived there down to the Nirvana and Green Day posters in her bedroom. The detail is sickening, as is everything else about this whole scenario. Trish calls and Kilgrave allows her to answer because, remember, he’s really a good guy. Also, a little appreciation for all his hard work would be nice. And don’t forget to smile.
Trish says she is tired of missing Jessica, which once again proves the great romance of this show is between these two. She also tells Jess that Simpson is missing, which once again proves the great pain-in-the-ass of this show is that dude.
While Jessica exhaustion naps from all the mind-fuckery, Kilgrave waits impatiently for her at dinner. When she doesn’t show, he confesses the unbearableness of not being able to control people. Ugh, isn’t it the worst when people have their own agency? Boo-hoo, they just do what I want when I want because I want it.
When she does come down to eat she takes a liquid dinner instead, and Kilgrave chides her about her drinking because, never forget, he is the worst. When she tells him it’s his fault he is incredulous because, again, see above. He insists it “wasn’t all bad.” I don’t even know where to start, so I won’t.
Jessica can’t take it either, so she smashes her now empty wine bottle against the wall. As if on cue, the chef and housekeeper rush in with razors to their necks. You see, a man like Kilgrave doesn’t ever believe in an even playing field. There are always safeguards.
Jessica leaves the table and heads back upstairs. But she notices one of the doors ajar. It’s Simpson there to rescue her. White male hero complex strikes again. He thinks she is under Kilgrave’s mind control, she thinks he’s an asshole. Only one of them is right.
She alerts the house to the bomb, and Kilgrave guesses it was Simpson who planted it. As he tsk-tsks about the innocent lives that would have been lost, Jessica calls him on his hypocrisy. But he insists he has never killed anyone. Sure, neither did Charles Manson. But they’re both still cold-blooded murderers.
Of course, Kilgrave reads Jessica telling them about the bomb as her actually caring for him. I swear every time he talks I mime sticking my finger in my mouth and make a gagging noise.
In billable hours heaven, two divorce lawyers are dreaming about the new Teslas they’re gonna buy. Jeri and Wendy are also there, arguing about money and love and kindness. Wendy wants 70 percent of Jeri’s assets. Considering Jeri is leaving with Pam, Wendy considers it more than fair. It’s ugly and it’s bitter and it’s painful. Hey, just because it’s legal for us to marry in every state now, doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll be any better at it.
Trish is doing her own sleuthing and tracks down Simpson, who has taken a leave from the police force and is now just full-time bro-ing it up with his ex-special forces buddies. Trish presses him on finding Kilgrave, but he says everyone can’t be a hero. Translation: You’re a girl and will probably get hurt.
Jessica wakes with a start from a very bloody familial guilt nightmare in which they demand she, “Make it right.” Over breakfast, Jess tries to get Kilgrave talking and records it on the phone she swiped from Simpson. But then the nosey neighbor shows up and starts yammering.
But then she starts talking about how she knew something terrible was going to happen the morning of the accident. Kilgrave challenges her, and she admits she didn’t know anything and only says things to feel important. It’s both cathartic and horrifying to watch.
But then Kilgrave tries to make it a touching moment, quite literally, and Jessica lashes out. That was her one rule—no touching. Kilgrave follows her in saying they used to do more than just touch hands. Oh. No. He. Didn’t.
Jessica snaps around and we just know it’s going to be good. Not “good” in the happy and pure sense, but “good” in the righteous and true sense. She looks him straight in the eyes and says, “Yeah, it’s called rape.” Kilgrave doesn’t get it because they stayed in five-star hotels and ate in the best restaurants. Oh, I got it, it’s only rape if you stay at Motel 6 and eat at McDonalds.
But Jessica makes it perfectly clear, rape is when a woman doesn’t want it—any of it. And not only did Kilgrave violate her sexually, he violated “every cell in my body and every thought in my goddamn head.” Kilgrave counters with, “But I didn’t mean it—so we’re cool, right?” No, dude, no.
But he continues his pity party because how is he supposed to know if he is raping someone. Women just always do what he says. Plus he didn’t have loving parents who taught him right from wrong. And he has to be so careful with what he says on account of his mind control and all. Feel sorry for him, his life is so haaaaard.
But Jessica pulls out her Dead Parents trump card and tells him to go to hell. So Kilgrave pulls out his “proof.” It’s that flash drive he had Jessica dig up the night he had her kill Reva. It shows him as a boy being subjected to experiments from his scientist parents. Admittedly, it looked pretty terrible. But then a monster that is created is still a monster that has to be stopped.
Kilgrave is now pouting because nobody—and more specifically Jessica—doesn’t understand him. Jessica, who has been recording everything dutifully, asks if all the bad shit he does is because no one ever taught him how to be good. So she conducts her own experiment to see if he can be taught.
She takes him to the scene of a hostage situation, where a man has been holding his family at gunpoint, to try his hand at that hero thing. He talks them through the police line, she busts them into the house. They rescue the family, and then Jessica stops him from having the father blow his own face off. Kilgrave calls it all a “Waste of energy,” but Jessica asks if it was since he just saved four lives. Guess some folks just aren’t teachable after all.
But Kilgrave is invigorated with the gratitude and worship that comes with that whole being a hero thing. Plus he sees this as a way to balance the scales—take a life, save a life, and come out even on the cosmic balance sheets. Jessica realizes he can’t do good without her as a moral compass, and then leaves to clear her head.
And then we see it; we see the accident that killed Jessica’s family. We flashback to that road trip. A teenage Jessica is refusing to give her little brother back his Gameboy. They squabble, her dad turns to yell at her, and then boom—they crash into the back of a truck.
It’s a scene that has played out with hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of families on road trips—minus, hopefully, the boom-crash part. But that one moment of perfectly normal teenage behavior cost Jessica her entire family.
Jessica clears her head all the way to Trish’s place. She knocks and Trish embraces her instantly. She tells her she has been with Kilgrave. Trish responds in the only way possible, which is to say, “Living with Kilgrave, what the hell?”
She came to ask “WWTD—What would Trish do.” What would she do if you could harness Kilgrave’s powers for good. Trish replies, rightly, that you can’t because of the whole psychopath thing. But Jessica continues and says what if you could if you stayed with him to guide him. What if, by giving up her life, she could change the world. What if she could finally make it right?
Kilgrave is impatiently waiting for Jessica to return, and torturing the help on the side. Jeri texts Jessica demanding she find the dirt on Wendy who continues blackmailing her into a settlement. Kilgrave, who still has Jessica’s phone, intercepts the messages and replies back, “Bitches right? I’m on it.” Aw, isn’t casual misogyny so adorbs? Smiley face emoji, winky face emoji, angry demon face emoji.
Jessica returns to her childhood home, unusually chipper. She has brought Chinese takeout and tells Kilgrave he might be right about the working together to balance the scales business. Then she encourages him, and the help, to dig in. He is wary, but Jessica tries his food to reassure him it’s not drugged.
And, indeed, it wasn’t drugged. The help’s food was drugged. She then jabs him with the knock out drugs, because the Jessica Jones way. On her way out she runs first into Kilgrave’s security and then into Simpson and his commandos. He wants to take Kilgrave out for good, but Jessica won’t allow it—so she flies/guided falls away.
But remember when I said a guy like Kilgrave always has a failsafe? The nosey neighbor walks up to him with a gift bag stuffed with a very explosive present. OK, now I feel kind of bad for the nosey neighbor. For Simpson … eh.
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