By John Serba

Every so often a “hot property” in true crime emerges with a whiff of exploitationism, e.g., Netflix documentary The Murder of Rachel Nickell. It was released on the same day as a fictionalized miniseries, The Witness, also by Netflix, to be followed by The Wimbledon Killer, a two-part doc debuting on Amazon Prime Video later this year. The facts around this disturbing case — the only witness to Nickell’s killing was her two-year-old son — are ripe for sensationalist re-tellings, but director Lucy Bowden’s The Murder of Rachel Nickell sidesteps most of the ickier elements of true crime content by taking a measured approach to a difficult topic.

THE MURDER OF RACHEL NICKELL: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT? 

The Gist: The doc opens with grainy camcorder footage from 1993 of Andre Hanscombe talking to his toddler son Alex. The little boy sits at a table, drawing a picture of his mother, Rachel Nickell, and describing how a man emerged from the woods in London’s Wimbledon Common park and stabbed her over and over again. The murder occurred in broad daylight on July 15, 1992, when Alex was two. She had been stabbed 49 times and sexually assaulted, and when police arrived, Alex was covered with her blood and clinging to her body. Andre describes how he used to call home a couple times daily during breaks at work to check on the girlfriend and son he loved dearly, and how on that day the bottom dropped out of his life when a policeman answered the phone. When he reconvened with little Alex after the incident, Andre says Alex’s eyes were like “a very old person in a very young body.”

From here, we get the testimony of police detectives describing the investigation. Several dozen cops combed the area for witnesses and forensic evidence, coming up nearly empty-handed. DNA tests were inconclusive and eyewitness descriptions of possible suspects were sketchy. That left police and psychologists regularly sitting down with Andre and Alex, essentially asking the child to relive that awful day over and over again for weeks. It didn’t seem to be accomplishing much. After an upsetting visit to the crime scene in the park, and having endured significant media attention, an exhausted and frustrated Andre packed the car with a few belongings and moved himself and Alex to a peaceful spot in the French countryside. They needed solace, sure, but Andre also feared for their safety, considering he and Alex’s photos were all over the news and the criminal was still at large. 

Bowden then introduces the idea of forensic psychology and psychological profiling — a technique in the spotlight at the time thanks to the popularity of films like The Silence of the Lambs. That led police to target Colin Stagg, a man who lived near Wimbledon Commons. Witnesses put him in the park that fateful day and described him as potentially capable of such brutality. A woman who exchanged “lonely hearts” letters with him described the disturbing sexual fantasies he shared, prompting police to engage in their own letter-writing campaign to see if Stagg matched the psychological profile. As Andre recorded the “breakthrough” with Alex that we see in the doc’s opening scenes, police arrested Stagg — cue police interrogation-room footage of him repeatedly saying “no comment” — and charged him with the murder. They’d finally found their man. Except three months later, the mutilated bodies of Samantha Bisset and her four-year-old daughter Jazmine were found in their apartment, mutilated, sexually assaulted, suffocated.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of? Netflix routinely releases documentaries alongside dramatizations of true crime stories – see The Good Nurse/Capturing the Killer Nurse or Rosa Peral’s Tapes/Burning Body, as well as a (somewhat disturbing?) plethora of other serial killer content. 

Performance Worth Watching: Andre is frequently interviewed in closeup, looking directly into the camera, giving emotionally direct testimony – and perhaps being given the respectful media treatment that he likely didn’t get 30 years ago. 

Sex And Skin: None.

Our Take: For the most part, Bowden presents a mostly no-nonsense reiteration of events that renders The Murder of Rachel Nickell as more responsible journalism than reckless sensationalism. The only technique she borrows from the scummy bin of true crime tropes is a pair of “surprise” interviews in the third act that function somewhat as dramatic twists, although you’ll likely see them coming from a mile away. But those manipulations don’t spoil the otherwise respectful approach to some highly sensitive subject matter, and Bowden takes pains to acknowledge gruesome details without overemphasizing or lingering on them. Few modern true crime documentaries are so respectful to their subjects. 

There’s a natural, linear drama in how Bowden assembles the narrative, which plays to audiences who aren’t aware of how this story plays out; the front-to-back facts of the story are widely available and the film doesn’t present much in the way of new content or perspectives. As police reach the point of desperation, we get the nagging sense that repeatedly asking a traumatized toddler and his father to exhume the terrible details of their mother/wife’s murder may not be in their best interest, or particularly fruitful for their investigation .(One psychologist involved shows some regret for putting Andre and Alex through such turmoil.) Same goes for the persecution of Stagg, who sure seems to be the object of unethical entrapment. 

The film quietly becomes a scathing critique of authorities who ultimately were more concerned with getting their guy — guilty or otherwise — in order to save face. We’re left with strong assertions that multiple egregious errors in police judgment could’ve prevented much needless suffering. The doc also quietly trumpets new developments in forensic technology, which played a role in the true, competent closure of the case. Bowden’s also enough of a proponent of hard truths that she leaves open the question of Alex and Andre’s emotional and psychological closure. But The Murder of Rachel Nickell at least implies that the past mistakes of authorities will prevent future suffering. Hopefully.

Our Call: The Murder of Rachel Nickell doesn’t transcend the form of true crime documentaries, but ethically speaking, stands head-and-shoulders above most of them. STREAM IT. 

John Serba is a freelance film critic from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Werner Herzog hugged him once.