When Alex Kelly was
six years old, medical examinations revealed that he had been repeatedly raped
over many years. He was subsequently taken into the care of Tower Hamlets
council.
In January 2012, when Alex was 15, he hanged himself at Cookham
Wood young offender institution in Kent. He’d been there for four months. For
most of this period, Alex had no allocated social worker, and council workers
argued with one another over their responsibilities to him.
Late last year, after an inquest jury
concluded that “systemic
failure” by the local authority and inadequate safeguarding within the prison
had contributed to
Alex’s death, the solicitor Mark
Scott, speaking for Alex’s father, said: “Alex was
extremely vulnerable and a child in need of care but instead was treated as a
child in need of custody.” (
PDF here)
Children who have suffered the most
horrendous hardships in their early lives
find little mercy in the state-organised punishment of penal incarceration. From everything that
could be known about a child, we select a fraction of his or her behaviour –
that which has breached the law – and construe their ‘master status’ as young
offender.
Many other descriptors could be used (if label we must) to more
accurately reflect children’s lives and circumstances, including victims of
poverty, maltreatment, bereavement, educational exclusion and institutional racism.
There is no question that the vast majority of child prisoners will have
suffered serious human rights violations.
Alex Kelly
Alex was one of 33
children to have died in English child prisons since 1990. That’s when the UK signed an international
children’s rights agreement to use detention only as a measure of last resort.
There has been a massive reduction in the number
of detained children over the past five years but, still, the UK remains one of
the chief child incarcerators in Europe.
In 1991, there were 572
children held
in prison service institutions; in March 2015, there were 706. A further
186 were detained in three secure training centres run by the
international security company G4S. (Children
were moved out of Hassockfield secure training centre, run by Serco, at
the end
of last year).
Just 11 per cent
of children in custody (112) were kept in secure children’s homes,
establishments governed by the Children Act 1989 and run by local authorities.
Only two of 47 Council of Europe member states, Russia and
Turkey, detained more children than the
UK in September 2013, the latest date for which Council of Europe figures are
available.
They are children
A few years
ago I set out to write a book about two boys, Gareth Myatt and Adam Rickwood,
who died following ‘restraint’ in secure training centres in 2004. I wanted to
find out what they were like as people, what made them laugh, what they enjoyed
doing, what plans they had for their lives. I hoped to be able to write about
them in such a way as to encourage policymakers to make connections with the
children in their own lives they love and cherish, and to thereby stimulate
radical action.
Then I read
Cruel
Britannia, Ian Cobain’s book on the British state’s use of torture, and I
decided to widen the scope of my work to examine the many harms caused by child
incarceration. Having been a children’s rights campaigner for many years, I was
already well aware of many of the scandals. But I knew there was much more to investigate
and expose.
My early
career as a child protection social worker had equipped me to ask uncomfortable
questions, to interrogate information and ‘facts’ presented by adults in
positions of power and to always stay firmly focused on the child’s feelings
and perspective. Several hundred FOIs, analysis of dozens of
parliamentary questions, 24 interviews and months of research and writing, and
here we are.
My book,
Children Behind Bars,
catalogues the mistreatment of vulnerable children held behind
perimeter fences and banged up in cells for 14 or more hours a day,
sometimes over a hundred miles from home.
These are children
banished to young offender institutions known to be violent and unsafe,
and secure training centres found by the High Court to have been sites
of “widespread unlawful use of restraint”.
Child prisoners are
exposed to practices that would invite state intervention were they to
happen in the community. A parent who locked a child in a tiny room for
more than 20 hours a day would, at the very least, be sent on a
compulsory course to correct his or her abusive behaviour. Yet such
mistreatment is routinely perpetrated by a punitive state that abandons
child protection norms when it comes to young offenders.
What else might explain the lack of public
outcry following an inspection report on a Staffordshire prison in March 2014? This told us children were being
locked in cells that were “the worst [inspectors] had seen for some
time. Some cells were filthy, gloomy and covered in graffiti, and contained
offensive material, heavily scaled toilets, damaged furniture and smashed
observation panels”. [
PDF]
Many of the cells holding children on their first night in the prison were “in an uninhabitable state”.
Three
quarters of child inmates were held in pairs in cells designed for
single occupancy. The inspectors noted: “Cells were cramped with not
enough furniture and inadequate toilet screening.”
