An incredible story of how one mother changed the law
Ten-a-penny true-crime documentaries are worthwhile when they use murder not as a source of ghoulish titillation but as a lifting-off point to explore society and humanity. Catching Britain’s Killers: The Crimes That Changed Us (BBC Two) did just that. What began as a film about a 1989 murder finished as a thoughtful exploration of our justice system and a testament to the power of a mother’s love.
This second episode of an absorbing series told the story of 22-year-old Teeside single mother Julie Hogg, who disappeared without word, leaving her parents and three-year-old son distraught. Four months later, a foul smell led to Julie’s body being found, hidden beneath her bath. Her exboyfriend Billy Dunlop, who had a history of violence and lived two streets away, was arrested and seemed bang to rights.
At the murder trial, however, the defence called the evidence into question – as is their right, of course – and not one but two juries were unable to reach a verdict, so Dunlop walked free. Julie’s mother Ann Ming was devastated, which turned to anger when word reached her that Dunlop was bragging around town about having got away with murder.
The documentary traced the subsequent twists and turns as Ann fearlessly took on the political and legal establishments, knowing that unless the 800-year-old “double jeopardy” law was reformed, Dunlop would never face a retrial – even though he’d since confessed. On a trip to Westminster to meet Jack Straw, Home Secretary at the time, he told her: “It’s a grey area.” “I don’t care what colour it is,” replied the indomitable Ann.
She wrote hundreds of letters, made a powerful speech in the House of Lords and after 17 years of tireless campaigning, finally succeeded in getting justice for her daughter Julie. Dunlop was tried again in 2006 and became the first person to be convicted under the newly reformed law, receiving a life sentence. Ann’s overwhelming reaction was relief. Finally, she said, she could sleep at night.
Lesser documentaries would have ended there. This one didn’t, going on to meet other grieving families who benefited from the law change and reminded us of the convictions that it secured; the killers of Stephen Lawrence were finally sentenced in 2012; the murderer of waiter Surjit Chokkar in 2016, 18 years after the fact. To date, there have been 13 successful retrials since Ann Ming’s campaign. What a woman.
Yet the gut-wrenching last word went to her grandson Kevin, now 32. He admitted having no memories of his mother Julie nor knowing what her voice sounded like. Beneath the legal history, was a human tragedy.
Actor Idris Elba’s semiautobiographical sitcom In the Long Run (Sky One) was back for a second series of nostalgic shenanigans. But warm-hearted though it was, the show sadly felt as dated as its Eighties setting.
As we rejoined the Easmon family on their Hackney housing estate, factory worker Walter (Elba) had been elected union rep and jobs were at risk. Neighbour Bagpipes (Bill Bailey) had problems of his own, including a “broken arse”. Or a bruised coccyx, as he kept correcting everyone.
With its rose-tinted community feel and evocative production design, this good-natured romp begged to be liked yet made that tricky. The script was clumsy, accents were hammy and characterisation lapsed into lazy cliché. The women were invariably the smart ones, their husbands the hapless idiots.
The writers needed to realise that referencing retro foodstuffs – Crispy Pancakes, tinned pineapple, Walnut Whips, Skips – was no substitute for proper jokes. And I hate to be a nerd (I don’t really) but the period soundtrack couldn’t decide whether it was 1981 or 1985.
I also wish someone would have an honest word with Elba about his career choices. Since he shot to fame in The Wire, Luther and Hollywood films, he’s lost the ability to say “no” to offers of work. This is the second lame sitcom he’s attempted, after the execrable Turn Up Charlie. He’s also a DJ, singer, kickboxer, awards host, documentary-maker and fashion model who pops up in endless adverts.
Less is more, Idris. More drama, less comedy, fewer jobs just for the money and you might regain your credibility. In the long run.
Catching Britain’s Killers: The Crimes that Changed Us
In the Long Run