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Four years ago, Mina Smallman experienced an unthinkable tragedy when her two grown daughters, Bibaa and Nikki, failed to return home from a summer evening picnic.
This was highly unusual for Bibaa, celebrating her 46th birthday, and 27-year-old Nikki. The police did not immediately initiate a search, prompting friends and family to scour the park. Tragically, it was Nikki’s boyfriend who discovered their bodies, stabbed and concealed in bushes.
Outrage ensued when it was revealed that two Met officers guarding the crime scene had shared photos of the murdered sisters in a WhatsApp group.
The public response to another tragic case the following summer deeply affected Smallman. While she empathized with the grieving parents of Sarah Everard, she couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast in media coverage between Sarah’s disappearance and that of her daughters. Sarah’s case received exhaustive attention, while Bibaa and Nikki’s did not, perhaps due to their being Black and mixed race. This disparity is the core of Smallman’s memoir, which is characterized by love, empathy, and hope rather than anger or bitterness.
Although an investigation by the Independent Office of Police Conduct concluded there was no evidence of racial bias in the initial police response, Smallman remains skeptical. She believes the police made assumptions based on Bibaa’s race and residence. “They didn’t care because they looked at Bibaa’s address and thought they knew who she was. A Black woman who lived on a council estate,” she writes in her book, A Better Tomorrow. In reality, Bibaa was a respected social worker and a mother, but as Smallman poignantly notes, her profession shouldn’t matter; murder is murder and deserves utmost seriousness.
Smallman, a former teacher and Church of England archdeacon, distinguishes between “the good and the bad within the police” in her book. She acknowledges the efforts of some officers who later earned her trust. She also strives to understand the troubled life of the teenager convicted of killing her daughters, who claimed to have sacrificed them in a pact with the devil.
She brings a nuanced perspective to the phenomenon known as Missing White Woman Syndrome, pointing out the media’s tendency to focus on “pretty, white, middle-class” victims.
Related: ‘You have to let the anger go’: Mina Smallman on her daughters’ murder – and the police who shared photos of the bodies
Instead of outright accusations of racism, Smallman softly raises questions about the disparity in media coverage. Why wasn’t the murder of her two daughters considered significant enough to lead news bulletins? Why was there no public vigil for them, as there was for Sarah Everard? Smallman clarifies that she isn’t blaming the Everard family or white people in general. She holds editors accountable for news coverage choices, though she notes the lack of Black reporters covering her daughters’ case.
Smallman’s patience is commendable. Her religious faith has helped her forgive her daughters’ killer. Her own experiences also play a role. Raised by a Nigerian-born father and a Scottish miner’s daughter, Smallman was fostered out as a baby to a loving foster mother. This foster care provided her with an early foundation of a calm, loving home. Smallman credits this upbringing with teaching her to be a good mother to her three daughters, breaking a cycle of dysfunction.
Her belief in the possibility of change and breaking the cycle drives her activism for women’s safety. This belief makes her memoir, unexpectedly, an uplifting read. “Things are going to change. I know it,” she writes with confidence. Let’s hope she’s right.
Source: The Guardian