Punished for a disability he never received support for

Luca’s story

I was born too early, alone in a plastic box with tubes everywhere, not that I remember it. Mum reckons I ruined her life, but she was already a mess – always drinking and using. They say I was lucky to survive. Doesn’t feel like it most days.

Home was never safe. Mum was either off her head or crashing hard, and my stepdad was worse. Fights, yelling – that was just normal. I learned to keep quiet, to stay out of the way, to cop a punch without making a sound.

School didn’t work for me. Reading, numbers, rules – it all felt like too much. Teachers called me lazy, but my brain just works different. They said I got FASD, from Mum drinking when she was pregnant. Said I had an intellectual disability too. Just felt like more stuff wrong with me.

By twelve, I knew school wouldn’t save me. Started hanging with older boys, pinching smokes, breaking into cars. Felt like I finally belonged. Mum and my stepdad didn’t care too caught up in their own mess. The cops started knowing my name.

At fourteen, I stole a Ute with my mates, did some donuts, got caught. Just got a warning that time. But my stepdad kicked me out, I didn’t care, the streets felt safer than home ever did.

Then one night it got serious. We broke into a house with knives, wasn’t my idea but I liked that it felt next level. Like something in a movie. We were grabbing stuff and the owner woke up. Old mate started screaming and swinging a golf club. I bolted, but the others got caught, hurt the guy, and ratted me out. No more warnings. The judge sent me to youth corrections.

Inside, it’s rough. Grey walls, crap food, guards that don’t take shit. But for the first time, the rules don’t change depending on someone’s mood. I get fed, I go to school, even if it’s hard. There’s a worker here, Sarah, who says I’m not stupid, just different. She says I can still turn things around. Not sure I believe her yet.

Some nights, I lie in my bunk and wonder – if things had been different, would I still be here? If Mum had gotten help, if I got those therapies when I was little and school supported me, if someone had stepped in early – would I have had a chance?

Disclaimer: This is a composite narrative based on real experiences of people living with brain injury and involvement in the justice system. While the story reflects common themes and challenges, the character and events are fictionalised to protect individual privacy. 

The prevalence of FASD in the youth justice system is widespread and well documented by case studies that highlight the issue. If we don’t begin to recognise the role FASD plays into youth crime, we will continue to punish disadvantaged youth that need diagnosis and a pathway that recognises their situation. 

At a practical level, that means: 

• Family education on FASD, many families are unaware of the struggles their children are facing, further education is needed to help raise awareness around identifying FASD. 

• Early intervention therapies, with early intervention behaviour can be greatly improved and managed from a young age in a sympathetic and appropriate manner. 

• School’s require support and education for teachers that allow them to accommodate for those they teach with FASD particularly when it comes to learning design, as those with FASD will not learn in the same manner as other students. 

• It is important for those with FASD to be introduced to very positive cultural, social, and health connections early on as many with FASD can be lead astray into dysfunctional behaviour due to a lack of impulse control and behavioural dysregulation. 

Advocacy: Through our work and conversations with other stakeholders we have advocated for change and the acknowledgement of FASD and it’s prevalence in the Youth Justice System. Our work continues in this space and will grow into the future, as we see it as a major issue facing youth with FASD.