The Footage Inside Lucy Letby’s Home That Sparked an Ethical Firestorm

It is rare for a documentary to provoke a moral crisis before a single frame has streamed, but The Investigation of Lucy Letby is no ordinary retrospective. By unlocking confidential police archives to reveal the nurse’s first interrogation and the intimate reality of her arrest, the film moves beyond the courtroom verdict into uncomfortable new territory. As experts increasingly question the safety of her conviction and her parents condemn the production as a lethal invasion of privacy, the release has become a lightning rod for the deep unease still surrounding one of Britain’s darkest criminal cases.

As the United Kingdom—and indeed, the world—prepares to click “play,” the narrative surrounding Lucy Letby is fracturing. Convicted in August 2023 of murdering seven infants and attempting to murder seven others at the Countess of Chester Hospital, Letby is currently serving 15 whole-life orders. For years, she has been a cipher, a spectral figure seen primarily through courtroom sketches and the sterile, pixellated mugshots released by the Cheshire Constabulary. She was the “beige” killer, the nurse who loved salsa dancing and glitter, whose terrifying crimes seemed to defy the psychological profiling of a monster.

Now, Netflix promises to fill in the void of her persona with “unprecedented access”. The documentary offers the public its first glimpse of the “real” Lucy Letby—not the silent defendant in the glass dock, but the woman in the dressing gown, the nurse under interrogation, the daughter instructing her parents to look away as the walls of her life closed in. But even before the first frame has streamed, the production has ignited a firestorm of controversy, centered on the anguish of Susan and John Letby, the killer’s parents, who have condemned the film as a lethal invasion of their privacy.

This report offers an exhaustive, forensic preview of The Investigation of Lucy Letby. We will dissect the production’s visual archive, analyze the deeply fractured public sentiment it enters, explore the directorial vision of Dominic Sivyer, and situate this release within the broader, shifting tectonic plates of the British justice system and the global entertainment industry. As we stand on the precipice of this release, we must ask: Is this a necessary deepening of the public record, or is it, as the Letby family claims, a spectacle that risks turning a tragedy into a “tourist attraction”?

The Archive of the Banality of Evil

The central selling point of The Investigation of Lucy Letby is its promise of the “unseen.” In the economy of true crime, exclusive footage is the currency of credibility, and Netflix has secured a trove of material that transforms the abstract horror of the case into a visceral reality. The documentary creates a visual timeline that runs parallel to the legal one, offering an aesthetic experience of the investigation that the courtroom—with its prohibition on cameras—could never provide.

The Arrest: Anatomy of a Domestic Intrusion

The most discussed, and arguably most distressing, sequence in the documentary captures the moment of Letby’s first arrest in July 2018. The trailer and promotional materials have already teased this footage, which shows police officers entering the semi-detached home in Hereford that Letby shared with her cats, a space that the public knows only through descriptions of its “childlike” decor.

In the footage, Letby is seen being led out of her home in a dressing gown, a stark contrast to the “blue tracksuit” image that has become iconic in the years since her initial detention. The audio captures a moment of piercing intimacy; she is heard telling her parents, “Don’t look, please go in”. This directive, uttered in the chaotic moments of her detention, offers a chilling insight into the psychology of the accused. It is a protective command, an attempt to shield her parents from the shame of the spectacle, yet it also suggests a compartmentalization that prosecutors would later argue allowed her to function as a murderer by night and a dutiful daughter by day.

The visual power of this footage lies in its “banality of evil.” There is no bloody crime scene, no weapon, no smoky interrogation room. There is only a suburban cul-de-sac, a family home, and a young woman in sleepwear being escorted into a police car. It is the collision of the ultimate domestic safety—the childhood home—with the ultimate state sanction—arrest for multiple murders. The documentary relies on this dissonance to unsettling effect. By showing us the interior of the house, the “bedroom,” and the “goodbye to one of her beloved cats,” the film strips away the monster mythology and forces the viewer to confront the terrifying normalcy of the perpetrator.

The Interrogation Tapes: “I Love My Job”

Beyond the arrest, the documentary features never-before-seen footage from the police interviews conducted in the days following her detention. In these tapes, the public will hear Letby’s voice—soft, arguably childlike—answering the detectives’ questions. The excerpts released prior to the premiere include her stating, “I feel like I have only ever done my best for those…” and breaking down as she claims, “I love my job”.

