"This Could Be Your Child." #bedroomshutmusicup
- David Anglin
- 3 days ago
- 2 min read
Updated: 44 minutes ago
“But hear what I’m saying to you — you’ll never understand the worry a parent feels when you’re out of sight. You may be grown, but to us, you’re still our precious child. So go home and make peace with them. You may not feel it right now, but your parents actually love you.”
That’s what I told one of our young people, who’d been falling off track — missing for days, numbing himself with vodka. He was drifting into a cycle I’ve seen too often. I needed him to understand what he couldn’t yet feel.
“As parents, we don’t always get it right. I’ve made plenty of mistakes. But every decision I’ve made has come from love. And after speaking with your parents, I know they’re coming from that same place. They just don’t want to see you end up in jail — or worse.”
I said that because I’ve also seen what it looks like when a parent doesn’t love their child…
I began working with young people in the criminal justice system because I genuinely wanted to understand: how does someone become so caught in a system where, from the outside, it’s clear there’s no winning?
In my own family, some have been behind bars for so long they now call prison a “second home.” Some might call that foolish. I think it’s more complicated. Many are highly intelligent — articulate enough to talk you out of your lunch money and your five-summer savings. Yet still, they spend more summers behind bars than bartenders slinging two-for-one Pimm’s and lemonade in pub gardens.
Why? I’ve come to believe the answer lies in two things: trauma and missed education.
Fifteen years of running youth programmes has revealed the same patterns over and over — parental death, absence, addiction, abuse. I could give more extreme examples, but I’ll keep it PG. And as we’ve been interviewing ex-offenders for our latest exhibition Bedroom Shut Music Up, those patterns keep re-emerging — like Jason Voorhees, only he’s not waiting for Friday the 13th anymore.
If you’ve read this far, I salute you. You clearly care about community. And that matters — because trauma doesn’t always come with sirens and smashed windows. Sometimes it whispers. Often, it’s what happens after the trauma that shapes the path.
Maybe it’s your child. Your godson. Your niece. Your neighbour’s kid. I’ve seen young people doing just fine — until one event knocks everything off course. Then come the care placements, the court dates. And before long, they’re burning down the village just to feel its warmth.
This isn’t just their story. It’s our story. As it could be yours.
Want to understand more from the inside? RSVP to our exhibition.
We’re keeping it real — blending music, raw stories, and immersive sets that’ll make you shout (in the voice of D Double E):“Oh my God!”
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