Patrick Jane is a mess. By the time we hit The Mentalist season three, that suave, vest-wearing exterior isn't just cracked; it's practically shattering. If you watched the first two seasons thinking this was just another "consultant helps cops" procedural, the third year of this show probably knocked the wind out of you. It’s heavy. It’s dark. Honestly, it’s some of the best television produced in the early 2010s because it stopped playing it safe.
The stakes shifted. We weren’t just looking for a killer with a smiley face quirk anymore. We were looking for a leak inside the CBI, a massive conspiracy, and a version of Jane who was finally willing to burn his entire life down to get what he wanted.
The Red John Mole and the Total Collapse of Trust
The big hook of the season was the mole. Remember Todd Johnson? The guy who got set on fire right inside the CBI headquarters? That moment changed everything. It turned the show from a weekly puzzle into a paranoid thriller. Suddenly, Lisbon couldn’t trust her bosses, and Jane didn't even trust the floor he walked on.
The introduction of J.J. LaRoche was a stroke of genius by the writers. Pruitt Taylor Vince played that character with such a weird, unsettling stillness. His "internal affairs" investigation wasn't just a subplot; it was a pressure cooker. He was the only person who could actually match Patrick Jane’s ability to read a room, which made Jane’s life a living hell. You've got this guy with a literal list of suspects—the "LaRoche List"—and for half the season, we're just waiting for the axe to fall on someone we actually like.
It wasn't just about the mystery, though. It was about the psychological toll.
Jane has always been a high-functioning disaster, but in The Mentalist season three, the mask slips constantly. He’s meaner. He’s more manipulative. He uses people like chess pieces more than ever before, especially during the hunt for the person who killed Todd Johnson. It makes you wonder if the "hero" of the show is actually someone you should be rooting for.
👉 See also: New Movies in Theatre: What Most People Get Wrong About This Month's Picks
Why "Strawberries and Cream" Changed Everything
We have to talk about that finale. If you haven’t seen it in a while, go back and watch the two-part episode "Strawberries and Cream." It is a masterclass in tension.
The setup is simple: there is a mole in the CBI. Jane figures it out (it’s Craig O'Laughlin, which, man, poor Van Pelt just can't catch a break with her love life). But the payoff in the shopping mall? That is where the show cemented its legacy. Jane sitting across from a man who claims to be Red John, played by the chillingly calm Timothy Murphy.
The dialogue is perfect. No screaming. No big action movie tropes. Just two men over tea and a hidden gun. When Jane asks him about the smell of his wife and daughter—the "strawberries and cream" scent—and the man answers correctly? That's the moment the air leaves the room.
The Moral Gray Area
When Jane pulls that trigger in the middle of a crowded food court, he isn't a hero. He’s a murderer. The season ends with him calmly sitting back down, finishing his tea, and waiting for the police. It was a massive gamble for a network TV show at the time. Usually, the "good guy" finds a way to win without breaking the law. Not Jane. He broke everything.
What’s fascinating is how the show handles the fallout of the Red John obsession. Throughout the season, we see Jane becoming increasingly isolated. Lisbon tries to pull him back, but he’s already gone. He’s a ghost haunting his own life. The writers did a phenomenal job showing that revenge isn't some noble quest; it’s a slow-motion car crash.
✨ Don't miss: A Simple Favor Blake Lively: Why Emily Nelson Is Still the Ultimate Screen Mystery
Breaking the Procedural Mold
Most shows like this get stale by year three. They fall into a "case of the week" rhythm that feels like homework. The Mentalist season three avoided this by making the cases feel personal. Even the episodes that weren't about Red John felt like they were building Jane's character or testing the loyalty of the team.
- Cho and Rigsby: Their dynamic evolved from just "the muscle" to a genuine brotherhood.
- Lisbon's Leadership: Robin Tunney had to play a woman watching her best friend lose his mind while trying to keep her job. It’s an underrated performance.
- The Humor: Despite the darkness, Jane’s "psychic" tricks remained hilarious. The way he’d just guess someone’s secret to annoy them provided the much-needed levity to keep the show from becoming a total depression-fest.
The beauty of this season is that it rewarded the audience for paying attention. Tiny details from season one and two started to matter. The "Blake Association" hints began to simmer under the surface. It wasn't just random writing; it was a long-game strategy that most procedurals never bother with.
The Misconception About the Identity of Red John
A lot of people look back at the season three finale and feel cheated because, as we later find out, the guy in the mall wasn't the real Red John. People call it a "fake-out."
But honestly? That’s missing the point.
The point wasn't whether Timothy Murphy was the "real" killer. The point was that Patrick Jane believed he was. Jane was willing to kill a human being in cold blood based on his own conviction. That tells us more about Jane than it does about the villain. It proved that Jane’s morality is entirely subjective. If he thinks you're guilty, you're dead. That’s terrifying. It makes him one of the most complex protagonists in TV history.
🔗 Read more: The A Wrinkle in Time Cast: Why This Massive Star Power Didn't Save the Movie
Actionable Takeaways for Superfans and Rewatchers
If you’re planning a rewatch or diving into this season for the first time, keep your eyes peeled for a few things that most people miss on the first pass.
First, watch the background characters in the CBI scenes. The showrunners were very careful about who was visible in the halls when certain leaks happened. It’s almost a game of "Where's Waldo" but with high-stakes treason.
Second, pay attention to Jane’s wardrobe. It sounds silly, but his suits actually get slightly more disheveled as the season progresses. By the time he’s in the mall in the finale, he looks weary. The polish is gone.
Third, look at the recurring theme of "fire." From the burning of Todd Johnson to the metaphorical bridges Jane is burning with the FBI and his own team, fire is everywhere this season. It’s a deliberate nod to the William Blake poem "The Tyger," which is the cornerstone of the whole Red John mythos (Tyger Tyger, burning bright).
How to Experience the Season Again
- Skip the fluff: If you're short on time, focus on the episodes "Red Moon," "The Red Mile," and "Strawberries and Cream (Part 1 and 2)."
- Analyze the "Cold Reading": Use Jane’s techniques in real life (minus the manipulation). Season three features some of the most detailed explanations of how he observes micro-expressions.
- Track the Mole: Try to spot the clues about Craig O'Laughlin before the big reveal. They are there—tiny inconsistencies in his behavior that Jane actually misses because he's too focused on the bigger picture.
The Mentalist season three isn't just a bridge between the start of the show and the end. It is the heart of the series. It’s the moment the show stopped being about a "mentalist" and started being about a man who realized that his genius was also his curse. It’s brilliant, messy, and deeply human.
Go back and watch the mall scene one more time. Notice the way Jane’s hand shakes after he fires the gun. That’s the moment he realizes he can never go back to being the man he was. It’s perfect television.
To get the most out of your next viewing, compare Jane’s behavior in the season three premiere to his actions in the finale. You’ll see a man who starts the season trying to play by the rules and ends it by setting the rulebook on fire. That evolution is exactly why we're still talking about this show years later.