These tapes are critical to the documentary’s narrative arc. They provide the “counter-narrative” to the conviction, not in terms of evidence, but in terms of performance. The viewer is invited to play the role of the jury, scrutinizing her micro-expressions, her tone, and her tears. Does she sound like a calculated killer feigning distress, or does she sound like a bewildered nurse caught in a “spiralling” bureaucratic nightmare? The documentary juxtaposes these emotional denials with the “hard” evidence—the handover sheets, the blood gas records, and the infamous “I killed them on purpose” note—creating a tension that drives the film’s runtime.

The inclusion of the “I killed them on purpose” note, visually overlaid with her mugshot in promotional images, serves as the documentary’s anchor. This note, described by the prosecution as a confession and by the defense as the scrawlings of a woman in mental collapse, is presented as the Rosetta Stone of the case. The film creates a visual dialogue between the handwritten scrawl and the spoken denials of the interrogation tapes, asking the audience to decide which represents the “true” Lucy Letby.

The Voices of the Prosecution

While Letby’s voice provides the emotional center, the narrative scaffolding is constructed by the detectives and experts who built the case against her. For the first time, the documentary features on-camera interviews with the specific Cheshire Constabulary officers who led “Operation Hummingbird”. Their testimony is designed to walk the viewer through the procedural complexity of the investigation—how they moved from a cluster of unexplained deaths to a singular suspect.

These interviews are complemented by the accounts of the hospital consultants who first raised the alarm. Their inclusion is vital for establishing the timeline of suspicion and the institutional resistance they faced. The documentary frames these consultants not just as witnesses, but as whistleblowers who fought a culture of secrecy to expose the truth. By giving face and voice to these medical professionals, the film underscores the “human factor” in the detection of the crimes—the gut feelings and pattern recognition that preceded the statistical analysis.

Perhaps most poignantly, the film includes an anonymized interview with the mother of one of the victims. This inclusion is a necessary ethical counterbalance to the focus on the killer. By centering the grief of the families, the documentary reminds the audience of the visceral reality of the crimes, preventing the narrative from becoming a purely intellectual exercise in legal theory. The mother’s testimony serves as the emotional anchor, grounding the sensationalism of the arrest footage in the irreversible loss that necessitated it.

The Directors’ Vision and the Ethical Gaze

The creative force behind The Investigation of Lucy Letby is Dominic Sivyer, a director with a reputation for handling sensitive, complex, and emotionally charged subjects. Sivyer’s filmography suggests that this project was entrusted to him precisely because of his ability to navigate the grey zones of human morality.

Dominic Sivyer: A Cinema of Empathy and Unease

Sivyer is not a tabloid filmmaker. His previous works, such as Rebel Nun (about Sister Helen Prejean and the death penalty), The Masked Scammer, and his contributions to the BAFTA-winning Grenfell documentary, demonstrate a commitment to nuanced storytelling. Rebel Nun dealt with the complexities of redemption and the justice system, while Grenfell required an immense sensitivity to trauma and institutional failure.

In The Investigation of Lucy Letby, Sivyer applies this “cinema of empathy” to a subject that challenges it fundamentally. How does one direct a film about a convicted baby killer without descending into exploitation? Sivyer has stated that the project was “exceptional and demanding,” marked by “significant creative and ethical responsibility”. His stated aim was to craft a “powerful, emotionally resonant depiction of the events,” suggesting that the film seeks to move beyond a dry recitation of facts to capture the emotional atmosphere of the tragedy.

Sivyer’s style often involves a close, observational camera and a reliance on the subjects telling their own stories. In this documentary, he balances the “insider accounts” of the detectives with the “outsider” perspective of the experts questioning the evidence. This dialectical approach—presenting the prosecution’s certainty alongside the growing doubts—is a hallmark of high-end documentary filmmaking in the 2020s. It refuses to hand the audience a simple conclusion, instead forcing them to sit with the discomfort of conflicting narratives.

ITN Productions and the “Definitive” Account

Produced by ITN Productions for Netflix, the film benefits from the journalistic rigour associated with the ITN brand. This is not a “content mill” production; it is a work of long-form journalism. The involvement of executive producers Ian Rumsey and Caroline Short indicates a high-level strategic focus on delivering a “definitive” account.

ITN’s access to the police files and the unprecedented footage is the result of years of relationship building. This level of access is rare in British criminal cases, where strict contempt of court laws and police protocols usually keep evidentiary footage under lock and key for decades. The release of this material so soon after the trial (and while an inquiry is ongoing) signals a shift in the relationship between the British justice system and the media. It suggests that the authorities see value in the “Netflixification” of the case—perhaps as a way to demonstrate the thoroughness of their investigation in the face of rising criticism.

