Brian Woods, Director & Executive Producer of indie True Vision, explains what went into the making of double Grierson Award winning documentary, Bibaa & Nicole: Murder in the Park
For thirty years, True Vision’s guiding principle has been simple: films that make a difference. Bibaa & Nicole: Murder in the Park is exactly that.
I first met Mina, mother of Bibaa and Nicole, through Stacey Dooley. Mina wanted to expose the institutional racism that shaped both the inadequate response to her daughters’ disappearance and the horrific desecration of their bodies by police officers. She needed a filmmaker who would be sensitive but also able to reach a wide audience, and she instinctively trusted Stacey. Together we made Two Daughters, for BBC Religion—a film following Mina through the trials of the killer and the officers who had shared photos of the sisters’ bodies. But that film centred on Mina’s spiritual journey. We summarised the night of the murders in minutes, said very little about the police investigation, and left much unsaid. There was more—much more—that needed telling.
We needed a series, and commissioners who cared about purpose over sensationalism. Luckily, Sky Documentaries’ Poppy Dixon and Hayley Reynolds understood that instantly. They recognised that the most precious thing we required was time—time to earn trust, time to build relationships, time to get this right. They also shared our commitment to ensuring off-screen representation which given the subject matter, this was vital. We hired a team that reflected the communities at the heart of the series with Sian Guerra, who worked on the original film, coming on as series producer, director Alex Thomas and PD Lindsay Konieczny. Incredibly, it turned out that Alex’s choice of DoP for the master interviews, Ian Watts, was a neighbour of Mina’s who she knew from childhood. This team’s creative and editorial vision was crucial for the relationship with Mina, the rest of Bibaa & Nicole’s friends and family, and that ultimately underpinned the success of the series.
Mina always emphasised that she saw “the best and the worst of the Met.” The murder squad were professional, relentless, and acutely aware they might be racing to stop a serial killer. Mina remains close to her Family Liaison Officer, Isla. But those strengths existed alongside 36 hours of police inaction, 23 unanswered calls, and the unbearable reality that Nicole’s boyfriend found the women’s bodies before officers took their disappearance seriously. And then, the unthinkable: two police officers posing with the bodies, sharing the images, mocking the victims. The story demanded space to tackle institutional racism, violence against women, and police reform—while honouring Bibaa and Nicole as the vibrant, brilliant women they were, not reducing them to victims.
However when Alex and the team started to approach friends and family beyond Mina, there was real hesitancy. Netflix had just released Dahmer, and many felt true-crime films glorified killers. Why should ours be any different? Some of Nicole’s friends had also been involved in a separate documentary that was abandoned mid-process, leaving them hurt and wary. So before approaching anyone, we created a detailed duty of care plan, outlining support for contributors whether or not they took part, before and after filming, and through broadcast.
At the same time, Mina approached Sir Mark Rowley, the Met Commissioner. He hadn’t been in the Met when the murders happened, but to his credit, he agreed to allow serving officers involved in the investigation to speak on record and gave us access to crucial evidence, including the emergency calls. Most importantly, he agreed to meet Mina on camera and answer her questions directly.
One of my irritating little mantras is: “Grab them by the heart and their heads will follow.” To do that, viewers needed to know and love Bibaa and Nicole before Adam, Nicole’s boyfriend, makes his devastating discovery. Only then can the audience feel even a flicker of the grief and rage their loved ones carry.
As Monique, their sister, says: “This isn’t like your heart breaking—it just disappears. There was no sound.”
Nicole’s friend Hannah adds: “All the things we did, they should have done. And all the pain we had to go through—that could have been taken away.”Episode 2 begins with the discovery of the bodies and moves into a more traditional police procedural, still rooted in the perspectives of family and friends—especially when the shocking truth of the police selfies emerges. The episode ends with the arrest of Danyal Hussein, a DNA match with a past but unknown to the Met.
Episode 3 follows the attempt to understand who Hussein is and why he killed, leading to revelations about his obsession with satanism and supposed “rituals.” As the trials unfold, we also see Mina changing—moving from the cocoon of grief into becoming a campaigner, willing to confront Sir Mark about racism in the Met while also working with him to tackle it.
The Grierson jury said of the series:
“This deeply respectful and powerful series stands out for its restraint, balance, and emotional impact. With exceptional access and a victim-led approach, it humanises all contributors, capturing the complexity of systemic failure while maintaining a strong emotional core.”
We couldn’t have hoped for a better response. Now the task is to ensure as many people see it as possible. Television can create change—documentaries can shift public consciousness—yet often it is drama that lands the decisive blow. Many strong documentaries covered the Post Office scandal, but it was Mr Bates vs the Post Office that finally broke it open. When you make a film with the intent to provoke change, you’re throwing a pebble into a pond; you can never know who will see it, or how they’ll be moved to act.
I’ve seen this firsthand.
In 1995, The Dying Rooms exposed baby girls being deliberately starved in Chinese state orphanages—a collision of son-preference and the one-child policy. It caused a diplomatic incident and, not long after, the policy began to be relaxed, finally ending in 2015. I like to think the film played a small role.In 1999, Eyes of a Child revealed the realities of child poverty on BBC1. Within days, Tony Blair announced the government’s intention to end child poverty within a generation. I later learned Gordon Brown had policies ready but lacked the political space—until our film forced the issue into the spotlight.
And in 2008, Chosen told the stories of three men abused by teachers at Caldicott. After broadcast, more victims came forward, stalled police investigations reopened, and five teachers were eventually arrested. Some had quietly moved on to abuse children elsewhere. But the greatest outcome was the thousands of survivors who found their voice through the film. At the funeral of contributor Mark Payge, I was deeply moved to hear how proud he was to have spoken out.
A reviewer wrote of Chosen:
”It’s sometimes easy to forget that documentary can often be used as a tool for good: Chosen reaffirms that possibility.”At this year’s Grierson Awards, speaker after speaker reminded us that in an era of fake news, documentaries are essential for holding power to account. And sometimes—just sometimes—they can do more. They can change the world.
If enough people watch Bibaa & Nicole, perhaps this time, too, something will change.
Bibaa & Nicole: Murder in the Park is available to view on Sky and streaming service NOW
Jon Creamer
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