Interview with Mary-Jane Mitchell (nee Robinson)

Can you briefly summarise your time at the Institute of Criminology?

My year at Cambridge, and specifically at the Institute of Criminology, was transformative. Academically, it was mind-expanding—deeply rigorous and intellectually fulfilling. But on a personal level, it was truly life changing.

I can say with absolute certainty that I would not be where I am today, doing what I do, if I hadn’t spent that year at Cambridge. It shaped me in ways I’m still grateful for, and I feel incredibly privileged to have had that experience.

What convinced you to study Criminology?

I've been fortunate to have had some truly influential teachers in my life who set me on the path to criminology. Two in particular: the first was my secondary school sociology teacher Mr. Ilan Phillips. He was passionate, relentless even, about shaking us out of our cosy, entitled North London existence; he wanted to challenge us to wake up and see the world beyond our own.

He showed us documentaries and movies, that exposed us to real life injustice - stories that were nuanced, complex, and deeply unsettling. And as an impressionable 14-year-old, I was totally captivated. His fervent teaching combined with those powerful films had a profound effect on me. From that moment on, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a documentary film maker. I wanted to tell stories about criminal justice, and I wanted to do it in America because the stakes are so much higher.

After my A levels, I went to the London School of Economics, where I completed my undergraduate degree. It was there that I had the privilege of studying sociology with Professor Paul Rock. Under his guidance, I really discovered my passion for criminology, immersing myself in every course at LSE that explored criminological themes.

Professor Rock had spent a lot of time as a visiting professor in the US, so he really understood the nuances and shortcomings of American criminal justice. For me he was a kindred spirit.

When I studied criminology in the 1990s, it wasn't mainstream, like it is today. It hadn't been popularised by CSI-style television shows, there was no streaming, no podcasts, no Internet. We didn't even have e-mail. At that time, criminology was niche. It was a specialized academic field, focused on understanding crime and the causes of crime. As a budding filmmaker fascinated by the intersection of criminality and basically everything, I just wanted to dive in. And it did not disappoint—studying at the institute was a truly fantastic experience.

Why did you decide to come to Cambridge?

Professor Rock urged me to pursue a master's in criminology, and he encouraged me to apply to the institute at Cambridge. He said it was the best place to study criminology in the United Kingdom. That was all I needed to know.

But I also already loved Cambridge. I spent time there as a child. It was familiar to me. It was close enough to London that I didn't feel as if I was moving to the ends of the earth. I was enamoured by the campus, the traditions, and the opportunities that could come from a Cambridge degree.

I was fortunate to be accepted into the Institute of Criminology and Trinity Hall. It was a fantastic experience. I loved every minute. I just threw myself into all of it.

I'd say that my only regret is that it wasn't longer. I've made wonderful friends. Many of the students I was at Trinity Hall with had come from overseas, and it was the beginning of my journey beyond England. It led me to New York. In fact, one of my American friends who I met at Trinity Hall introduced me to my now husband. We’ve been married for almost 20 years, and have two great kids. So, being at Cambridge literally changed my life.

Can you briefly describe your thesis?

I wrote my thesis on what was then the little-know, poorly understood, and barely studied crime of stalking. I believe it was titled ‘Stalking: An Overview’, it examined and compared the US legal framework towards combating stalking with the UK’s ad-hoc protections for stalking victims.

Today, stalking by a former partner is widely understood to be one of the strongest indicators of risk of violence or even homicide. But in 1997, it wasn't even categorised as a crime in the UK. California had introduced the first stalking law in the United States in 1990, and the legal implications of that law were just beginning to be tested in the US courts when I wrote my thesis.

When I conducted my research there were no published studies on stalking in the UK. Even the term itself was new- the behaviour was commonly minimized and considered to be a low-risk form of harassment.

The only real references to the behaviour that I could find were in cheap airport paperbacks that I had to get someone in America to track down and send to me at Cambridge - as this was before you could buy everything on Amazon.

In 1997 Stalking was largely associated with celebrities – a case of acute fandom, and there was little understanding of the very real danger that ordinary people faced, particularly women and particularly those that are stalked by former partners.

I still remember that my thesis supervisor remarked that my choice of topic was very ‘commercial’, which I don't think he meant as a compliment. But for me it was incredibly affirming, because it confirmed that I was developing a sense of what makes a compelling story. And that was what I wanted to hear as I wanted to use this criminological knowledge that I was amassing and pivot from academia into filmmaking.

Years later, the work I’d done on my thesis helped me directly when I was being stalked. I knew what the risks were, I knew what my legal protections were, and I was able to get help. So, I am personally very glad that I spent the time working on this thesis.

What have you gone onto since graduating?

I graduated in 1997.At the time, I was the only person I knew coming out of the Institute who was attempting to break into the film industry using their criminology degree.

