‘Dear Killer Nannies’ Review: A Coming-of-Age Story Inside a Narco Empire

The world of drug trafficking hovers at the edges but gradually seeps into the life of Juan Pablo Escobar, the eldest son of Pablo Escobar and the central figure of this story, which traces his childhood and adolescence—the former during the height of his father’s power and “reign,” the latter during his decline and after his death. The series—featuring a strong Argentine imprint, with Sebastián Ortega as showrunner and veteran filmmaker Pablo Fendrik directing the first two episodes—moves from relatively comic vignettes tied to the situations Juan Pablo experiences with those supposedly tasked with caring for him to darker, more serious territory, as the violent world surrounding his father begins to invade the boy’s more sheltered existence.

Despite a title that suggests something closer to horror, Dear Killer Nannies approaches terror through reality. At its core, it functions as an autobiographical portrait of Juan Pablo, built around his relationship with a group of half a dozen figures his father assigned to protect him. But these “nannies” are, in fact, ruthless hitmen who operate—at least formally—under the command of this young boy, who effectively becomes their boss. In the childhood sequences, Juan Pablo (played by Miguel Tamayo and Miguel Ángel García as a child, and Janer Villareal as a teenager) may not fully grasp the situation, but it’s clear to any viewer that the men and woman watching over him are both brutally violent and meticulously attentive to the “boss’s son,” always eager to fulfill his requests.

These childhood anecdotes are intercut with scenes set in the 1990s, when Juan Pablo is a teenager and the family’s situation has grown increasingly precarious, as his father spirals into the violence that will ultimately lead to his downfall. Here, the boy takes on a more active role in family matters, navigating—alongside his mother and sister—the collapse of a narco empire and the looming possibility of fleeing Colombia amid threats, debts, and constant danger. Betrayal is always just around the corner, as are unexpected enemies. And yet, the series also finds room for humor, for moments of escape, and for adult situations—sex, drugs, violence—that the very young boy is forced to witness without fully understanding.

John Leguizamo plays Pablo Escobar, but the drug lord remains a relatively secondary presence in Dear Killer Nannies. The story largely unfolds on his estate, yet he appears only sporadically, at least within the world inhabited by his children and even his wife. Another external layer comes from the voice-over, performed by the real Juan Pablo Escobar, which contextualizes events and offers his subjective perspective on what unfolds. The writers take a notable risk by constantly weaving between childhood and adolescence, jumping perhaps more often than necessary between the ’80s and the ’90s. While the timeline never becomes outright confusing, it does occasionally sap the narrative of momentum and rhythm.

What Ortega and his team achieve, however, is a sense of freshness and naturalism—a grounded, everyday realism rarely seen in Latin American series about the narco world. There’s something here that echoes Martin Scorsese’s approach to gangster stories, particularly in the attention paid to lower-level dynamics, small details, daily routines, and, above all, the uneasy camaraderie of these unusual “nannies” tasked with protecting the heir to what was once the most powerful drug empire in the world.

Anyone familiar with narco lore knows one of its most brutal traditions: rivals often target the children of drug lords—especially the eldest son—in an attempt to cut off endless cycles of revenge. That cycle is present here as well, intensified by some ill-advised remarks Juan Pablo makes in his teenage years. Breaking that chain becomes a central concern for Escobar’s heirs, and this curious, engaging series manages to tell that story from a rare first-person perspective.

Dear Killer Nannies does include moments closer to a more conventional narco series, as Pablo’s “professional” life inevitably collides with his son’s—whether through chance encounters or direct threats from enemies targeting not just him but his entire family. Yet the perspective never strays from that of the child and the teenager, giving the series a slightly offbeat angle. Amid the betrayals, the violence, and the inevitable deaths, what lingers is a sense of those who survive trying, however imperfectly, to bring an end to that long chain of bloodshed.