The Parents’ Anguish and the Privacy Paradox

However, the release of The Investigation of Lucy Letby has not been met with universal acclaim. In a move that has pierced the promotional bubble, Susan and John Letby, the parents of the convicted nurse, have issued a searing condemnation of the documentary. Their intervention has shifted the discourse from the content of the film to the ethics of its existence.

“It Would Likely Kill Us”

In a statement to The Sunday Times and widely reported across the media, the Letbys described the documentary as a “complete invasion of privacy.” Their objection is specific and visceral: they are horrified by the use of footage filmed inside their home during the arrest.

“We had no idea they were using footage in our house. We will not watch it – it would likely kill us if we did,” the couple stated. This hyperbolic yet deeply felt language—”kill us”—underscores the catastrophic impact the criminal proceedings have had on the family unit. The Letbys describe the previous coverage, including Panorama and the nightly news, as “heartbreaking,” but they view the Netflix documentary as being “on another level”.

Their grievance highlights a unique aspect of modern true crime: the collateral damage inflicted on the innocent families of perpetrators. The Letbys lived in that house for 40 years; it is a “small cul-de-sac in a small town where everyone knows everyone”. They fear that the documentary, by broadcasting the interior of their home to a global audience of hundreds of millions, will turn their private sanctuary into a “tourist attraction”.

The Ethics of the “Perp Walk”

The Letbys’ complaint raises profound questions about the “right to privacy” in the digital age. While Lucy Letby is a convicted criminal whose rights are significantly curtailed, her parents are not. The footage of the arrest, while legally obtained and released by the police, captures the parents in their most vulnerable moment—watching their daughter being taken away. The film shows Letby “saying goodbye to one of her beloved cats” and being led out of her bedroom.

To the documentarians, these details are essential for humanizing the narrative and showing the “ordinariness” of the scene. To the parents, it is a violation of the sanctity of the home. The fact that the Letbys only learned of the footage’s inclusion through their daughter’s legal team adds a layer of betrayal to their grief. They argue that this is a “spectacle” rather than journalism.

This controversy places Netflix in a familiar ethical bind. The streaming giant has faced similar backlash from victims’ families in the past (most notably with the Dahmer series), but the criticism from a perpetrator’s family regarding privacy (rather than accuracy) is a distinct variation. It forces the viewer to consider: does the public interest in understanding a mass murderer outweigh the privacy rights of the elderly parents who live in the house where she was arrested?

The Shifting Tides of Public Opinion

The timing of The Investigation of Lucy Letby is critical. Had this documentary been released in late 2023, immediately following the verdict, it would likely have been received as a straightforward chronicle of justice served. However, arriving in February 2026, it enters a significantly different atmosphere. The monolithic certainty of Letby’s guilt has begun to show hairline fractures in the public discourse, and the documentary acknowledges—and arguably capitalizes on—this “growing disquiet”.

The “Miscarriage of Justice” Narrative

Since the trial, a movement of experts, statisticians, and legal commentators has emerged to question the safety of the conviction. This revisionist perspective is not merely an internet conspiracy theory; it is being debated in the pages of the New Yorker, The Guardian, and medical journals. The documentary reflects this shift by featuring “lawyers and medical experts who scrutinise the evidence” and “exclusive testimonials from individuals who claimed that ‘things were not so straightforward'”.

Reviewers have noted that the film provides a “brisk summary of the uncertainties surrounding the case”. These uncertainties include:

• The Lack of Motive: The prosecution never established a definitive reason why a nurse would kill the infants, relying instead on the “trust me, I’m a nurse” psychology and the “I did it on purpose” note.
• The Statistical Anomalies: Experts have questioned the statistical validity of the shift charts that placed Letby at the scene of every collapse, arguing that in a failing unit, such correlations can be coincidental.
• The Medical Evidence: The documentary touches on the “troubling question: if Lucy Letby didn’t kill seven babies, who or what did?”.

By including these voices, the documentary positions itself at the cutting edge of the story. It is not just a retelling of the trial; it is a prelude to the potential appeals and the ongoing historical reassessment. The inclusion of experts like Dr. Shoo Lee (referenced in related reporting as challenging the air embolism evidence) suggests that the film is aware of the scientific battleground that the case has become.

The Thirlwall Inquiry and the CPS Decision

The documentary also arrives in the shadow of the Thirlwall Inquiry, the statutory public inquiry into the events at the Countess of Chester Hospital. The Inquiry’s report, originally expected in early 2026, has been delayed until “after Easter 2026”. This delay has created a vacuum of official information, which the Netflix documentary is now filling.

