Week 15: The Tale of Laughing Boy #107days

So we’re here again, the end of #107days for the second time. It is hard to believe it’s now two years since LB died. There really aren’t any words. Today we’re pleased to be able to share The Tale of Laughing Boy with you.

Produced by the brilliant My Life My Choice and Oxford Digital Media, with funding from Oxford City Council, grab a cuppa and sit back to watch.

Thanks to each and every one of you who have supported #JusticeforLB these past two years and both #107days campaigns. As Sara says of the campaign in the film:

‘These people haven’t met Connor, they don’t know Connor and yet they recognise the injustice of what’s happened, they recognise what a quirky and colourful individual he was and they’re acting, and they’re prepared to say this is wrong and join in. I think that’s absolutely amazing, it’s been so heart warming and so reassuring that so many people have stepped up and done all these different things and got in touch, and are really moved by it all. They just get it, I think that’s great, that has meant the world to us’.

Screenshot 2015-07-03 23.56.48

As for Sara’s hopes for the future:

‘My beyond wildest dreams would be that… we didn’t even have to talk about learning disabled people, because there wouldn’t need to be that division, because everybody would have a right to live where they choose, everybody has an imagined future, and the distinction between being learning disabled and being non-learning disabled would become sort of irrelevant, because it isn’t an issue’.

Final word goes to Rich:

‘In many respects the world would be a lot better place if we all behaved more like Connor and less like not-Connors; his sort of approach to life was so straight forward and simple… uncomplicated… you just sort of think I wish I could be more like that, I wish we could all be more like that… we should all be more like Connor and people like Connor and the world would be a much better place, and it would be a much more inclusive place, and actually we might all enjoy it a bit more.

Imagine, just imagine for a moment…. and ACT!

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Week 5: Quilt Graffiti #107days

This week of #107days is focused on the amazing Justice Quilt which is coming to the end of its residency at People’s History Museum, Manchester.

Chalkboard3

Jack, who took the awesome photos in the last post, wrote us a guest post about his visit to see it at the weekend:

I am truly honoured to have my photos on here. When we got there on Saturday, first of all I was trying to capture the quilt from every possible angle I could find (Sara if you want about 30 more photos of the exact same thing but with more blur, random building structures, people in the way and poor lighting, I’ve got you covered).

Then I began to look properly, still taking photos of course, but looking at each individual patch.

Ceri, Phil and I were there pointing out all the incredible intricate designs for about the next half hour and then when we went upstairs (I was looking for more angles) we found that we’d just missed another load of amazing ones! dude. was my first favourite, although I ended up with about half the quilt as my favourite in the end.

I think that’s what struck me the most when I was there, this absolutely huge quilt, full of so many different wonderful messages and memories. If I could stitch, I think I would’ve liked to have done one like dude. Sara, you’re one of the few people I know that still says dude and I think I associate it with you just as much as I do the blog!

For me that’s a happy thought and a sad thought. If I’m honest, I don’t read the blog as much as I used to. When I think of the blog I think of the fantastic stories I read when Rosie first told me about the blog one night in first year (2011). (I’m paraphrasing but) She described it as an embarrassingly great selection of stories from home that she looked at whenever she felt homesick or upset. A few months later I was trusted with the URL, read a few stories (Johnny English cave story remains a firm favourite) and signed up for emails much to Rosie’s dismay! I was experiencing the more entertaining part of the life of the dude in real time now, but I never met the dude, so I associate dude. with you and the blog. Even when I read the stories again now I’ll hear the TO FANCY OR NOT TO FANCY? THAT IS THE QUESTION in Tom’s voice (it does sound like something he’d say). I’ve never heard Connor’s voice, I don’t know what it sounds like.

But then again that’s something I find strangely wonderful. Having been around so much since his death, heard so many stories about what a caring, kind and funny young man he was (sometimes I’ll even work them into the conversation to get Rosie to re-tell them, sshh!) and reading them myself before this all happened I feel like I know him despite all this. I think that’s testament to all of you and I’m sure many of the people who contributed to the quilt or to #JusticeforLB or any of this without ever meeting Connor, just like me, feel the same.

I often think about how I nearly met Connor. If I’d been friends with Rosie just a few months earlier in first year, maybe even a few weeks earlier then I may have come down with Ceri and the other Manchester lot and met him during Easter 2012. Later on Saturday Ceri was telling me about how when she’d met him that Easter he was mostly watching videos of trucks on youtube and listening to techno music, from what I know I’d say she had a pretty classic experience of Connor, an experience she described as pretty cool. I’d say she was probably right.

But then I think about how that thought process is utterly ridiculous.

I should have met Connor in August 2013 when I was going to visit Rosie.

When I brought you lemon cake on the 8th of July 2013, he should have had a slice, or ten.

I should know what he sounds like.

I should be reading hilarious stories that come into my inbox every few weeks.

