The Push That Changed Everything
Bonnie Carlson never planned to kill anyone.
I've watched a lot of murder mysteries. Usually the killer has a plan, a motive, a secret history of violence. Bonnie has none of that. She's a yoga instructor. She meditates. She believes in energy and healing and the goodness of people.
And she pushed Perry Wright down a flight of stairs to his death.
What makes Big Little Lies so devastating is that Bonnie's violence makes complete sense—but only once we understand her past. The show slowly reveals that Bonnie's serenity is a fortress built to contain childhood trauma. Her mother abused her. She learned early that the world is dangerous, that men can hurt you, that no one will save you.
So when she sees Perry attacking Celeste—really sees it, witnesses domestic violence happening right in front of her—she doesn't freeze. She doesn't call for help. She acts.
One push. One second. One life ended.
And then Bonnie has to live with what she did. The show doesn't let her off easy. She becomes haunted, withdrawn, unable to function. She nearly drowns herself in the ocean. The woman who kills an abuser isn't celebrated—she's destroyed.
That's the truth Big Little Lies tells about violence: even when it's righteous, it leaves marks that never heal.