Furthermore, the recent decision by the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) not to pursue a retrial for the six counts on which the jury could not reach a verdict (and not to charge for other cases) has drawn a line under the criminal proceedings. The police publicly disagreed with this decision, stating they believed the evidence met the charging standard. This bureaucratic friction—between the police who want to charge more and the CPS who are closing the file—adds another layer of tension to the documentary’s release. The film serves as the police’s final word, a public presentation of the evidence that will never be heard in court.

Netflix and the True Crime Industrial Complex

The Investigation of Lucy Letby must also be understood as a product of the Netflix content machine. In 2026, the streamer continues to double down on True Crime as a core pillar of its programming strategy, despite (or perhaps because of) the genre’s saturation.

The 2026 Slate: Thrillers and Reality

The documentary is part of a broader slate of UK crime content scheduled for 2026. Netflix and its competitors (BBC, ITV) are flooding the market with both scripted and unscripted crime narratives. Upcoming titles like The Crow Girl, I Will Find You (a Harlan Coben adaptation), and The Cage suggest that the British public’s appetite for “dark” content remains insatiable.

However, there is a distinction to be made between the “cosy crime” of a Harlan Coben mystery and the stark reality of the Letby case. The Investigation of Lucy Letby sits alongside other “prestige” docs like The Tinder Swindler or American Murder: The Family Next Door. These films share a specific aesthetic: high production values, exclusive access, and a narrative structure that borrows heavily from thriller fiction.

The danger, as critics have pointed out, is that the line between “news” and “entertainment” becomes irrevocably blurred. By releasing this documentary on February 4, 2026—just as the “best new crime thrillers of 2026” lists are being published—Netflix implicitly categorizes the deaths of seven infants alongside the fictional escapades of detectives and spies. This commodification of tragedy is what fuels the Letby parents’ anger and what makes the viewing experience so morally complex.

The “Reviewer” Consensus: Troubling but Essential?

Early critical reaction to the documentary has been mixed, reflecting this ambivalence. The Guardian’s Phil Harrison described it as “troubling,” noting that while it includes unseen footage, it “doesn’t add a great deal to anyone’s understanding of the charges against her”. This suggests that for those who followed the trial closely, the film may feel like a rehash—a “greatest hits” of the prosecution’s case with higher resolution video.

However, for the international audience, or the casual viewer who knows Letby only as a headline, the documentary will be definitive. It will set the narrative in stone. The “brisk summary of the uncertainties” may be enough to plant seeds of doubt, or the emotional power of the arrest footage may cement the conviction in the court of public opinion forever.

The Medical-Legal Labyrinth

To fully appreciate the scope of the documentary, one must understand the specific medical-legal environment it depicts. The Letby case is described by experts in the film as a “once-in-a-generation type case”. This hyperbole is warranted not just by the scale of the alleged crimes, but by the complexity of the evidence.

The “Insulin” and “Air” Evidence

The documentary delves into the technicalities that convicted Letby: the dislodged breathing tubes, the air embolisms, and the insulin poisoning. These are not the weapons of a conventional killer; they are the tools of a neonatal nurse weaponized against her patients. The film attempts to visualize these invisible crimes, using graphics and expert testimony to explain how a spike in insulin or a bubble of air can be a murder weapon.

However, the “growing disquiet” mentioned in the documentary focuses on the interpretation of this data. The independent experts featured in the film (and in the broader media landscape of 2026) argue that the “air embolism” theory is based on outdated science (specifically the 1989 paper by Dr. Shoo Lee, who has since clarified his research was misused). By giving airtime to these counter-arguments, the documentary performs a crucial public service: it highlights the fallibility of expert witnesses in complex medical trials.

The Hospital Failures

A secondary theme of the documentary, and the primary focus of the delayed Thirlwall Inquiry, is the failure of the hospital management. The film features the consultants who “sounded the alarm” but were initially ignored or silenced by executives. This narrative thread transforms the story from a “lone wolf” killer narrative into a systemic failure narrative. It asks: could these babies have been saved if the hospital had prioritized patient safety over reputation?

The inclusion of these whistleblower accounts serves to vindicate the doctors who spent years under the shadow of the events. For them, the documentary is a platform to clear their names and expose the “culture of secrecy” that allowed Letby to operate.