Another inspection report that same month
tells of children at Wetherby young offender institution in West Yorkshire locked in cells so small they had to
sleep “in close proximity to the toilet”. [PDF]
In a third report — released in August
2014 — inspectors who visited Hindley
young offender institution, near Wigan, expressed concern about the prison’s
punishment and rewards scheme. At weekends, children on its lowest level spent at
most 135 minutes out of their cells. Boys sometimes had less than 15 minutes’
daily exercise in the open air. [PDF]
Here’s how Frances Crook, chief executive of
the Howard League for Penal Reform, sums up the effects of imprisonment on
children:
“It’s intellectually stultifying, it’s
emotionally inhibiting, it’s sexually inhibiting, it’s frightening, your
educational opportunities are restricted. In every aspect it’s negative.”
Six
years ago, after investigating the treatment of children and adults
with mental health problems and learning disabilities by the police,
courts and prisons,
Labour peer Lord Bradley reported:
“The prison environment, with its rules and regimes governing daily life, can be seriously detrimental to mental health.”
The
Children’s Commissioner for England documented the case of a primary
school girl who had suffered domestic violence and family breakdown. As a
newly imprisoned teenager, she refused to leave her cell for the first
six weeks.
Imagine a child in the community spending the whole of
the school summer holidays locked in an austerely furnished room with a
toilet, and food trays delivered to the door.
The experience of being sent to prison is deeply traumatic, as this boy told the Howard League for Penal Reform:
“My first night in custody was the worst night of my life. I’d never been lonely before. I felt so lonely.”
Joseph
Scholes left his parents a note before he hanged himself in prison a
month after his 16th birthday: “I’m sorry, I just can’t cope.”
See no evil. . .
How
can we explain the lack of outrage shown by the general public, the
media and among politicians, in response to 33 children dying in
institutions run by the state? Do people know?
Information drips from different sources. It is difficult to get the full picture.
There
is research and testimony published by campaign groups, human rights
bodies and academics. Some of the most shocking evidence is in court
reports, inquest transcripts, coroners’ notes and other official
documents that take some tracking down.
Then there is the use of euphemism and what psychologists might call avoidance techniques.
Officials rarely use the siren call of child abuse when it comes to prisons.
“Inappropriate”
was the adjective chosen by the prisons inspectorate to describe the
routine handcuffing and strip-searching of vulnerable children brought
to a specialist unit because they could not cope in an ordinary prison.
“Significant weakness” was how Ofsted noted
the absence of nurses, in contravention of the rules, during the use of restraint
in a secure training centre. Inspectors gave the commercial contractor G4S
three months to rectify the breach. In
February 2015, inspectors who had visited another G4S-run secure training
centre communicated their “concern” that a child with a fracture was denied
medical treatment for 15 hours.
Former head of the prison service, Martin
Narey, told parliamentarians of “the possibility that the public greatly
underestimates the full extent of the discomfort, pain and deprivation of
liberty for anyone of any age”. He said: “For a child it is particularly
traumatic.”
Significant harm
Knowingly causing children discomfort, pain
and trauma fits the definition of significant harm in the Children Act 1989 –
the part of the law sending social workers to front doors.
Harm in the 1989 Act means ill treatment or the
impairment of a child’s health or development, including, for example,
impairment suffered from seeing or hearing the ill treatment of others.
Development encompasses a child’s physical,
intellectual, emotional, social or behavioural development.
Health means
physical or mental health.
Ill treatment includes sexual abuse and other
kinds of mistreatment that are not physical.
For many years Chris Callender has worked with children in prison, as a
solicitor in law firms in Leeds and London and as the legal director of the
Howard League for Penal Reform. I asked him if any of his cases
involved a child suffering significant harm in prison. He said:
“Most of the cases are likely to be bullying
or intimidation or risk from either other prisoners or officers within the
context and confines of the imprisonment. I can’t think of many cases where
those young people were free from those issues.
“So I just think that
incarceration in YOIs [young offender institutions], particularly YOIs, the
risk of harm – whether through fights, through turf wars, through bullying,
threats from officers to children, or children to children – is endemic.”
According to government child protection rules,
physical abuse encompasses hitting, throwing and “otherwise causing physical harm to a child”.
Emotional abuse
can include “conveying to a child that they are worthless or unloved,
inadequate, or valued insofar as they meet the needs of another person”.
