The TV drama "Pro Bono" wrapped its run with ratings in the low double digits (around 10%).
At the center is a judge who once chased promotion and status, then discovers the pull of public-interest litigation.
The series places a large law firm's pro bono team against the emotional beats of courtroom TV.
The show raises a clear question: what does service to the public really mean, and what does justice look like?
From Judge to Public-Interest Lawyer: One Line He Learned
The essence has changed.
The point is simple.
A character fluent in the language of power learns a different language.
That change drives the show's emotional momentum.
“Even defeat can move the world half a step forward.”
"Pro bono" shortens the Latin phrase pro bono publico (for the public good).
In law it means free legal work for people who cannot afford counsel. Recently, the term has broadened to include professionals in tech, design, medicine, and business donating their skills for public benefit.
The series reconstructs the meaning of public-interest law through the downfall and comeback of Kang Da-wit, a former judge.
What is the problem?
The reality is complicated.
The show exposes the practical limits around a law firm's pro bono unit.
In systems measured by revenue and win rates, public-interest work gets marginalized.
The drama carefully shows strategies and limits: using courts and public opinion as levers.
Meanwhile, the "70 percent win rate" condition becomes both the hero's motivation for a comeback and an ethical test.
The show keeps tension between winning cases and serving justice.
The spine of the plot
The outline is clear.
Kang Da-wit built a career by mastering power during his years on the bench.
But he loses his judgeship after being accused of taking bribes and then joins the pro bono unit at a major firm.
At first he treats vulnerable clients as "small cases."
However, as he works the cases he slowly learns the meaning of public-interest advocacy.
Courtroom scenes sometimes tilt toward melodrama, which serves dramatic catharsis.
The line between reality and fiction
The boundary is blurred.
The show reconstructs real life by exaggerating and compressing events.
In doing so, it reveals both the nobility of public-interest law and its practical constraints.
“A big law firm's pro bono unit is often subject to other logics needed for survival.”
Episodes that dramatize real news—such as an episode inspired by the Itaewon crowd crush (Oct 29, 2022)—draw sympathy but also raise ethical questions about turning tragedies into plot devices.
Meanwhile, courtroom stereotypes (the arrogant judge, the inflexible prosecutor) are repeated for dramatic tension. On the other hand, this repetition risks simplifying professional ethics and institutional complexity.
In favor: the value of highlighting public interest
The argument in favor is straightforward.
The show forces viewers to reconsider the value of public-interest law.
By dramatizing overlooked cases, it draws public attention.
First, supporters say the series elevates the nobility of public-interest work.
A protagonist who starts from self-interest but grows through defending the weakest delivers emotional payoff for audiences.
That transformation reminds viewers that justice requires both institutions and individual responsibility.
Also, the series details life inside a large firm's pro bono unit, making viewers aware of an institutional blind spot.
This awareness can prompt public discussion about contradictions inside the legal system.
When media shine a light on lawyers who represent the vulnerable, there is a chance public support for reform will grow.
For example, when pro bono work succeeds in real life, communities often see positive change.
An unprotected person's rights can be restored through advocacy, and similar issues can become recognized social problems.
In this sense, the show's message connects with broader goals: democratizing legal services and rediscovering ethical professionalism.
Against: stereotypes and exaggeration
The problem is clear.
Exaggerated scenes risk distorting the reality of legal practice.
When drama priorities override accuracy, familiar biases are reproduced.
Those who oppose the show point to several worries.
First, standard portrayals of judges and prosecutors simplify complex ethical obligations.
Second, the genuine complexity of public-interest work can be glamorized or reduced.
Moreover, turning sensitive events into entertainment can exhaust victims and families.
Consuming news as dramatic material risks turning others' suffering into spectacle.
As a result, public debate may focus on emotional release rather than serious institutional fixes.
In real legal practice, pro bono lawyers often struggle under tight resources and procedural limits to produce meaningful outcomes.
When their daily efforts do not lead to televised triumphs, audiences may underestimate the real work of public-interest advocacy.
Consequently, public demand for funding and reform could weaken.
Questions the show leaves behind
Questions matter.
How should ratings and artistry be balanced?
How should commercial media treat public-interest issues?
“When the public good becomes a story, where does its meaning go?”
"Pro Bono" asks these questions directly.
The series asks viewers to reflect on ethics through the hero's change.
However, the story choices the show makes also risk shaping audience understanding in misleading ways.
Institutional implications and public reaction
The debate widens.
There must be a better institutional support system for public-interest law.
We should examine whether law firm incentives and cultures make public service sustainable.
From a policy perspective, support and incentives for public-interest work remain limited.
Lawyers need time and financial help to contribute pro bono work, and there should be standards to value the social worth of those cases.
At the same time, legal education and workplace cultures must stress ethics and institutional responsibility.
Public reaction has been mixed depending on the series' storytelling choices.
Some viewers are moved by the protagonist's arc and grow interested in public-interest work. On the other hand, others criticize the show's exaggerations.
That split reflects the political and cultural context of media consumption.
Conclusion: what remains and what to ask
The takeaway is clear.
"Pro Bono" dramatizes the value of public-interest work while also simplifying reality.
The series brings attention to noble goals, but it also exposes the limits of media-driven narratives.
Public-service work demands more than television emotion.
Ultimately, sustainable change requires both institutional backing and public support.
A 10 percent rating is only one measure of a show's influence.
Now a question for the reader.
How do you weigh the gains and losses when public-interest advocacy becomes television drama?