The Cinematic Language of Guilt

Beyond the facts, The Investigation of Lucy Letby employs a specific cinematic language that merits scrutiny. Director Dominic Sivyer and the ITN team have constructed a visual text that operates on multiple levels of meaning, utilizing the semiotics of the home, the police station, and the courtroom to guide the viewer’s emotional response.

The Semiotics of the “Beige” Life

The documentary pays intense attention to the aesthetics of Letby’s life. Throughout the trial, much was made of her “ordinariness”—her love of salsa, her holiday snapshots, her generic text messages. The film visualizes this ordinariness with a keen, almost forensic eye. We see the interiors of her home: the wall art, the soft furnishings, the “beloved cats”. These are the signifiers of a benign, middle-class existence, yet in the context of the documentary, they are rendered sinister.

This technique is a staple of the “unimaginable crime” subgenre. By lingering on the mundane details of Letby’s life, the filmmakers create a sense of cognitive dissonance. How can this space, which looks so much like the viewer’s own, harbor such darkness? This is the “banality of evil” reframed for the Instagram generation. The beige walls and the dressing gown become symbols of a terrifying concealment. The documentary asks us to look closer at the ordinary, suggesting that monsters do not hide in shadows, but in the soft focus of suburbia.

The Audio Landscape: From Whispers to Screams

Sound design plays a crucial role in the documentary’s immersive quality. The audio from the arrest footage—Letby’s voice instructing her parents, “Don’t look, please go in”—is presented without music, allowing the raw, ambient noise of the police raid to dominate. This stark realism contrasts with the polished, scored segments of the interviews.

In the interrogation tapes, the audio quality is deliberately preserved in its raw state. The hum of the recording equipment, the rustle of papers, the pauses in Letby’s speech—all contribute to a sense of authenticity. When she says, “I love my job”, the crack in her voice is emphasized. The filmmakers use these audio cues to humanize the defendant, complicating the “monster” narrative established by the prosecution. Is this the voice of a manipulator, or the voice of a broken woman? The documentary refuses to answer, leaving the auditory evidence to speak for itself.

The Visual Rhetoric of the “Note”

The “I killed them on purpose” note is treated as a visual artifact of immense power. The documentary frequently returns to this image, zooming in on the specific handwriting, the frantic scrawls, the spacing of the words. In promotional materials, this note is often overlaid on Letby’s face, creating a visual fusion of the person and the confession.

This visual rhetoric serves to anchor the prosecution’s case. In a trial that relied heavily on circumstantial evidence and complex medical data, the note provided a moment of clarity—a “smoking gun” that jurors (and now viewers) could understand intuitively. By centering this image, the documentary acknowledges its pivotal role in the conviction. It is the visual equivalent of a scream, cutting through the silence of the “no comment” interviews.

The Industry Context – Why Now?

The release of The Investigation of Lucy Letby in February 2026 is not an accident of scheduling. It arrives at a moment when the UK television industry is heavily invested in the crime genre, and when Netflix is aggressively expanding its slate of “local” content with global appeal.

The “British Crime Wave” of 2026

The year 2026 has been dubbed the year of the “British Crime Wave” by industry analysts. Broadcasters and streamers are competing for the attention of a public fascinated by the dark side of human nature. Shows like The Crow Girl, The Cage, and the latest Harlan Coben adaptation, I Will Find You, are all vying for viewership. These scripted dramas often blur the lines between fact and fiction, drawing inspiration from real-life cases.

In this crowded marketplace, a high-profile documentary about a “celebrity” criminal like Letby is a guaranteed hit. It cuts through the noise of fictional procedurals, offering the “real thing.” Netflix understands that truth is often stranger—and more marketable—than fiction. By positioning The Investigation of Lucy Letby alongside its premium dramas, the platform elevates the documentary to the status of a “must-watch” event.

The Netflix Strategy: Local Stories, Global Reach

This release also exemplifies Netflix’s strategy of investing in “local” stories that have global resonance. The Letby case, while specifically British in its legal and medical details, taps into universal fears about child safety, hospital trust, and the nature of evil. By partnering with ITN Productions, a respected British news organization, Netflix signals its commitment to quality journalism, countering accusations of “trashy” true crime exploitation.

This partnership allows Netflix to bypass the traditional gatekeepers of British media. While the BBC or ITV might be constrained by stricter public service remits or ongoing legal sensitivities, Netflix operates in a different regulatory space. It can take risks, release controversial footage, and challenge the established narrative in ways that terrestrial broadcasters might not. The release of the arrest footage, which the Letby parents found so distressing, is a prime example of this disruptive power.

