You’ve probably seen the lists. The "top ten movies that will destroy your soul" or "documentaries that changed the legal system." Usually, those titles are clickbait. They're exaggerations designed to get you to sit through ninety minutes of mediocre true crime. But Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father is different. It’s a jagged, screaming piece of filmmaking that honestly shouldn't exist in a just world.
If you haven't seen it, you might think it’s just another cold case story. It isn’t.
Kurt Kuenne, a filmmaker and the lifelong best friend of Dr. Andrew Bagby, didn't set out to make a cinematic masterpiece for Netflix or HBO. He grabbed a camera because his friend was murdered and he wanted Andrew’s unborn son to know who his father was. That’s it. That was the whole goal. It was a home movie intended for an audience of one. But then the story kept happening. The cameras kept rolling as a tragedy morphed into a systemic failure so egregious it forced a change in federal law.
The Man Behind the Camera
Andrew Bagby was the kind of guy everyone loved. That sounds like a cliché, but in the case of Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father, Kuenne actually proves it. He travels across the globe, interviewing dozens of people who all say the same thing: Andrew was the glue. He was funny, he was a dedicated doctor, and he was a loyal friend.
Then he met Shirley Turner.
Most people who watch the film for the first time find the pacing frantic. Kuenne edits with a desperate, kinetic energy. Photos flash by. Voices overlap. It feels like someone trying to tell you a story while they're hyperventilating. It’s effective because that’s exactly what was happening. Andrew was found dead in a parking lot in Pennsylvania in 2001. He had been shot five times. The prime suspect was Turner, a woman he had recently broken up with.
She fled to Newfoundland, Canada, before she could be arrested.
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Shortly after arriving in Canada, Turner announced she was pregnant with Andrew’s child. This changed everything. Kuenne realized that while Andrew was gone, a piece of him was still coming. He decided to collect stories from everyone who knew Andrew so that the baby, a boy named Zachary, would know his dad wasn't just a headline.
A Failure of Two Justice Systems
The middle of the film is a frustrating, agonizing look at international extradition law. David and Kathleen Bagby, Andrew’s parents, moved their entire lives to Canada to be near their grandson. They had to sit across the table from the woman they believed murdered their son just to have a chance to hold Zachary.
It’s gut-wrenching.
You see the Bagbys aging in real-time. They are the heroes of this story, displaying a level of restraint that feels superhuman. While the American authorities were screaming for Turner’s extradition, a Canadian judge released her on bail. The reasoning? The judge didn't believe she was a "danger to the public," despite being a primary suspect in a cold-blooded homicide.
This is where Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father stops being a tribute and starts being a document of a disaster. Kuenne captures the mundane moments of Zachary’s infancy—his first steps, his toothless smiles—intercut with the looming threat of Turner. It feels like watching a car crash in slow motion where you’re screaming at the screen for someone to do something. Nobody did.
The Twist Nobody Saw Coming
If you are reading this and haven't seen the film, you might want to stop. But if you're here for the "why it matters" part, we have to talk about the ending.
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In 2003, while still out on bail, Shirley Turner took Zachary and jumped into the Atlantic Ocean. They both died.
The documentary shifts gears instantly. The title "Dear Zachary" becomes a memorial rather than a message. The film we are watching is no longer a gift for a child; it’s a scream into the void. It’s incredibly rare to see a filmmaker lose their subject mid-process, and the raw, unedited rage that Kuenne pours into the final act of the film is unlike anything else in cinema.
It wasn't just a private tragedy. It was a public scandal. The "Turner Report," an investigation into the handling of the case, found that Zachary’s death was entirely preventable. Social services had failed. The legal system had failed.
Why We Still Talk About It in 2026
You might wonder why a documentary from 2008 still resonates so deeply. Honestly, it’s because it actually changed things.
Following the release of the film and a massive campaign by David Bagby, the Canadian Parliament passed Bill C-464. It’s also known as "Zachary’s Bill." This law changed the Criminal Code to allow courts to refuse bail to people accused of serious crimes if it’s necessary to protect their children. It’s a legacy that came at a horrific price, but it’s a legacy nonetheless.
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There’s also the human element. We live in an era of "polished" true crime. We have high-budget recreations and moody drone shots. Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father has none of that. It’s gritty. The audio is sometimes peaking. The transitions are jarring. It feels human because it was made by a human who was grieving.
The Ethics of the Watch
There is a constant debate about whether this film is "trauma porn." Is it ethical to watch something so devastating?
Some critics argue that the way Kuenne reveals the final tragedy is manipulative. He leads you to believe Zachary is still alive for much of the runtime, even though the events had already happened by the time the film was finished. But Kuenne defends this choice. He wanted the audience to fall in love with Zachary the way he did. He wanted you to feel the weight of the loss, not just read it as a statistic.
When you watch it, you aren't just a passive observer. You become a witness.
The Bagbys themselves have been incredibly vocal about the film’s importance. For them, it wasn't about entertainment. It was about making sure the world knew that Andrew and Zachary existed. It was about making sure no other grandparents had to go through what they did.
Actionable Takeaways for the Viewer
If you’re going to watch Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father, or if you’ve just finished it, don’t just sit in the sadness. There are things to learn from this story.
- Understand Victim Advocacy: The Bagbys turned their grief into a political movement. If you're interested in how laws are actually made, look into the history of Bill C-464. It’s a masterclass in grassroots activism.
- Support Mental Health and Domestic Violence Awareness: The case of Shirley Turner is a complex study in personality disorders and the red flags of obsessive behavior. Recognizing these signs early can save lives.
- Document Your People: One of the most beautiful parts of the film is the sheer amount of home movie footage Kuenne had of Andrew. We often forget to record the mundane moments. Record your friends. Save the voicemails.
- Read "Dance with the Devil": David Bagby wrote a book about his experience. It’s even more raw than the film. It provides a deeper look into the legal hurdles they faced in Canada and the sheer exhaustion of their fight for justice.
Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father is a hard watch. It’s probably a "watch once and never again" kind of movie. But it’s also a testament to the power of friendship and the endurance of parents who refuse to let their children be forgotten. It reminds us that the legal system is made of people, and sometimes, those people make catastrophic mistakes.
The best way to honor the memory of Andrew and Zachary isn't just to cry over their story, but to realize that advocacy and love can eventually, painfully, move mountains. If you're planning to stream it, grab some tissues. You'll need them. More importantly, call your parents or your best friend afterward. That’s what Kurt Kuenne would want you to do.