It may include silencing the child, belittling them and having
inappropriate expectations. Serious bullying, and making children feel
frightened and in danger a lot of the time, is a form of emotional
abuse.
Sexual abuse can include “forcing or enticing a child to take part in sexual activities”.
Neglect is the persistent failure to meet the child’s most basic needs.
You’d be terrified
In July 2013, the chief inspector of prisons, Nick Hardwick,
told BBC Radio 4’s Today programme that parents would be ‘terrified’ were their child to be incarcerated in Feltham young offender institution in London.
Had
this been a statement from the head of the Care Quality Commission
about an older people’s home, or a hospital for people with learning
disabilities, the establishment in question would have been closed down.
Prison service managers seem to have superhuman resilience to exposures
that would topple other organisations.
Feltham young offender
institution was the prison in which Zahid Mubarek, a British Asian
teenager, was placed in a cell with profoundly disturbed Robert Stewart
of the same age. On 21 March 2000, Stewart battered Mubarek into a coma
with a table leg. Such was the minimal staffing in the institution, and
the physical layout, that it was Stewart himself who first drew
attention to the ferocious attack by ringing his cell buzzer.
Nick Hardwick: 'If you were a parent with a child in Feltham you would be right to be terrified'
Zahid died in hospital. The
public inquiry into his death heard
that prison officers had devised a game called ‘Coliseum’, whereby
incompatible inmates would be deliberately detained in shared cells to
incite violence and staff made bets on the outcome.
The inquiry
was unable to substantiate those claims. However, it discovered that
three white prison officers had handcuffed an ethnic minority prisoner
to the bars of his cell, removed his trousers and smeared his bottom
with black shoe polish. The officers were given official warnings.
Two white trainee prison officers who urinated on a black trainee during a training course were dismissed.
The
then head of the prison service Martin Narey admitted: “It goes beyond
institutional racism to blatant malicious pockets of racism.
”
Sexual abuse of child prisoners
There were 181 boys in Feltham at the time of the ‘terrified parents
’ inspection.
Almost a third of children reported victimisation by a member of staff.
And 300 acts of violence had been perpetrated by children on each other
in the six months preceding the inspection. The inspectors found a
segregation unit, which also held young adults, with “ingrained dirt on
floors and walls”. [PDF]
The
prisons inspectorate’s survey of children held in 11 prisons the
previous year found 32 per cent of boys and 22 per cent of girls had
felt unsafe. More than one in 10 boys and almost a quarter of girls
reported being subject to insulting remarks by prison staff. Physical
abuse by staff was reported by 4 per cent of the boys. [
PDF]
At
least nine boys reported sexual abuse by staff and the same number said
other boys had sexually abused them. In one prison unit staff sexual
abuse was alleged by 6 per cent of the boys. One in every 20 boys
reported racial or ethnic abuse by staff. Nearly one tenth of children
reported bullying by prison officers in another piece of research;
child-on-child bullying was even higher.
[PDF]
An
FOI request I made to the prisons inspectorate revealed that, between
July 2009 and March 2014, inspectors reported 130 child protection
allegations from 112 children to prison child protection staff or
managers following 30 routine inspections of young offender institutions
and secure training centres in England.
Surveys in only two of the inspections resulted in no allegations of child abuse.
The
actual incidence of abuse may be much higher. Surveys of children in
unsafe surroundings are unlikely, on their own, to elicit the true level
of abuse and other concerns.
The Ministry of Justice agency that
runs prisons is called the National Offender Management Service, or
NOMS. Early in 2014 NOMS disclosed that it had paid £252,370 in
compensation over the past five years to individuals detained as
children or young adults in 12 English prisons.
Payouts in
respect of two child prisons — Warren Hill and Hindley young offender
institutions — amounted to £76,000 between 2008/09 and 2012/13.
Officials refused to disclose the nature of the claims, supposedly to
protect the identity of claimants.
No data was provided for
Ashfield young offender institution (which held children until 2013). As
a private prison, it is obliged to provide information only as
specified in its government contract, I was told. Nor can such data be
unearthed using FOI requests, since private prisons are not covered by
FOI legislation.
Imprisoning children means more than depriving
them of their liberty. It squanders precious time that could be spent
investigating what has gone wrong in their lives and changing it.