The Audience as Jury

Ultimately, The Investigation of Lucy Letby casts the viewer in the role of the jury. We are invited to weigh the evidence, scrutinize the behavior of the accused, and reach our own verdict. This participatory element is central to the appeal of modern true crime. We are not just passive consumers; we are active investigators, piecing together the puzzle from the comfort of our living rooms.

The “Armchair Detective” Phenomenon

The documentary caters to the “armchair detective” phenomenon, providing the raw materials—the timelines, the medical data, the interrogation tapes—for viewers to conduct their own analysis. Online forums and social media groups dedicated to the case have already begun dissecting the trailer, analyzing the “micro-expressions” of the detectives and the “inconsistencies” in the timeline.

This democratization of investigation is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it fosters a sense of engagement and public scrutiny. On the other, it can lead to the spread of misinformation and conspiracy theories. The “free Lucy Letby” movement, which argues that she is a scapegoat for hospital failures, will undoubtedly find new fuel in the documentary’s exploration of the “uncertainties” surrounding the case. Conversely, those convinced of her guilt will find validation in the “coldness” of her interrogation demeanor.

The Emotional Toll of Viewing

Watching The Investigation of Lucy Letby is not a passive experience. It is an emotionally demanding one. The subject matter—the murder of infants—is inherently distressing. The documentary does not shy away from this horror, but it also attempts to contain it within a journalistic framework.

For the viewer, the experience is a oscillation between fascination and repulsion. We are drawn in by the mystery, by the desire to understand the “why,” but we are repelled by the reality of the suffering. The inclusion of the victim’s mother serves as a constant reminder of the human cost. Her voice cuts through the legal arguments and the medical jargon, grounding the viewer in the raw pain of loss. This emotional anchor prevents the documentary from becoming a purely intellectual exercise, forcing the audience to confront the moral weight of the tragedy.

The Mirror of the Screen

As The Investigation of Lucy Letby begins streaming, it will undoubtedly become the most talked-about television event of early 2026. It will be dissected on social media, debated in opinion columns, and likely cited in legal classrooms for years to come.

But beyond the “exclusive footage” and the “insider accounts,” the documentary serves as a mirror to the society that consumes it. It reflects our obsession with the “hidden enemy”—the killer nurse, the neighbor with the dark secret. It reflects our reliance on technology—the text messages, the swipe card data, the digital footprint—to reconstruct the past. And, most uncomfortably, it reflects our complicity in the spectacle of justice.

When we watch Lucy Letby in her dressing gown, begging her parents not to look, we are doing exactly what she feared: we are looking. We are the tourists in the cul-de-sac. The documentary invites us inside, promising truth, but delivering a reality that is fractured, contested, and infinitely painful.

Whether the film ultimately reinforces the conviction or accelerates the movement for an appeal remains to be seen. What is certain is that for Susan and John Letby, and for the families of the victims, the release of this film is not entertainment. It is a reopening of the deepest of wounds, broadcast in 4K resolution to a world that cannot look away.

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Key Data Points & Production Details

Feature	Details
Title	The Investigation of Lucy Letby
Release Date	February 4, 2026
Platform	Netflix (Global)
Director	Dominic Sivyer (Rebel Nun, Grenfell)
Production Co	ITN Productions
Key Executives	Ian Rumsey, Caroline Short
Runtime	90 Minutes (approx.)
Key Evidence	Arrest bodycam footage, police interview tapes, “I killed them” note, handover sheets
Interviewees	Cheshire Police detectives (first time), Victim’s mother (anonymized), Hospital Consultants, Defense experts
Controversy	Parents (Susan & John Letby) condemn it as “invasion of privacy”; claim it will “kill us” to watch.

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Timeline of the Letby Case (Context for the Viewer)

Date	Event
June 2015 – June 2016	The period of the alleged crimes (deaths and collapses) at the Countess of Chester Hospital.
July 2018	Lucy Letby is arrested for the first time at her home in Hereford (Footage featured in the documentary).
November 2020	Letby is formally charged with multiple counts of murder and attempted murder.
August 2023	Letby is convicted of 7 murders and 7 attempted murders. Sentenced to 14 whole-life orders.
2024-2025	Failed appeals. Growing media scrutiny regarding the statistical and medical evidence (Dr. Shoo Lee).
January 2026	CPS decides not to pursue further charges on outstanding counts. Police express public disagreement.
February 4, 2026	Netflix releases The Investigation of Lucy Letby.
Post-Easter 2026	Expected publication of the Thirlwall Inquiry report (delayed from early 2026).