Netflix’s 4-Part Series Return Proves This Near-Perfect Rotten Tomatoes Thriller Has Aged Like Fine Wine

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Patrick Fischler in a scene from The Lincoln Lawyer

Published Feb 10, 2026, 12:55 PM EST

Amanda M. Castro is a Network TV writer at Collider and a New York–based journalist whose work has appeared in Newsweek, where she contributes as a Live Blog Editor, and The U.S. Sun, where she previously served as a Senior Consumer Reporter.

She specializes in network television coverage, delivering sharp, thoughtful analysis of long-running procedural hits and ambitious new dramas across broadcast TV. At Collider, Amanda explores character arcs, storytelling trends, and the cultural impact of network series that keep audiences tuning in week after week.

Born and raised in Puerto Rico, Amanda is bilingual and holds a degree in Communication, Film, and Media Studies from the University of New Haven.

When The Lincoln Lawyer was released on Netflix in 2022, it felt like a nostalgic experience: a slickly made, character-centric legal drama that did not treat its audience as idiots by attempting to bore them with excessive procedural detail. Four seasons later, the series has held up and quietly become one of Netflix’s most reliable, rewatchable thrillers, aging with the kind of polish most long-running shows never manage.

What Keeps People Coming Back to 'The Lincoln Lawyer'

Manuel Garcia-Rulfo as Mickey Haller in court defending himself in a murder trial in The Lincoln Lawyer

The concept of The Lincoln Lawyer has always been simple and easy to understand. Mickey Haller (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo) is an L.A.-based criminal defense lawyer who operates his practice from the backseat of his Lincoln Navigator while moving through different courthouses, clients, and compromises. Mickey is portrayed by Garcia-Rulfo with enough fatigue to sell the job he does; however, he is also a compelling, intelligent, and very much one bad choice from ruining himself. The series does not glamorize this aspect and lets the consequences stack up slowly, season after season.

What helps is that The Lincoln Lawyer never pretends Mickey is a hero. He’s good at his job, yes, but he’s also deeply flawed, occasionally selfish, and not always right. The series trusts that tension to carry the drama, rather than forcing artificial urgency into every case. Many Netflix series fail because they get bloated. The Lincoln Lawyer avoids that trap by sticking to a structure that works: one major case per season, steady subplots, and an ensemble that actually matters.

By Season 4, the writers finally pull the rug out from under Mickey in a way that feels earned. Framed for murder and unable to post bail, he becomes his own client, forced to build a defense from inside a jail cell—it’s a familiar trope, but the show plays it straight. His firm struggles to stay afloat, his reputation becomes a liability, his daughter absorbs the social blowback, and even the courtroom scenes change, suddenly tilted against a man who’s spent years mastering the optics of control. The key is that the series doesn’t rush through any of it. Episodes still move briskly, but nothing feels crammed in for shock value. The tension comes from procedure, perception, and waiting — which, frankly, is how the legal system actually works.

Manuel Garcia-Rulfo in The Lincoln Lawyer Season 4

Mickey holding up a piece of paper in court in The Lincoln Lawyer.

If The Lincoln Lawyer were just Mickey monologuing his way through court, it wouldn’t last. The supporting cast is what gives the show its texture. Becki Newton’s Lorna remains the muted backbone of the series, keeping the firm upright even when Mickey becomes radioactive; Neve Campbell’s Maggie, when she’s present, brings an emotional complication that doesn’t slide into soap territory; Jazz Raycole and Angus Sampson ground the show with practical problem-solving rather than flashy heroics.

Season 4 also leans into institutional resistance — prosecutors, police, and federal agencies are more interested in protecting themselves than pursuing justice. That friction gives the show a sharper edge without tipping it into cynicism. There’s a reason people keep calling The Lincoln Lawyer a comfort watch, even when the stakes are high: it’s consistent. The rules don’t change midseason, characters remember what happened to them last year, and victories feel provisional, not permanent. That kind of reliability goes a long way in a streaming landscape built on excess.

David E. Kelley’s fingerprints are all over the series, but this is a more restrained version of his usual style. Less grandstanding, fewer speeches, more confidence in letting scenes breathe, and the result is a legal thriller that feels steady. With Season 5 already confirmed and more material to draw from, The Lincoln Lawyer is in a rare position for a Netflix drama: it knows what it is, and it doesn’t need to escalate itself into absurdity to stay relevant.