The criminalisation of child asylum seekers in the UK - Iselworth Crown Court, January 2025.

This post was written by our casework manager - Taran Cheema after she observed a court hearing for a child client of HFRN, currently being treated as an adult by the courts, and charged with immigration offences.

Today, we sat in court and listened as judges and counsel discussed the case of a young asylum seeker, someone who, by all accounts, should be treated as a child. Instead, he is trapped in an adult prison, sharing a cell with a man more than twice his age.

He fled his country, hoping for safety and a chance to rebuild his life in the UK. Instead, he found himself in a situation he could have never anticipated - his freedom stripped away, confined in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by a language he does not yet understand. He is scared and alone. We think about the resilience it took for him to reach the UK, and what we have given him in return. Or rather, what we haven’t.

We entered that courtroom hoping for something to shift in his favor. But as the hearing ended, we walked away knowing everything remained the same. 

As we listened, we couldn't help but feel the disconnect. There we were, in the sterile environment of the courtroom, listening to discussions about his fate with calculated objectivity, while local authorities delayed their responses and responsibilities. Every day of delay means another day in prison and another day of fear, confusion, and risk. The professionals involved acknowledge the safeguarding risks, but where is the urgency? Where is the determination to act?

We can't help but ask: would this be happening if he were a British, white child? Would he be left in prison for over a month, sharing a cell with an unrelated adult, with hearings separated by weeks and bureaucratic hurdles keeping him there? We all know the answer. If he were a white British child, there would be an outcry. There would be action. The system would work differently. Because the harsh reality is this: the justice system is not blind. It sees race. It sees nationality. And it treats children like him as problems to be managed, not young lives to be protected.

There should be no degrees of childhood, no measure of worthiness, no distinction between “children like him” and others. A child is a child - no exceptions. Yet, we are failing him. We are turning a blind eye. And every moment of our inaction is a failure we can no longer afford to accept. He deserves more. He deserves to be seen for who he is - a child. He deserves our commitment to getting him out of prison and our unwavering protection - not just in his asylum case, but in his fundamental right to safety and to childhood.