A vital new film tells the story of 86 women… | Little White Lies

Women In Film

A vital new film tells the sto­ry of 86 women killed by their male partners

15 Dec 2015

A woman kissing a young girl on a balcony, overlooking a body of water.
A woman kissing a young girl on a balcony, overlooking a body of water.
Love You To Death immers­es the view­er in the pow­er­ful and reveal­ing sto­ries of bereaved fam­i­lies and friends.

We most com­mon­ly expe­ri­ence women mur­dered by their part­ners as ghoul­ish news items – trag­ic faces that link togeth­er to form trag­ic sta­tis­tics. Doc­u­men­tar­i­an Vanes­sa Engle has tak­en it upon her­self to human­ise 86 of these cas­es in an hour-long BBC film, Love You To Death. This is the num­ber of British women who died at the hands of their hus­bands, part­ners or ex-part­ners between 1 Jan­u­ary and 31 Decem­ber 2013.

Engle uncov­ered this fig­ure by start­ing with Karen Ingala Smith’s web­site Count­ing Dead Women’, which reports that 145 UK women were killed through sus­pect­ed male vio­lence in 2013. Engle then con­duct­ed her own research focus­ing on inti­mate part­ner vio­lence per­pe­trat­ed against British women in 2013. She trawled through nation­al and local news­pa­pers until she had a cast-iron number.

Eighty six vic­tims means 86 sur­viv­ing sets of fam­i­lies, friends, sib­lings, neigh­bours, chil­dren and par­ents. Through the words of peo­ple that loved them, we learn what these women meant to the sur­vivors, how these women met the men that killed them and the chill­ing­ly prac­ti­cal details of how the men per­formed their fatal deeds. The most strik­ing moments involve the tes­ti­monies of chil­dren sud­den­ly left semi-orphaned. Chantelle Barns­dale-Quean was stran­gled by a one metre length of chain from B&Q by her hus­band, Stephen, who is now serv­ing life in jail. The pair had two pre-pubes­cent girls, who now live with Chantelle’s parents.

Engle chats with the chil­dren as they lie on the floor of their bed­rooms, dressed in school uni­forms, colour­ing in with their mother’s favourite colour pens, pink and pur­ple. It’s real­ly weird because her younger broth­er is now old­er than her. It’s real­ly real­ly weird.” says the old­er girl in a strange­ly ebul­lient tone. The youngest proud­ly points out her moth­er in a framed pho­to. Chantelle has long blonde hair and an easy, ami­able smile. The tense that the girls use to refer to her changes between past and present. Some­times the ani­ma­tion of their lov­ing ref­er­ences cre­ate the sense that she’s still alive some­where. Their youth­ful spir­it is a marked con­trast to the robot­ic monot­o­nes and haunt­ed stares found else­where. All of the per­son­al tes­ti­monies are incred­i­bly mov­ing. Grief stems from mul­ti­ple sources: an absence, the cause of the absence and the ongo­ing strug­gle to make sense of real horror.

Only sev­en of the 86 fam­i­lies Engle approached appear in the doc­u­men­tary. Those that par­tic­i­pate take it in turns to read the full list of the names of the dead and the details of their deaths. Engle cre­at­ed a mas­sive board par­ti­tioned into 12 sec­tions to cor­re­spond to the 12 months of the year. In each par­ti­tion are pho­tos of smil­ing women sup­ple­ment­ed by news­pa­pers cut­tings and post-it notes pro­vid­ing infor­ma­tion about the cir­cum­stances of their mur­ders. This scene opens the doc­u­men­tary. The weight of so many suf­fer­ing sets a sor­row­ful and bewitch­ing tone that only intensifies.

The goal of Love You To Death is more to pro­vide indi­vid­ual memo­ri­als than to engage in a neat sto­ry arc. There is a seething mass of intrigue in the details that emerge about the men that killed these women. We don’t hear direct­ly from any per­pe­tra­tors but two dif­fer­ent voic­es are heard over the phone. One belonged to Lee Birch who stran­gled his estranged wife, Anne-Marie Birch, in a field in Rams­gate with a dog leash after a long cam­paign of harass­ment. He then returned the dogs she had been walk­ing to their own­ers, used Tesco toi­lets to clean him­self up, went to the pub where CCTV footage shows him drink­ing two and half pints before call­ing the police to turn him­self in.

He says of Anne-Marie’s body, come and get her,” in the pater­nal tone of a man who might be talk­ing about a wife who has had too much to drink. Hav­ing tak­en care of his busi­ness, Lee ini­ti­ates the con­se­quences of his actions. This is not the case across the board. Indeed noth­ing is the case across the board. Themes of domes­tic vio­lence and con­trol­ling behav­iour emerge but there are excep­tions in which men­tal ill­ness or demen­tia or unfath­omable mys­tery pre­cedes the most irre­versible of crimes.

This is not a doc­u­men­tary that pre­scribes activism or answers. It is pre­oc­cu­pied with the step that comes before all of that: recog­ni­tion. Recog­ni­tion of 86 women aged between 17 (Jay­den Parkin­son) and 87 (Bet­ty Gal­lagher) whose bru­tal deaths have trau­ma­tised those left behind. Love You To Death is not an easy watch. But to look away is to ignore clues about dan­ger­ous peo­ple that may one day add up to saved lives. What’s more, to look is to join Engle in a show of bold curios­i­ty and empa­thy for women whose ordi­nary desire for love led to extra­or­di­nary injustice.

Love You To Death will pre­miere on BBC 2 at 9pm on Wednes­day 16 Decem­ber. The film will sub­se­quent­ly be avail­able on iPlay­er for 30 days.

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