Adolescence is a period of massive transformation, when even teenagers living happy lives require careful handling. Imprisonment is a deliberate act of rejection, banishment and exclusion – the very antithesis of what these children need.
Child
prisoners rarely move from being fully included in society one day, to
outsiders the next. Barrister and peer Lord Carlile, who conducted an
inquiry into the treatment of child prisoners, described the
“animalised, brutalised structure” of prison life that compounds what has been missing in the lives of these children.
Hard lives, inside and out
Our
prisons are filled with the poorest, most disadvantaged children who
often have considerable mental health and learning difficulties. Even
before they begin the admissions process, which involves being given a
number, removing clothes and answering questions about suicidal thoughts
and substance misuse, the lives of most child prisoners will have told
them that they are worthless – certainly worth less than other
children.
Analysis of the forms completed when a child has
contact with the criminal justice system shows more than a third of
girls have been abused and many have endured significant bereavement or
loss (29 per cent) or witnessed family violence (24 per cent). Only 17
per cent live with both their parents. [
PDF]
Children learn in prison that suppressing
their feelings and being outwardly tough is the best way to survive. The chances are they believe this already.
Hunger is a common complaint. In January
2014, prisons minister Jeremy Wright told parliament the prison service spent
an average of
£1.96 a day on prisoner meals in 2013/14, an 11 per cent
reduction on the previous year. Even hospitals spend three times as much.
In a recent study of food in young offender
institutions, only one of the nine prisons achieved the policy requirement of
having no more than 14 hours between evening meal and breakfast.
In June 2014, children were served mouldy
bread in Cookham Wood young offender institution — while inspectors were on the
premises. [
PDF]
I can’t breathe
Coroners and judges have ruled that unlawful
restraint regimes continued unabated for many years in secure training centres.
Human rights bodies have criticised the UK’s reliance on pain infliction as a
tool of restraint.
INQUEST, the
charity that supports the bereaved families of children and adults who have
died in police and prison custody, told the government in 2007: “the violation
of the rights of this large body of children goes worryingly beyond inhumane
and humiliating treatment. It has been proved forensically that it presents a
persistent risk of injury, suffering or death.” [PDF]
It is a matter of public record that large
numbers of children have been injured, many very badly, following restraint in
penal institutions over the past decade.
In November 2011,
parliament was told
that 285 ‘exception reports’ had been submitted to civil servants since 2006 by
commercial contractors G4S and Serco in respect of the four secure training
centres. The two companies are required to produce these reports whenever
children’s breathing has been compromised during restraint, or they have
suffered serious injury requiring hospital treatment.
There are details that do not make their way
to parliament, such as the five children who suffered six wrist fractures
during restraint in Castington young offender institution between January 2007
and September 2008. A reply to a question in parliament in December 2007
reported that only one child had suffered such an injury after restraint in
that prison that year. Even the government’s correction in September
2009 did not result in the true figure being recorded.
The internal report I obtained through an FOI
request states that none of the five children was restrained because they were
fighting and that most of the injuries were sustained in areas without CCTV.
A separate internal prison review was undertaken after six incidents in
which children were thought to have suffered a fractured or broken bone during
restraint in Hindley young offender institution (one suspected fracture was
later found to have been wrongly diagnosed). The injuries occurred between
February 2009 and April 2011, and only one of the situations arose because a
child was fighting. One boy made an official complaint to the Prisons and
Probation Ombudsman after he was moved to another prison. It was upheld.
Information obtained from the Youth Justice
Board records, on average, 84 self-harm incidents in young offender
institutions, and 16 in secure training centres, every month throughout 2012.
Between 2007/08 and 2011/12, 81 children in young offender
institutions and 17 in secure training centres required hospital treatment
following self-harm.
One teenage girl incarcerated in a women’s
prison in Wakefield self-harmed so badly she needed blood transfusions. She was
passed back and forth between prison segregation and hospital until her lawyer
at the Howard League for Penal Reform obtained a High Court injunction in 2005
preventing her return to prison.
Her barrister, Ian Wise QC, said:
“There
were women prison officers who were trying to do the right thing for [the girl]
I’m sure, but they were just totally out of their depth. I mean these people
have got no training on mental health issues.”
