TL;DR: Dexter kills Leon Prater, mourns Angel, bonds with Harrison, and sails off into a future full of serial killers yet to be caught. It’s messy, emotional, and surprisingly good — a true resurrection worth watching.

I didn’t think I’d be sitting here in 2025 talking about Dexter Morgan again. After the botched finale of Dexter proper and the brief, conflicted grace note of Dexter: New Blood, I assumed Showtime (now Paramount+) had finally let this franchise stay buried in its own plastic wrap. But television is necromancy, and the suits have a Ouija board. And so we got Dexter: Resurrection, a title that was laughably on the nose until the show actually… pulled it off. Against all odds, the series resurrected not only Dexter himself but also my faith that this character could still matter.

And then came the finale, “And Justice for All…,” which didn’t just tie off Season 1’s arc but managed to make me feel something for a character I thought was emotionally cauterized years ago. Watching Dexter process grief — real grief, not just performance — over Angel Batista’s death was more jarring than any plastic-sheet tableau. For the first time in a long time, the Dark Passenger wasn’t just a metaphorical parasite or a whispering ghost; it was a weight Dexter had to negotiate in a world where he actually cared about the people around him.

That’s what made this finale both maddening and thrilling: it was classic Dexter and yet not classic at all.

A Vault, A Ghost, and the Wrong Passenger

Let’s start where the episode starts: Dexter trapped in Leon Prater’s vault, mourning Angel while the spectral peanut gallery returns. Except this time it’s not Harry guiding him with that tired moral compass; it’s Brian, the brother who always embodied the seductive rot of Dexter’s darker instincts. Having Brian back as a hallucination was a deliciously nasty choice, because it forced Dexter to face the fact that, yes, murder still thrills him, but loss has finally caught up too.

The moment Dexter placed a blanket over Batista’s body and whispered a goodbye wasn’t subtle, but subtlety isn’t what Resurrection is doing. It was blunt, raw, almost cheesy—and it worked. Because seeing Dexter genuinely shattered reminded me how rare it is for this show to slow down and let him be vulnerable without irony.

And then, of course, comes the most Dexter thing possible: trying to crack a code lock by guessing at the case number of the killer’s parents’ murder. A guy can’t just break out of a vault; he has to solve a crossword puzzle of trauma first.

Father and Son, Finally in Sync

The heart of the episode — and really, the heart of Resurrection as a whole — is the fragile, fumbling relationship between Dexter and Harrison. Their phone calls, their near-misses, their awkward I-love-you-but-I’ll-never-say-it exchanges: all of it built toward that moment when Harrison finally opens the vault and the two embrace.

It could have been schmaltzy. Instead, Michael C. Hall sells it with a manic, desperate hug that felt less like a reunion and more like a man clinging to the last tether of his humanity. And Jack Alcott, who’s quietly been the MVP of this revival, nails Harrison’s blend of teen defiance and reluctant loyalty.

The syringe reveal later — that the “protection” Dexter slipped Harrison was actually a knockout dose for Prater — is classic Dexter misdirection. It’s also a passing of the code, in a way. Harrison isn’t a killer (yet), but he knows how to help his dad survive in a world where the stakes are always life-or-death.

Leon Prater: The Villain Dexter Needed

Look, Peter Dinklage had no right to be this good in a show like this. Leon Prater could’ve been cartoonish: a smug billionaire serial killer running a murder club in Manhattan. But Dinklage plays him with this terrifying poise, like Hannibal Lecter at a TED Talk. He’s the perfect foil because he isn’t just Dexter without a code — he’s Dexter with resources, charisma, and no desire to hide.

The finale finally strips him of that veneer. Watching him strapped to Dexter’s table, blubbering and begging, was cathartic because it inverted the power dynamic. For once, the monster was scared of the monster.

But the real gut punch wasn’t the kill — it was Dexter’s refusal to keep a trophy. No blood slide, no ritual, no need to immortalize Prater in his collection. That rejection felt like the truest execution Dexter’s ever carried out. He wasn’t killing for compulsion; he was killing for clarity.

A Gala, A Ghosted Cop, and a Boat Ride

Meanwhile, the police gala subplot gave us the most Dexter finale imagery possible: tuxedoed guests stumbling into a gore museum, realizing their esteemed host was carving people up in his spare time. It was melodramatic, almost gothic, and exactly the right level of theatrical excess.

The reveal of Don Framt as the real New York Ripper was almost an afterthought — a breadcrumb for Season 2 — but it underscores how much broader the canvas has become. This isn’t just Dexter vs. One Big Bad anymore. It’s Dexter vs. a rogues’ gallery, a serial killer multiverse waiting in Prater’s files.

And then, of course, the boat. You can’t end a season of Dexter without a boat. Watching him dump Prater’s body into the water while reflecting on the need for connection was such a neat little callback to the show’s DNA, but twisted. Because this Dexter isn’t running from people anymore; he’s clinging to them.

Resurrection, Redemption, or Just Repetition?

Here’s where I land: Dexter: Resurrection isn’t flawless. The finale sometimes tips into melodrama, Charley’s subplot with her mom was rushed, and the Ripper tease felt like homework for Season 2 rather than payoff for this one. But for the first time in over a decade, I care about where Dexter goes next.

The show has managed to do something rare: honor the pulpy procedural thriller bones of early Dexter while evolving the character in a way that feels earned. He’s not just a killer with a code anymore; he’s a father, a mourner, and — dare I say it — a person trying to belong.

Final Verdict

Dexter: Resurrection’s finale doesn’t just resurrect a franchise; it resuscitates a character I’d written off years ago. By leaning into grief, fatherhood, and the messy cost of connection, the show finally makes Dexter Morgan feel human again. Yes, it stumbles with some melodramatic plotting, but at its core, this was the closest the franchise has come to justice since its earliest seasons.