
Making Beyond The Darklands was a challenging process. The subject matter is very sensitive and the main goal was to ensure that the content was treated respectfully and that the series did not revictimise the victimąs and families involved.
A key element of the approach was to go to the families for permission to tell the stories. Some turned us down, meaning that the subjects changed over time, but the first story into production was Paul Bailey.
Nigel and Producer John Bates combined efforts to track down the people to interview for the Paul Bailey story. This initial research and filming set the tone for the rest of the series.
From there a dedicated effort from a small team worked tirelessly to make the series. The arrival of researcher Eugene Carnachan gave us access to some of the toughest stories we covered. Eugene combined with John Bates, managed to find and interview almost 100 people who were willing to talk about their association with each of five other murderers.
Nigel viewed all the material and conducted his own research to make his analysis of the offenders, and after our Story Editor Karen Bates had selected material to be included in the documentary Nigel selected the pieces that he wished to use for his commentary.
While John and Karen wrote the accompanying narration co-Director Rupert McKenzie began work with Director of Photography, Mark Chamberlain on creating visuals to go with the story.
Composer, Tom Ludvigson wrote the music and the elements were all brought together in the edit suite by Rupert McKenzie and Editor Francis Glenday.
The screening of Real Crime: Beyond the Darklands (TV One, 9.30pm Wednesday) couldn't have been more timely for John Key's and Helen Clark's state of the nation speeches focusing on youth crime.
If anyone had doubts about boot camps for bad young buggers or parenting programmes before watching this excellent documentary they would have changed their minds after witnessing the very ghastly childhood and adolescence of murderer William Bell.
Media-friendly forensic psychologist Nigel Latta (Sensing Murder) believed that even without the appalling neglect and abuse dished out to him by his crap parents, Bell would still have killed.
This conclusion was at odds with the message of the documentary which so clearly pointed the blame for Bell's criminality at his rotten upbringing.
Cohorts of Bell's related how Bell's family home was a party house awash with drugs and alcohol where the parents were notorious for attacking each other, even running down the street wielding axes.
To say that Bell dragged himself up was an understatement as social and youth workers related how Bell would casually drop into conversation that he had been regularly sexually abused at a very young age by lovely extended whanau.
When money was short the teenage Bell was quite happy to prostitute himself, and in the words of one social worker, "thought it was choice". He must really be enjoying prison life then.
The testimony of Bell's headmasters painted him as a smiling, cherub-faced, loveable rogue blessed with a magic tongue who could talk his way out of any fix. Many who knew him spoke of his intelligence, even though school was largely attended only when the truant officer escorted him to the door.
By the time he graduated from youth court to adult court his social worker said his file was so thick she couldn't carry it.
Fascinated with the police, Bell was bold enough to go to a dry cleaner's and say he was there to pick up the uniform of a constable. The uniform was used to impersonate officers as he stopped cars and confiscated drugs from the intimidated occupants.
Obviously a frustrated thespian (imagine this character at drama school), Bell ripped off the elderly by impersonating a staff member in two old people's homes.
But what was so blood-curdling was the account of a service station attendant who had been viciously attacked by Bell with a police baton.
One can only imagine this man's shattered nerves and life after not only being beaten by Bell but also – and this is really sick – pursued to the hospital where he was awaiting treatment for a head wound.
A man in a wheelchair wheeled over to him with a cheery "gidday bro" and offered to buy him coffee.
When the unsuspecting service station attendant related details of his attack to the man in the wheelchair and mentioned that he thought he had been attacked with a police baton, but couldn't get his head around an off-duty cop doing the attack, the man – who was actually Bell – assured him that indeed it was a police baton.
Bell was addicted to high risk, violence and brazen acts without thought for consequence. Latta labelled him a psychopath incapable of empathy.
He had beaten his mother, locked girlfriends in closets and at the age of eight had been caught driving a converted car. He had enterprisingly attached wooden blocks to the accelerator and brake pedals so they were in reach.
The recent wave of murders and stabbings suggests that Bell, described in this documentary as a one-man crime wave, is not alone and that there is a tsunami of fearless ferals in the community itching for a fight.
Pity the poor social workers and teachers who have to cope with and be accountable for the lives of miscreants like Bell when the parents party on and don't bat an eyelid when their kids miss school and get into trouble.
They say it takes a village to raise a child but actually the buck stops at the parent. With the village now under attack, perhaps it's time for the scum who breed scum to get kicked out of the village.
OPINION: It's hard to imagine a more useful and engrossing programme than Beyond the Darklands, TV One on Tuesdays.
Not only is it world-class in production terms, with skilful winding-in of docu-drama, but it helps viewers to understand the most bewildering question about some of our most horrific crimes: why? Even with all that has been written and broadcast about Mark Lundy's axe murder of his wife and young daughter, nothing till this week's programme has been able fully to background how this man came to do something so dreadful and then summon the sang froid to live it up afterwards, masquerading as the grieving widower when he remembered.
Obviously, the how and the why are inside the brain of the particular criminal, but it takes some explanation for the lay person, which is where psychologist Nigel Latta is so invaluable. Unlike a lot of professionals, he doesn't hedge his answers about, or trouble with sensitivities toward, the criminal.
He has the self-assertive bluntness to spell out how these individuals come to be so evil. And this programme has developed the pull to get friends and family to talk frankly and in detail about their experiences with the criminal, which makes Latta the envy of journalists.
Using interviews with the Lundys' relatives and circle of friends, alongside Latta's insights, the programme chronicled a long history of narcissism, exhibitionism, inappropriate behaviour, alcohol abuse and grandiosity. Finally, you could understand how his poor wife, Christine, who had struggled to curb his excesses and sometimes thwart them, had to be got rid of, according to the warped moral compass Lundy had developed for himself.
The final straw was her opposition to his totally unrealistic vineyard ambitions. As Latta describes it, her killing was pointedly vicious, with repeated axe blows that obliterated her face. Daughter Amber, a convenience killing, was killed more matter-of-factly with blows to the back of the neck. Christine had become his enemy, Amber a mere encumbrance.
Latta says the seeds of Lundy's evil were probably germinated by his being bullied at school, experiences attested to by an old schoolfriend. Overweight and not schoolyard cool, Lundy was regularly humiliated. One of his seemingly healthy coping mechanisms, taking part in stage productions where his size made him an asset for daggy character roles, may in fact have contributed to his self-seeking behaviour.
His booze-fuelled grandiosity grew steadily over the years but, despite the life and soul act, he was curiously emotionally disconnected, even from his own daughter. Christine's one successful pregnancy was a long time coming, yet she had to scurry around protecting Lundy from the affront of baby Amber's crying and gurgling.
Though he established and ran a business, this too only fed his fantasist tendencies. He fancied himself a budding tycoon, nurturing unrealistic ambitions that rocketed after the murders, when he planned an ostentatious luxury home.
The extent of his self-delusion was underlined by his attempt to establish the apparent theft of Christine's jewellery box as proof of a robbery-murder committed by a stranger. It was a paltry prize for a burglar to resort to double murder over, and no straight-out burglar would mutilate an inconveniently present householder so violently. But in Lundy's mind, no-one could possibly suspect him.
Though there has been much debate about the correctness of the jury decision to convict Lundy, owing to controversy about the timings of events the night of the murder, no- one seeing this programme can be left with much doubt. For the first time, it's possible to imagine the horror, during the six months before his arrest, of Christine's and Amber's friends and relations as they realised the awful likelihood that the ostentatiously grieving Lundy was the killer.
Like the best of real life crime stories, this left the viewer much sadder but much better informed.





















































