Clare Nowland’s tasering is a symptom of a bigger problem.

This article was originally published by Hireup.

My heart stopped when I heard the news that a frail, 95-year-old woman had been Tasered by police. The headlines have shocked the country but for me they hit especially close to home. This tragedy is one of my biggest fears but not because I have a grandma with dementia. I don’t. I do, however, have children with disability.

Unable to communicate effectively and easily overwhelmed by the world around them, or the pain within them, my children – like Clare Nowland – sometimes exhibit fight or flight responses that others can deem ‘challenging’. And like Clare Nowland, those entrusted with their care have called the police when confronted with these ‘behaviours’.

It was only by luck that I arrived at my son’s school first. I’d received a call telling me he was “unsettled” and there had been an “incident”. I jumped in the car to collect him. I was talking with a friend on the phone as I walked into the school grounds. That’s when I heard the sirens.

A police van, packed with officers, raced into the school, lights flashing, sirens blaring.

“Something’s happening at the school,” I said to my friend. “A whole busload of police just arrived.”

I hung up and walked toward my son’s classroom. To my surprise, the police walked in the same direction.

“What are you here for?” I asked them. “We’ve been called because of a problem with a student,” they answered.

We kept walking toward the same classroom block, then it dawned on me. They were here for my son. A disabled child built like a toothpick. I looked around at the well-armed squad of well-built officers. Six of them followed me into the corridor where my son lay quietly and exhausted from the ordeal which had prompted the school to call me.

The police stood around as I spoke to school staff trying to figure out what had gone on. There seemed to be some confusion.

“Who here”, I asked the officers and teachers gathered, “has had any training in disability?” Only the teachers raised their hands.

Image: Supplied.

Later, when I was home with my son, I called police headquarters to ask how we can stop history from repeating itself. “Tell the school not to call us”, was the officer’s response. He told me police hate being sent to situations like this. That they have no training in disability. That the only tools at their disposal in these cases are to subdue or restrain. And that they know how the headlines would look if they had Tasered, physically restrained or arrested, my young, disabled son.

This is why my anger wasn’t directed at the police that day, although it embedded a fear that still remains. My burning question then – and last week when I heard of Clare Nowland’s Tasering – was, why were the police called in the first place?

My children, like Ms Nowland, are entrusted to the care of people supposedly trained in how to support them. Why were they not able to do so? Why were the resources and skills not there?

Image: Supplied.

In times of crisis, people with disability – which includes dementia – require specialised support, not law enforcement. Calling the cops not only places them at risk, it criminalises behaviour intrinsically linked to their disability and often beyond their control.

In my kids’ case, so-called “behaviours of concern” are a sign they aren’t coping. They may be confused, afraid, frustrated or in pain. Because of their disability, they are unable to tell us this in any other way but through their behaviour. I’ve learned to speak their behavioural language and my kids feel happy and safe as a result. But those that haven’t learned to read the signs place people who are already struggling at risk – and on a collision course with the legal system.

It’s a point not lost on the Disability Royal Commission (DRC). A report commissioned by the DRC found people with intellectual disability make up 15 percent of the prison population despite comprising less than three percent of the general one. One in four of all First Nations inmates have an intellectual disability. This over-representation is not because disabled people – like my kids or Ms Nowland - are inherently criminal masterminds. It’s because their behaviour is commonly misunderstood and frequently criminalised.

This is why psychologists in this space are increasingly reframing “behaviours of concern” as “environments of concern”, recognising that people’s behaviour is typically a response to their situation or surroundings. Notably, the Disability Royal Commission uses the term “behaviours of protest” for similar reasons.

I can understand why those not familiar with disability may not be aware of this. What I can’t comprehend, however, is why “special ed” schools and units, disability service providers, and aged-care facilities haven’t grasped this fundamental point. It would – and should – underpin how they deliver their core services. If they don’t know this basic tenant, they need to learn it or leave. Failing to do so places children like mine – and grandmothers like Clare Nowland – at risk for things they can’t control.

Megan Maack, who runs the Childhood Dementia Initiative, has two children who have dementia and struggle with its behavioural and psychological symptoms.

Maack says that – to accommodate their needs – she has “built complex and comprehensive support scaffolding around them” which helps keep them settled and safe.

“But like all carefully laid plans,” she says, “I know almost certainly that one day this plan will fail. It's not a matter of if, but when. A series of events will occur that we did not foresee, could not prevent, and when it does, what will await my scared, confused, distressed child?

“Will it be someone who understands he will not respond as his neurotypical peers would, that he doesn't understand their commands or the ramifications of behaviours that he is unable to control? Or will it be a police officer with a Taser who has been empowered only to respond with force and restraint?

Image: Supplied.

Madeleine Witham has an adult daughter with disability who, as a child, attended a “special school” until she was seven, when her family was encouraged to integrate her into a mainstream class. Within six months of doing so, Witham says, Ella was expelled for being “a danger to herself and others”.

“She was no danger to anyone,” says Witham, “but she didn’t have the supports she needed to succeed in that environment. Unfortunately this came down to the extra money this would have involved and the correct training. It’s far easier to just remove the ‘problem’ from the school by citing ‘danger’.

“When people are uneducated and untrained to deal with situations concerning difficult behaviours then the first reaction is an overreaction” Witham says. “This is based on fear and not on fact, which places the vulnerable person in danger and allows unnecessary abuse to occur which is masked as ‘self-defence’.”

Image: Supplied.

Six armed police officers racing toward my son’s classroom was, indisputably, an overreaction. As was an elderly woman in a walking frame being Tasered.

As we call for greater awareness and training for police, we should also demand the same of those whose job it is to support frail or disabled people. Especially when failing to do so can have such tragic consequences. For my son, different school leadership and extra training is making positive change. But to end with Maack’s words, “let’s hope the tragedy that surrounds Clare Nowland can be a turning point for us all.”

This post was originally published on Hireup.

Briana Blackett is a journalist and advocate for her two children with disability. After more than 20 years in TV news, she now works for Hireup as part of its Communications and Advocacy team.

Featured Image: Supplied.

'Clare Nowland’s Tasering is horrifying but it’s a symptom of a bigger problem.'

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