In defence of second chances

When I was 11 years old, I was taken away in the back of a police car and delivered to a building with tall, imposing gates. Beside them was a sign protesting the building’s existence. This was a Glasgow children’s home and was billed as a ‘therapeutic environment’ for vulnerable young people.

Locals resented its presence. As far as they were concerned, the children who called this facility home were young thugs hellbent on intimidating local people. We were criminals who were fire-raising and house-breaking in between committing all manner of sexual offences.

This was the world portrayed to the people of Glasgow by a popular newspaper of the time. It bore no relation to the truth about us or our lives, but the scare stories put people on edge. I would walk around my community under a battery of suspicious eyes.

In reality, I was a sad young boy. I was taken away from my family not because I was a criminal or a trouble-maker or ‘difficult’, but because of a mental health crisis in the family.