She's Dead,' We Mouthed. ‘she's... Dead

Reporting the death of Diana, 20 years ago, belongs to another age – one of faxes, francs and analogue phones. That night, amid conflicting accounts, the BBC’s John Curran had to think fast.

- John Curran

BBC Radio 5 Live’s Up All Night programme spotted it first, shortly before midnight, London time: a single AFP news wire, saying there had been a car crash in central Paris, involving Diana and Dodi Fayed.

For all the tragedy, it was a huge ‘breaker’ – a major unscheduled news event that sends a surge of adrenalin and fear through newsrooms.

Twenty years ago, on 31st August 1997, I was in one of those newsrooms. I was a BBC overnight home duty editor, working in Broadcasting House, just north of London’s Oxford Circus.

I had come from ITN, which had a more ruthless approach to stories than the BBC. So, when Diana’s Mercedes, driven by Henri Paul, crashed, I feared the BBC’s aversion to ‘punter value’ stories – as we sharp-elbowed oiks from commercial television labelled them.

As more details came in, it was clear we needed a major presence in Paris. In August, the French capital empties and the BBC bureau was no exception. Andy Bell, the world news duty editor, was at full stretch, dealing with the unfolding drama for the outlets already on air.

In those days, the BBC’s travel arrangements were outsourced to a travel agency. Their man on call was sleepy, distracted to the point of disinterest. Explaining we were on the verge of a potentially major international news story produced no enthusiasm.

‘Twelve airline seats – club class, to get the ‘unlimited’ extra baggage allowance – and four estate cars, please, at Orly or Charles de Gaulle airport,’ I said. ‘And we’ll probably need a dozen hotel rooms too – nearest the hospital where Diana’s been taken.’

‘If you want estate cars, I’ll have to send a fax to Avis Paris,’ he murmured, ‘That would be an extra 100 francs.’