‘It feels like you’re dead’: By age 18, Jayden had been to police stations about 25 times

This article contains disturbing content and references to suicide.
It’s a balmy winter morning when we meet Jayden Summerfield, an 18-year-old metalworker, in the shed where he works in Toowoomba, Queensland. Today he’s making beds for a new prison under construction near the country town of Gatton.

“It feels a little ironic that I’m making stuff for prisons when I just came from one,” he tells The Feed.

Jayden has never been to an adult prison. But by the time he turned 18, he had already cycled through Queensland’s youth justice system. He’s out now — but his time behind bars and in police stations still hurts.
Queensland than anywhere else in Australia; and like Jayden, the majority of them are indigenous.
Before they go to trial, minors are held in police cells in pre-trial detention. These are cells specifically intended for adults who have been arrested and are being questioned, including drunk and disorderly persons.
It is meant to be temporary, but with Because the waiting rooms are so full, some children spend weeks in the waiting room.
Since the age of 11, Jayden has been in police custody approximately 25 times and in juvenile detention centers more than a dozen times.
The worst, he says, is “the box”: a small, windowless isolation cell in a guardhouse, usually reserved for violent or suicidal adult offenders. In Queensland, they are also used for children.
For years there have been human rights concerns about the use of adult watch houses to detain young offenders in Queensland and their treatment there. Children as young as 11 years old are held in these facilities for weeks at a time.

A joint investigation by The Feed and Guardian Australia has obtained exclusive footage revealing what happens to children in these solitary cells, known as ‘the box’. In one case, a teenage First Nations girl with a severe intellectual disability is held down by three police officers.

A man in yellow work clothes and a protective helmet is sanding metal with a concentrated face

Part of Jayden’s job as a metalworker is building beds for adult prisons. Source: SBS

In response, the Queensland Police Service said in a statement: “All complaints of abuse or inappropriate conduct in a guard house are treated seriously and will be investigated.”

Police said they risk assess arrested children and consider their physical and mental health needs. They also said isolation cells are used for offenders who pose a danger to themselves or others and need to be separated.
“If the person becomes violent or aggressive or exhibits harmful behavior, the use of a violent detention cell is considered a way to ensure the safety and well-being of the person, the guard house staff and other prisoners,” the statement said.
Queensland Youth Justice Minister Di Farmer said young people are being held in youth detention centres and juvenile detention centres because a court has ruled they pose a danger to themselves and the community.
“Of course we don’t want to keep them in those prisons for a long time, but that’s why we ensure a strong system of accountability and transparency around the young people who are in those prisons,” she said.

According to Farmer, the average time youths were held in waiting rooms last month was five and a half hours, and the longest time was 17 days.

Inside a watch house

Jayden was 11 when he was first placed in a shelter. He said the longest he ever spent there was two and a half weeks at a time.
“It messes with your head. It feels like you’ve been in it for months. You don’t even know what day it is,” he said.

“You feel like you’re dead, it’s not a nice place.”

Conditions in the guardhouses varied, Jayden said. Some cells had only thin mattresses and a toilet. The cells were made of concrete and were cold — especially in the winter.
“Usually you hope they give you two blankets, so you can at least use one as a sheet and one as a blanket. Because if you only sleep on that, you’ll get a rash.”

When asked about the food, he replied, “Depends on how hungry you are. But it’s pretty bad.”

Jayden said he often had to share the small space with four or five other boys. They talked or slept to pass the time. He read a book when he could get his hands on one.
“Sometimes they give them to you, you just have to ask for them,” he said. “You can’t do anything else unless you’re in a cell with a TV — you just lie there [sic] there. And even with the TVs, you can’t even hear from your cell phone. So you’re just looking at a screen.”
If there were no books or television, he would just lie down and try to sleep.

He said falling asleep was a challenge because he was stressed by the uncertainty of how long he would be held and because sleeping on a concrete floor was uncomfortable.

A young man wears protective gloves and a protective helmet as he focuses on a blue board that he assumes is used for metalworking

Jayden’s life is back on track after his time in prison, but he still carries the scars from that time. Source: SBS

Jayden said he was in solitary confinement “a few times,” and it was worse than a regular cell. They were small, windowless rooms with no toilet or mattress.

“All you do is sit there, think…wait to go. It makes time go even slower. Ten minutes feels like an hour, two hours,” he recalls.

He claimed that isolation cells were often used as punishment when children misbehaved in the guardhouse.

“Generally [children were put into isolation cells]“It could be something stupid,” he said.

“Most of the people I’ve ever seen go there weren’t trying to hurt themselves. It was always to get in trouble with the police or something.”

Life after the guardhouse

Jayden said his life is better now. He has a full-time job and a place to live. But memories of his time in waiting rooms still haunt him.
He believes that juvenile detention and juvenile detention do not deter young people from crime.

“I know guys who are in prison for a year. Within a week they’re committing crimes. It’s not about ‘building more prisons and making the time harder.’ They need to invest more in juvenile justice, helping guys who are trying to stop.”

You are who you hang out with, so even if you try your best, you can’t be good if you’re around criminals doing drugs.

Tim Spall, a Gija man who previously worked as a psychologist in Brisbane, uses equine therapy with Indigenous children, many of whom have ended up in the juvenile justice system.

A portrait of a man with shaggy long gray hair, a goatee, a cowboy hat, a chain and a shirt that says "Beyond the Pale, Horse Therapy"

Tim Spall is a man from Gija who uses horses as therapy for children who have ended up in the juvenile justice system. Source: SBS

He said he has lost count of the number of children he has worked with who have committed suicide: “over 50, closer to a hundred.”

“Some kids really see it as their only option to escape the experience they’re trying to process,” Spall said.

He said many indigenous children he works with have become disconnected from their community and culture.

“They really struggle with their own identity [and] to feel like they belong somewhere. Our First Nations children in particular feel judged before they have the chance to have their first say,” he said.

Spall uses horses to treat trauma and teach children to build connection and trust: first with animals, then with people.

A horse is touched on its face by a young person whose face we cannot see, dressed in shorts

Spall uses animals to help children cope with trauma and build trust. Source: SBS

Like Jayden, he doesn’t think the juvenile justice system deters young people from crime. In fact, he believes it encourages recidivism, making kids feel unwanted in the community.

“Society basically tells them they are a criminal. Once they get into that system, they identify as criminals and that path continues,” he said.
Spall said the justice system should focus on keeping children out of juvenile detention centers to prevent them from ending up in adult criminal justice.
“There is no such thing as a bad child. There are traumatized children.”
“They’re not born naughty, something happened. And if we want to change that, we need to identify what that is and build on that.”
Readers seeking crisis support can contact Lifeline on 13 11 14, the Suicide Call Back Service on 1300 659 467 and Kids Helpline on 1800 55 1800 (for young people under 25). Further mental health information and support is available at beyondblue.org.au and on 1300 22 4636.
If you or someone you know is experiencing or at risk of experiencing domestic, family or sexual violence, call 1800RESPECT on 1800 737 732 or visit 1800RESPECT.org.au.
If you or someone you know is worried or feeling unwell, we encourage you to call 13YARN on 13 92 76 and speak to an Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander Crisis Supporter.

You can contact Aboriginal Counselling Services on 0410 539 905.

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