I didn't come from a media family. I had no connections in that world. But I chased down every lead, and I reached out to friends of friends of friends. And I eventually managed to get an interview at the BBC and then a first job, as a researcher on a BBC series ‘Rough Justice’.

I absolutely would not have gotten that job without my Cambridge criminology degree. ‘Rough Justice’ exclusively investigated miscarriage of justice cases. It worked to overturn cases by having them sent back to the High Court. It was the early days of DNA, so we couldn’t use DNA evidence for exonerations. The cases that we were working on were overturned because of gum shoe detective work.

We were able to prove serious police misconduct, lying, fabricating evidence, witness tampering, withholding of evidence. And it was the most incredible learning experience. There I was, applying my academic knowledge in the real world. I learned how to talk to barristers, police officers, incarcerated people, witnesses, and victims. This gave me some important soft skills: how to talk to people, how to put them at ease, how to earn their trust. Then I learned how to interrogate legal documents, police reports, witness statements, court transcripts to spot inconsistencies and biases, and in some places, corruption.

It was an analogue time. There was no Internet. We knocked on doors, we made phone calls, we did stakeouts. We used hidden cameras and recording equipment. It was very exciting, and it was for the greater good.

I left the BBC in 2000 to build my freelance career. I became known as a producer with a speciality in crime, which was very rare then. I moved to New York in 2003, and I've been here ever since. I moved because I really wanted to make documentaries that were for theatrical release, films that were longer than the fixed one-hour time window that existed on UK channels at that time. And I've been lucky to have done that, and to make films during the golden age of documentary film production. I've worked with some amazing directors and on some incredible projects since I have been in America.

I've watched documentaries become mainstream and widely appreciated. But I've also watched as crime documentaries have morphed from thoughtful criminal justice programmes, into ‘true crime’. I think true crime shows prioritise entertainment over substance, and they turn trauma into spectacle. They’re consumed like fast food - titillating, addictive, but ultimately empty.

Because of these concerns I've begun expanding beyond documentaries and now work as a researcher and expert on scripted and dramatic film and television, helping to bring realism to fictionalised events.

Last year I worked on a movie with director Paul Greengrass who places an extraordinarily high value on research and authenticity. Working on this movie reminded me why I fell in love with storytelling. Being able to connect with an audience through film is such a gift and to be a part of that process, utilizing my skills for deep investigative research, that I first learned at the institute, is fantastic. I’m excited to continue bringing depth, nuance, and authenticity to every project I take on.

Can you give some examples of how you have used learning from the course in your career?

I've been able to apply lots of what I learned at the institute in my career. For example, Professor Alison Liebling was conducting research when I was a student at Cambridge and invited some of us to take part in field work. The task of the research was to go and interview juvenile offenders behind bars who were engaged in a military-style boot camp.

The programme was being studied to see if it had an impact on recidivism, by in effect ‘scaring them straight’. But the experience of doing that research was so formative for me, because it was the first time I'd ever stepped into any kind of detention facility. And it prepared me in ways I didn't fully understand at the time. Practically, it taught me how to navigate these environments, the protocols and unspoken rules of being in a prison.

But emotionally, it really forced me to confront what it means to sit down with people whose lives are defined by confinement. It gave me empathy and confidence that I would carry throughout my career, walking into jails and prisons, speaking with incarcerated individuals, correction officers, wardens. I've always been grateful that I had that opportunity first within the safety of the academic space. And I really hope it's something the Institute still does, because I think criminology shouldn't just exist in books and lecture halls. It needs to be experienced in the real world, because that's where these issues truly unfold.

Finally, as a filmmaker I'm often walking into a room cold, and I have one chance to make a good impression. I think my criminology background has given me credibility and set me apart from others. I think law enforcement and attorneys often feel as if I'm speaking their language, and crime victims and perpetrators sense that my interest goes beyond the headlines and that I'm truly invested in their whole story.

This course gave me so much more than I realised at the time, but as I've been reflecting on my time at Cambridge in preparation for this interview, I can really see all the connections between what I do now and what I learned then.

What was the most important thing criminology taught you?

Criminology taught me the value of in-depth research and the importance of accuracy and preparation for producing good work. I think that would be the iron triangle of fast, cheap, or good.

Conducting criminology research, designing methodologies, doing field work, analysing findings, writing up results, it shares lots of similarities with the process of researching, writing, filming and editing a film. It's not such a giant leap, and those tools that I learned while I was at the institute have been incredibly helpful in my work.

But I think probably the most valuable thing I learned was to think expansively, to not be binary and blinkered, to identify multiple intersecting factors that shape a person's life and the multiple factors that influence the outcome of that life.

There's always more to the story. We just need to look deeper. We need to be curious, and we need to lead with compassion.

March 2025