I’ve been anticipating the return of Fox’s “Prison Break,” Rupert Murdoch’s long rendition of “The Shawshank Redemption.”

The show features two brothers — one wrongfully convicted of murder and sentenced to die, the other courageously sending himself to prison to liberate them both.

And the show has everything: love connections, fiery explosions and conspiracy theories of a corporation that is controlling politicians in Washington. (Wait, don’t conspiracy theories have to be false?)

Perhaps its greatest achievement is that, although both brothers successfully escape in the first season, Season 2 of “Prison Break” — or should it now be called “Prison Broke?” — stayed interesting throughout as well.

Season 3 found the brothers incarcerated again, this time in a ruthless Panamanian jail celebrated for its impenetrability. Escape seemed impossible.

But through remarkable ingenuity — and a large dose of television magic — the brothers do the impossible, returning to the United States to enact their vengeance.

Though their escape is inevitable for the continuation of the plot — and thus Murdoch’s paycheck — I found it too convenient and ultimately unsatisfying.

The brothers’ methodology was unbelievably intricate; outside of TV, of course, prison breaks hardly approximate that brilliance.

Last Sunday, eight inmates successfully escaped from the Curry County Jail in New Mexico. One was quickly apprehended and two were caught later, but five fugitives still remain at large, including a convicted murderer.

And their modus operandi? According to the Associated Press, police hypothesize that the inmates “used handmade instruments to cut a hole in the roof,” which they accessed by clambering up shower pipes. Then, they “used an evergreen tree near the building to break their falls.”

Now, there’s a plan that’s genuinely straightforward. Forget memorizing guard’s shift changes or coordinating getaway vehicles. Just saw your way to the roof — preferably with a serrated toothbrush — and jump. If only the brothers had thought of that.

This embellished prison escape is merely symptomatic of TV’s larger obsession with embellishing criminals in general. And, without question, those criminals most embellished on TV are murderers.

According to the Journal of Broadcasting and Electronic Media, based on all broadcasted criminal offenses, murders occur 195 times more often on TV than in reality.

Currently, we are being inundated with shows whose plots consist of detectives with troubled pasts solving murder cases: “Saving Grace,” “The Closer” — basically the entire TNT primetime line-up.

But television murders aren’t merely acts of passion or vengeance, as in reality. They are complex, often involving confusing subplots and unique domestic situations.

A cheating wife murdered by her husband? Realistic.

A cheating wife murdered by a husband who has been secretly cheating with her lover? Quality programming.

But we aren’t necessarily bad people for succumbing to this glamorous perspective of our most disturbing qualities.

Murder, especially devious murder, makes for wonderful television. The influx of predictable murder-detective shows demonstrates this fact.

And nobody, especially not me, would enjoy watching “Prison Break” if the brothers simply sprinted out an open door when no one was looking.

However, I do enjoy elements of believability in my TV shows. So instead of having television better reflect actual criminals, maybe we should have actual criminals better reflect television.

People should only contemplate murder if explaining their lives requires one hour of commercialized TV; detectives should adopt bad, unassuming habits that damage them personally but not professionally; and convicts should only attempt escape if they are geniuses with tremendous patience, careful planning, and overwhelming luck.

David contemplated murder but then realized explaining his life doesn’t take long enough. Help him fill that hour at david.k.edwards.1@asu.edu