Locked Away, Left Behind: The Retraumatisation of Care Leavers in Custody

There’s a silence in prison that isn’t peace, it’s the weight of too many untold stories. Walk down the corridors of any youth offender institution or adult prison, and you’ll find a disproportionate number of care-experienced young people behind those locked doors. Not because they were born criminals. Not because they were destined to be here. But because the very system that was meant to protect them failed, over and over again.

For a child in care, every move, every placement, every rejection chips away at something deep inside. The bin bag packed in a hurry, the social worker who doesn’t remember their name, the foster home that never truly felt like home. And then, the school exclusions, the nights spent in police stations, the gradual descent into a world that sees them as a problem, not a person. When they finally end up in custody, society shakes its head, but rarely asks the real question: How did we let this happen?

Custody is not just a sentence, it is a reawakening of old wounds. The locked cell mimics the locked doors of care homes. The strip searches reignite the powerlessness of being removed from their birth families and the trauma of past abuse, forcing them to relive experiences they have spent years trying to forget. The unpredictability of officers shouting orders brings back the fear of unpredictable placements. The trauma doesn’t begin in prison, it is merely continued, reinforced, and deepened.

In the chaos of prison life, retraumatisation happens daily. A young person who has never known stability now lives under strict routines and harsh punishments. A child who was removed from their parents because of neglect or abuse now sits alone in a cell, unseen and unheard. No visits. No one checking in. Isolation in care was unbearable. In prison, it is soul-destroying. They become more vulnerable, used and abused by other prisoners, manipulated for protection, exploited for survival. The very system that was meant to keep them safe has now made them an easy target.

And what happens when they leave? Many are released with nothing. No home, no support, no sense of belonging. The cycle starts again, and the risk of returning to custody looms large. It is not rehabilitation, it is abandonment in another form.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. We can do better. We can ensure that care-experienced young people in custody are given therapeutic support, not just punishment. We can train prison staff in trauma-informed and trauma-responsive care. We can stop the school exclusions that push children in care closer to the criminal justice system. And we can finally start listening, to their pain, their experiences, their hopes for something more.