Now, strip
As a child protection social worker, I worked
with children who had been sexually assaulted in their own homes. I spent a lot
of time reassuring children they were not to blame and no-one had the right to
hurt them. Some years later, during my work on Lord Carlile’s inquiry, I met
children who had been strip-searched in secure training centres. They said they
felt embarrassed, degraded and uncomfortable. One girl told me about being strip-searched
during her period; she had to pass her sanitary towel to staff for inspection. [
PDF]
Had I still been a social worker, and these
children were telling me about their fathers, uncles or children’s homes
workers, they would have been officially classed as victims of child abuse. But
as child prisoners such routine attacks on their integrity were authorised by
the state.
Children in young offender institutions have
reported being made to squat in front of officers without their underwear.
Routine strip-searching was banned for female
prisoners several years before the same policy change for children.
When Lord Carlile concluded that strip-searching
is not necessary to maintain good order and safety, the Youth Justice Board
promised a review. Its then chair,
Rod
Morgan, argued in The Guardian: “Some young people arrive in custody
with drugs or weapons hidden on their bodies and clothing. The consequences of
drugs or knives inside a secure establishment are not hard to imagine, and
every precaution, including searching, has been taken to stop this.”
So Morgan and the Youth Justice Board must have had robust
evidence that strip-searching was necessary?
Not so.
The Youth Justice Board began collecting strip-searching data
only in 2011, five years after the Carlile Inquiry reported and eleven years
after it was given legal responsibility for booking children into prisons.
Rod Morgan resigned in January 2007,
telling BBC Newsnight: “I have to say to you that a
custodial establishment, no matter how good we make them, is the worst
conceivable environment within which to improve somebody’s behaviour.”
How to dehumanise
In June 2011, inspectors observed “petty and
restrictive” rules operating in Lancaster Farms young offender institution.
Only children on the highest level of the behaviour management scheme could
wear their own clothes and even this was restricted to their cells and during
other very limited periods. [
PDF] Earlier inspection reports showed this to be
institutionally entrenched.
Five months into the new millennium, inspectors found
the prison was experiencing “problems getting Prison Service clothes small enough
for many of the residents” and recommended: “Small clothing should be available
from Central Prison Service Stores.” [
PDF]
This was five years after the
NSPCC had published a report
from survivors of abuse in care. One of the violations depicted in the
report concerned the humiliation of being forced to wear communal
clothing:
“If we did not achieve so many points we were not allowed to wear our own clothes.”
The
final inspection of Warren Hill young offender institution in Suffolk
before it became an adult prison in April 2014 reported that children
were made to wear prison clothes but could keep their own underwear and
socks. The only washing facility for underwear and socks was cell
basins, so “many chose to wear prison-issue underclothes”. [
PDF]
A
children’s charity was asked to review safeguarding in child prisons
and its 2008 report observed that journeys to the young offender
institutions
“get them off to a frightening start.
They often arrived late after hours spent in a small, uncomfortable
cubicle within a van, frightened not only about where they are being
taken to but what will happen to them if the van crashes”. [PDF] Some children were given plastic bags to urinate in, a demeaning practice reported by inspectors as recently as March 2014.
Deborah
Coles is the co-director of INQUEST and has been working for the
charity since before teenager Philip Knight hanged himself in an adult
prison in Swansea in 1990. She told me:
“I didn’t have
children when I was involved with Philip Knight, and 1994 was when [my
son] was born and I do think that, as my kids have grown up, and you see
the vulnerability of your own kids who are in supportive environments
with food on the table, have got a home, are relatively stable or go to a
nice school, and then you look at these kids who are in prison, it just
makes you ... it hits you in a different way actually, it makes you
even more ashamed.”
Since Philip’s death, inquests
have recorded a verdict of suicide for 12 children’s deaths in penal
custody, and accidental death for eight of the children. There were four
narrative verdicts, five open verdicts, three verdicts of misadventure
and one unlawful killing. Accidental death and misadventure are verdicts
given when juries decide a death was unintended; narrative verdicts are
detailed statements of the background issues surrounding a person’s
death; and an open verdict means there was insufficient evidence to
return another verdict.
All but four of the children whose
deaths were judged to be suicide were known to have self-harmed in the
past or were being monitored at the time of their death. You wouldn’t
have to be a child psychiatrist to doubt whether the remaining four
could withstand imprisonment. One had developed serious alcohol problems
after the death of his mother from cancer on his 14th birthday. Another
had severe learning difficulties and was worried about his parents who
both had cancer. A third child had endured chronic bullying and
requested to be placed in segregation for his own safety. The parents of
the fourth child criticised the prison for not allowing their son his
medication for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.
