The story presented by director Chris Smith is good, tragic, inspiring, and heart-wrenching—all in equal measure. However, it only manages to capture its full impact on a theoretical level.
Thomas Randolph, alias "The Black Widower," was convicted of murdering his wife, Sharon Causse, and the couple's handyman, Michael Miller. But if the case were that simple, Netflix likely wouldn't have greenlit the documentary *The Widower: 'Til Death Do Us Part*. As it turns out, the case is actually far more shocking and complex. Sharon was Thomas's sixth wife; he had six wives in total, and four of them were murdered.
Director: Chris Smith
Stars: Thomas Randolph, Dan Slepian, Dean O'Kelley
Thomas was accused of killing all four following the same pattern: he would seek out targets on dating sites, win them over with his charisma, marry them, ensure they drafted wills leaving their assets to him, and then murder them. After their deaths, he would collect insurance payouts, which he used—among other things—to buy expensive cars. Yet Thomas never took a break; he would set his traps and hunt for his next victim while still married to his current wife. In fact, there were times when he married the next woman immediately after signing divorce papers.
All the women interviewed in the documentary explain that Thomas was witty and fun during the early stages of the relationship. He only revealed his true colors after getting them to sign the necessary documents. Thomas was controlling and manipulative—a narcissist who cared only about himself. The moral of the story: love at first sight is a ridiculous concept. One shouldn't rush into marriage. After all, while the justice system—police, courts, lawyers, and so on—may be the best option we have, it also relies heavily on the keen judgment of a few men of integrity. One of them is Dean O'Kelley, the first detective to suspect that Thomas was lying.
Upon hearing Thomas's statement and analyzing his reconstruction of the events surrounding Sharon's murder, he detected logical inconsistencies and evidence suggesting something serious was afoot. For instance, if Thomas fired the gun in the hallway, why were there no bullets in the walls? Furthermore, there was no blood on the ski mask the killer was apparently wearing during the crime and while Thomas was shooting at him.
However, Dean's own colleagues dismissed his suspicions. Later, when Dean and Dan Slepian—a *Dateline* producer—investigated Thomas's past, they discovered that the man had stood trial in the late 1980s, only to be acquitted by the jury. Here was a man who had faced the death penalty twice and been acquitted both times. The mother of one of the victims expresses her disbelief and warns other parents to protect their daughters, as Thomas will not stop.
*The Widower: 'Til Death Do Us Part* reveals the flaws in the justice system, yet it also reinforces the idea that the system can deliver the right verdict, even if it takes time to get there. For when Thomas returns to court in the 2020s—having previously served prison time—prosecutors face the challenge of proving his guilt in the murder of Sharon Causse without mentioning his earlier crimes. No drumroll is needed; we all know what happened. Yes, they win the case; yes, justice is served. "Long live the courts," the documentary seems to whisper.
The story presented by director Chris Smith is compelling, tragic, inspiring, and heartbreaking—all in equal measure. However, it only manages to capitalize on its strengths on a theoretical level. The documentary itself lacks the emotional impact one would expect from a subject of this nature, owing to a style akin to Wikipedia that prioritizes facts and testimony over the accompanying visuals. This is a recurring issue with Netflix documentaries: they constantly bombard the viewer with information, functioning more like audiobooks meant to be heard rather than seen. Even if you start watching *The Widower* knowing nothing about the story, you won't feel on the edge of your seat or particularly invested in the fate of those involved. Smith fails to inject suspense into the narrative; the film simply moves forward with a mechanical momentum. He might just as well have printed out all the necessary details and handed them to someone to read on camera.
Furthermore, given Netflix’s track record with the true-crime genre—whereby a real-life event is adapted into both a documentary and a fictional feature film—it wouldn't surprise me if a movie about Thomas Randolph were to premiere on the platform in a few weeks, months, or years.
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