The Mail on Sunday

Superbly told tale of a baby, a dingo and a cruel stitch-up

- Deborah Ross

Accused: Trial In The Outback Tues/Wed, Channel 5 ★★★★★

Talent YouTube ★★★★★

Something strange has happened at Channel 5 lately, by which I mean it isn’t as obsessed with, say, endlessly showing ‘the human face’ of bailiffs, and is actually offering some decent shows to watch. I think the opposite of rot set in with Our Yorkshire Farm, and then its production of All Creatures Great And Small, which makes it seem as if the channel is now solely a Yorkshire-based concern, but with Accused: Trial In The Outback, we do at least move to Australia.

I thought I’d give this documentar­y 15 minutes, see how it goes, but stayed for the full three hours across two nights. It was riveting. More riveting, even, than if bailiffs had repossesse­d a Yorkshire farm which, in previous times, Channel 5 would surely have considered the very epitome of fine broadcasti­ng.

We all think we are familiar with the story that begins with a mother screaming ‘A dingo took my baby!’ It led to what is now considered one of the greatest ever miscarriag­es of justice, has been extensivel­y covered, and there was even a film (1988’s A Cry In The Dark, starring Meryl Streep).

So what’s new to say? Lots. Here, there are revealing, in-depth interviews with journalist­s from the time, as well as eyewitness­es, lawyers, judges. Here, we learned that it was not just one of the greatest miscarriag­es of justice, but also one of the greatest, most phenomenal, most misogynist­ic stitch-ups. Plus, there is previously unseen home footage and letters because, front and centre, is Lindy Chamberlai­n, now 72.

She has been through hell. She was wrongly convicted of murdering her nine-week-old daughter, Azaria. She was spat at in the street. She was pregnant when imprisoned and had that baby taken away from her. She was criticised if she didn’t cry (cold, not womanly) and criticised if she did (fake). Lindy talks about that most harrowing of nights and what happened subsequent­ly with emotion, and then with anger, but not with bitterness. ‘You can let your mind be occupied with vengeance or move on,’ she says. Mine would be occupied with vengeance. Just so you know.

To recap: Lindy and Michael Chamberlai­n (who died in 2017) were enjoying a family camping trip at Ayers Rock (now Uluru) in 1980 when Azaria went missing from their tent. Lindy heard Azaria’s cry. She knew what had happened. The previous day a dingo had been prowling around. Azaria’s bloodied romper was found. The local coroner ruled that the Chamberlai­ns were telling the truth and also heavily criticised the police and the Northern Territorie­s government, whose initial investigat­ion had been shoddy.

The police didn’t take that well. Neither did the Northern Territorie­s, who didn’t want it to be a dingo because it would affect tourism. So they endeavoure­d to protect their pride and commercial interests. The evidence against Lindy mounted. She had slit the baby’s throat in the car. There was ‘foetal blood’ under the dashboard. The media played their part and whipped up hysteria. Michael and Lindy were Seventh-day Adventists, which was presented as if they were members of some kind of satanic cult, while Azaria, the newspapers said, meant ‘sacrifice in the wilderness’. (Actually, it means ‘blessed by God’.)

I can’t get bogged down in every detail but can say this was extremely well told, with each aspect building on the last, and with many shocking twists and turns. There were moments that made you gasp, as when it was revealed that the blood supposedly found in the car was not blood but a kind of automobile spray-proofing. Or when a journalist recounts: ‘A police officer came up to me to say he wasn’t happy with the way I was reporting the case… you’re making it sound as if she’s innocent.’ This also featured interviews with the other Chamberlai­n children (Aidan, Reagan and Kahlia) and their letters to mummy in prison, and mummy’s letters to them – so appallingl­y heartbreak­ing – and ultimately built to a profoundly moving story about a family’s love, loss, faith and, finally, redemption. As well as one of the greatest miscarriag­es of justice, and stitch-ups, of all time.

Because I am reading the new biography of Victoria Wood (Let’s Do It, by Jasper Rees) I thought I would look up the first play of hers that was seen on TV, Talent (Granada, 1979). Does it still stand up? Will it now seem horribly dated?

Miraculous­ly, I found it on YouTube, braced myself, and… Still terrific. The script is terrific. The songs are terrific. The chemistry between Wood and Julie Walters, appearing on TV together for the first time, is terrific. Walters plays a young woman who thinks she can escape domestic drudgery by winning the talent contest being held at a local, seedy nightclub, while Woods plays her frumpish friend Maureen. (Mesmerisin­gly, they both look sooooooooo young.)

It is funny – a nun left a nunnery, Maureen recounts at one point, ‘because they were always eating tomato soup and she lost her faith’ – and also unbearably sad. Hopes are hoped and then dashed. I know, a show that’s now 41 years old, but don’t sneer. Instead, consider it my Christmas gift to you. And if you receive a better gift this year, I will be very, very surprised.

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 ??  ?? TRAGEDY: Lindy Chamberlai­n and nine-week-old Azaria on Ayers Rock
TRAGEDY: Lindy Chamberlai­n and nine-week-old Azaria on Ayers Rock

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