Bleak estate

In familiar surroundings, involving people that look like us, there seems to be an awful lot of underbelly in Britain that’s rising to the surface. Either that or the rest of us are sinking to the depths to join them. The BBC’s Criminal Britain season serves to illustrate the thin veneer, or tatty lace curtain if you want a more familiar estate reference, between a criminal society and the other one. Or maybe this is the Big Society everyone has been going on about.

My Murder, telling the true story of the events leading up to the murder of 16-year-old lad Shakilus Townsend, is bleak. It’s a story most in this country became familiar with when it hit the news in 2008, one of a teenage ‘honey trap’ and inner city violence. This is a community of people half child, half adult, with Shaki mad about Batman and starting to look to college and the rest of his life. Seeing the so-called ‘honey’ struggling to walk in high heels, the gang leader insecure (and not in a drug-crazed wannabe Scarface way) about the actions of his girl, and kids hanging out at the fish shop, someone’s flat, on a bus, all contextualised the horrible tale into a world not constructed by the knee-jerk headlines of the Daily Mail. Instead, from the opening landscape shots of the camera the setting is all too familiar. It places this sad story into a world we might live in, walk through on the way to work, see from the bus stop, or maybe just drop into at a party if you’re of an appropriate age.

The interesting thing – and damning aspect – is that no-one is particularly vilified. That’s not to say that the piece blames the victim. Shaki is played as a likeable former rascal who went about his business, liked girls, had dreams and cared about his family. It almost feels Shakespearean in the way the tragedy unfolds in fatalistic slow motion. But it’s not – it has computer games, art classes, and little sisters to put it into the now, which is what feels so bleak when you step back.

“It’s not all bleak, it’s also very human. Like watching that episode of Grange Hill that made you cry”

It’s not all bleak, it’s also very human. Like watching that episode of Grange Hill that made you cry (mine was Zammo and then Danny Kendall), it reminded me of the heightened teenage emotions. That’s not to be dismissive as the passion is incredibly strong, but to respect how powerfully emotive those between-the-ages years can be.

This dramatically acted programme is framed by the real Shakilus Townsend’s mother addressing the camera. Just in case we forget the boy in the story. We know what will happen but that’s not the story of what happened.

Having watched The Wire, various Godfather flicks, Oz and suchlike, I wondered what an American audience would make of this very British semi-gangster culture and whether this just felt more real or more British. It’ll be interesting to see what else comes from this homegrown, much needed slap in the face of Britain. If we are all one society, this is a part of ours, whether we want it or not.
My Murder, BBC3, Monday 26 March