Two of the 33 children who died as prisoners, 15-year-old Gareth Myatt and 14-year-old
Adam Rickwood,
were held in secure training centres run by G4S and Serco respectively.
These boys died four months apart, 10 years ago, after being subject to
appalling forms of restraint.
Gareth Myatt
Before he lost consciousness, Gareth told the
three guards holding him down that he could not breathe. The response was that
if he could speak he could breathe. He died minutes later from positional
asphyxia. The Youth Justice Board suspended the use of the seated double embrace, the
authorised hold used on Gareth, two months later.
Adam was subject to ‘nose distraction’ — the
official euphemism for a severe assault to the nose — just hours before he
was found hanging in his cell. Adam’s nose bled for about an hour, and his
request to go to hospital for an X-ray was refused. He left behind a note
asking what gave staff the right to hit a child in the nose.
Ministers
eventually withdrew this particular technique. However,
the deliberate infliction of pain by other methods remains.
Adam RickwoodNone
of the 33 child deaths in prison has been dignified with a public
inquiry. Adam Rickwood’s mother told me she is still not certain what
her son was wearing when he lost consciousness, since the prison had
mislaid some of his clothes.
She described Hassockfield
secure training centre in County Durham as “the scariest place I have
ever witnessed”. Adam himself, in one letter home, described
“a 30-foot wall and cage all around me”.
Politicians and large unpleasant thugs
Michael Howard, the home secretary who signed
the first contract for a secure training centre, famously said in 1993 that
child offenders “are adult in everything except years”.
Fifteen years later, Labour’s secretary of
state for justice, Jack Straw, was asked whether he would reverse the UK’s
standing in Europe as the greatest child incarcerator.
He replied:
“Most young
people who are put into custody are aged 16 and 17 – they are not children;
they are often large, unpleasant thugs, and they are frightening to the public.”
On that very day,
Straw’s prisons minister
told parliament there were 458 children in young offender institutions and
secure training centres who were known to be at risk of self-harm, 419 at known
risk of drug dependency, 310 with known mental health problems and 91 at known
risk of bullying. Nearly 400 children were in prison for the first time.
The justice secretary should have been aware
that, of the 30 child deaths in custody there had been at the time of his
speech, 24 were children aged 16 or 17. All 30 of the dead children were boys.
The coalition government’s justice secretary
Chris Grayling
announced
through the Daily Telegraph in July 2013 that his department was reviewing
the punishment and rewards scheme in child prisons: “It seems ludicrous to me
that we dole out privileges regardless of how children behave,” he wrote. “Luxuries
must be a reward for good behaviour not an automatic right.”
An international review of prison mother and
baby units observed that girls in the G4S-run Rainsbrook secure training centre
“can even earn the privilege of putting posters on the walls”. [
PDF]
Grayling asserted that children would
“face
tough sanctions” for breaching a 10.30 pm lights and television curfew.
There are many reasons children come to rely
on artificial light and television and radio into the early hours, including
fear, loneliness and restlessness.
I have
spoken with children who have had everything removed from their cells as
a
sanction, including photographs and education certificates from walls.
Not one of them has ever told me that this helped improve their
behaviour.
This is the first of three edited extracts from Children Behind Bars: why the abuse of child imprisonment must end.
Part two tomorrow: Mothers and sons. On children who have died in UK
prisons. And Wednesday: The sex abusers guarding Britain’s most
vulnerable children. Detailed references can be found in the book.
Children Behind Bars can be purchased from Policy Press here (£12.99 plus £2.75 postage and packing). Subscribers to the Policy Press newsletter receive a 35 per cent discount. You can sign up here.
Original illustration is by Reece Wykes, working
in charcoal, digitally enhanced. Wykes is a London-based illustrator
and animator freshly graduated from Kingston University. He tweets @ReeceWykes
Le
gouvernement britannique a annoncé qu'il mettrait en place une
commission d'enquête indépendante sur le décès des jeunes de 18 à 24 ans
en détention. Je veux leur dire quelques petites choses sur les morts
en détention, sur les décès des jeunes et des moins jeunes aussi.
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