We live in a fabled Golden Age of television. They tell us that all the time, with more great shows coming through than ever before, and the armchair critics only too pleased to tell you what you should be watching. The legacy of The Sopranos and The Wire has spilled over into a new generation of people inspired to take TV as a serious medium for artful storytelling. Television has never been so credible, never so filled with talent. There are more great shows to watch than there are hours in the day to watch them. You’ve gotta choose wisely from behind the smokescreens of hype.

One show that has never gotten the credit it deserves is FX’s Justified. Created by Graham Yost, based on a short story by the legendary Elmore Leonard, it is a neo-western disguised as a crime drama, the tale of maverick lawman Raylan Givens trying to clean up the streets and hollers of Harlan County, Kentucky, as the ghosts of the past and the restraints of his state-endowed badge try to drag him down.

Justified ended its six season run this week in gloriously poignant fashion. It didn’t go out in a blaze of glory as some supposed, instead getting the action over with in the first half, leaving room for an extended ride into the sunset. Because this was never a show that needed fiery explosions and shootouts to capture the attention. Sure, it still had plenty of each, but Justified was at its pulsating, devastating best in the quiet moments, just before the bullets started flying. Like all great westerns, the real depth of the scene happens with arms held poised, hands steady over the holster waiting to draw. The actual shots are just the aftermath.

And just like those same great westerns, Justified was, beyond all else, super cool. Cool as the other side of the pillow, ice cold. Nobody embodies that better than Raylan Givens (Timothy Olyphant), the sharp shooting hero, quickest man on the draw in any given scene. He struts around with a confidence worthy of any Clint Eastwood outlaw. He wears a Stetson hat and tailored jeans, talks quietly and assertively, and the women fall at his feet. Raylan is proper badass, driven by the childhood trauma of his criminal father to be everything that man wasn’t, yet haunted by the idea that perhaps all that’s separating him from the men and women he pursues is the badge he carries.

Raylan is contrasted and complimented by his old coal mining partner, high school chum and fellow son of an outlaw, Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins). Initially introduced as a neo-nazi preacher, Boyd wore many masks throughout the six seasons. He was a manipulative yet captivating villain, with a vocabulary bigger than the Mississippi River. Always the smartest man in the room, usually the most articulate too. He and Raylan were on two sides of the same mirror.

It’s no coincidence that the source of this exceptional show, Elmore Leonard, was a master of western and crime fiction. Arguably the greatest American crime writer who ever lived*. Leonard was known for his razor sharp dialogue, colourful characters and driving narrative. He famously had a list of 10 Rules for Writing, which is often cited like scripture:

1. Never open a book with weather.
2. Avoid prologues.
3. Never use a verb other than ''said'' to carry dialogue.
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb ''said''.
5. Keep your exclamation points under control.
6. Never use the words ''suddenly'' or ''all hell broke loose.''
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things.
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

“My most important rule is one that sums up the 10:

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.”

*A touching detail in the finale, as Raylan clears out his desk and leaves behind his tattered copy of George V. Higgins’ ‘The Friends of Eddie Coyle’, a book Leonard called the greatest crime novel ever written. To have him reading ‘Get Shorty’ or ‘Rum Punch’ mighta been a step too far, this was a nice compromise.

Justified stuck to those laws without fail. Like the fictional folks of its TV-ified Harlan County, Justified lived on the edge of the mainstream. It’s a show that never ever compromised. Elmore Leonard was an executive producer from the pilot through to his death at the age of 87 in 2013. Reportedly he ranked it up there as one of his very favourite adaptations of his work. Adaptations that include names such as Tarantino, Eastwood, Newman, Clooney, Hackman, Soderbergh and Rourke. Since his passing, Justified has lived on as a dedicated tribute to Elmore Leonard’s legacy.

And it’s in that spirit that Justified forged one of the richest supporting casts imaginable. Great character actors playing these deep bit-part roles. Stupid criminals and witty punishment thereof is a staple of Leonard’s work and a strength of this show. Rest in peace, Dewey Crowe. We’ll never forget that time you thought your kidneys had been cut out in a blackmail attempt. But this show could be dark too, like any time Raylan ran into his daddy. Not to mention his 28 onscreen kills during the 6 seasons.

Sam Elliott’s portrayal of Kentucky gangster and weed trafficker Avery Markham was the latest in a long line of chilling villains, most chilling of all was Margo Martindale’s Emmy winning stint in season 2 as Mags Bennett, a Harlan native matriarch (though Elliott – sans moustache! – comes close). That second season was the only time the show got any awards recognition, though there’s one last chance yet. That’s okay. First of all, season 2 was a flawless stretch of television. Season 6 has arguably been right up there with it. (It goes 2, 6, 4, 3, 1, 5 in order of quality). Second of all, Justified doesn’t need your shiny awards. It’s too cool for all that.

And of course, there’s the opening theme. The only opening theme in history that nobody has ever skipped over (Looking at you, Game of Thones. Honestly, TWO WHOLE MINUTES!?). No, Justified gets it right. “I’ve seen them long, hard times to coooome…”​

There’s no moral preaching in Justified, nor pandering or watering down. Its heroes are just as flawed as its villains and it’s often hard to tell the difference. It moves rapidly and it doesn’t hang around for boring exposition. There’s no reason why this show wasn’t revered on par with the likes of Mad Men, Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones. It’s every bit as watchable, perhaps its charm was its downfall – that it never took itself too seriously. It’s certainly on par with another modern FX classic, The Americans, and is a clear step above True Detective (a show that overlaps with Justified in several ways). But like Timothy Olyphant’s last starring TV role in Deadwood, Justified is a show that’s destined to gather itself a fine cult following in the years to come. Seriously, what’s cooler than this?

Go and watch Justified. Start from the top, work your way through the first few episodes as it finds its feet and take it all in. You’ll find yourself start to talk like these fascinating characters, you’ll wanna dress like them and walk like them and just plain be them. It’s so goddamn cool, man.

And then go read some Elmore Leonard.