I should have my own stories to tell other people.

This should never have happened.

When we first saw the quilt Ceri pointed out the teardrop with HOWL written in it, she told me how whenever she sees a mydaftlife post with a howl caption, she feels compelled to read it. When we went upstairs Ceri saw a chalkboard supposed to be a discussion board about whether or not Nigel Farage and other politicians have right to a private life. Having seen the quilt she felt compelled to write #JUSTICEFORLB all over it instead.

Chalkboard1

I saw the quilt and felt compelled to write Fuck Southern Health.

Chalkboard2

Making LB’s Justice Quilt #JusticeforLB

We’ve a guest post today from Janet Read to coincide with the launching of the amazing quilt that emerged from #107days.

I’ve just seen a photograph on Twitter of George Julian taking LB’s Justice Quilt to the Lancaster conference where it will see the light of day in public for the very first time. If you were travelling north by train today and saw someone carrying a very large multi-coloured sausage, it was probably George.

Quilt_train

This reminded me that I’d better get a move-on with the post I promised Sara I’d write about the making of the quilt. I started it the other day but I was feeling a bit inhibited and it all turned out rather stodgy and boring. And the quilt (and the process of making it) is about as far from stodgy and boring as it’s possible to get.

The inhibition came from feeling that it’s hard to write honestly about something I’d had a hand in making, without fretting about looking as if I’m blowing my own trumpet. The thing is, there’s no getting away from the fact that I think the quilt is bloody marvelous and so do the other makers, Janis Firminger, Margaret Taylor and Jean Draper. It ‘s everything we hoped it would be and much, much more besides. It’s given us immense joy every time we’ve worked on it, looked at it and talked about it. We’ve been incredibly moved by it, too. But of course, the whole point is that it wasn’t really down to us at all. The main reason for its magic is that a whole bunch of you people who care about what happened to Connor and who want to change things for other dudes, rose to the occasion and set to. We said that we wanted to make something that reflected the campaign and its mood and energy. Well, you outsider artists sure didn’t need telling twice! The pieces that you sent us to work with were more arresting, inventive, moving, angry, irreverent, colourful, thoughtful, beautiful, affectionate and informed than anything we could have hoped for. They came embroidered, appliqued, crayoned, painted, felt-tipped, crocheted and knitted. They sometimes arrived with apologetic notes saying you hoped they were good enough. Good enough? Yes! Yes! Yes! More than! Every single one!

At the beginning, only Janis, Margaret and I were involved. We consulted Sara and George, did the post, asked people to take part and waited. Would anyone respond and if so, how many? We had no idea. We told ourselves that small could be beautiful but to be honest, ‘LB’s Justice Tea towel’ might have felt a bit of an anti-climax. On the other hand, where would Sara keep something the size of a football pitch? Then the contributions started coming in thick and fast– the patches and the gifts of thread and fabrics. I got the best job of opening the post and keeping tabs on what we’d had. It was so exciting. Apart from the individual contributions, we had the workshop at Cardiff Law School which Lucy Series wrote about on 107 days and the Messy Church in Kent organized by Beckie Whelton, also recorded on 107 days. I didn’t know what Messy Church was but I do now. I can tell you it sounds a whole lot more fun than the Sunday School I went to!

Shortly into the project, Janis, Marg and I found ourselves needing some help. Confession time now: we three are stitchers but we’d never made a quilt before in our lives! Sorry. I can almost hear a sharp intake of breath from all the proper quilters out there because they know better than most that The Great British Bake Off doesn’t have the monopoly on THE TECHNICAL CHALLENGE. So, we asked for a leg up from my big sister Jean whose day job is art textiles and who knows a thing or two about quilting and all sorts of other stuff involving fabric and thread. She loved the idea of the project and was busy stitching patches. After being bombarded daily with beginners’ quilting questions, she offered to join in.

One of the best times (and there were many good ones) was the very first time that we laid out all the patches in the same place. When we stood in front of this vivid mass covering my dining room floor, it took our breath away. We knew quite simply that we had something very special to work with.

And that’s about the top and bottom of it really. The end of May was close of play for contributions but of course, they came in for a while after that. What else would we have expected from a load of stitching rule-breakers? The patches came in all shapes and sizes, too, and were probably the better for it -though I did threaten at one stage, to stitch a patch that said’ Social justice activists can’t measure 4X6 inches’. When all the patches were in, we put the rather complicated jigsaw together ,and spent the summer machining, quilting and hand-stitching The People’s Art Work , as we sometimes called it. The final stitch went in a week ago.

JusticeQuiltfull

I don’t know how many patches there are because every time I started counting, I was distracted by something that I’d not looked at properly before. Living with the quilt has been a pleasure, and running our hands and eyes over your lovely work for the past three months has been an unforgettable experience. We’ve handled it nearly every day and that means that scarcely a day has gone by without our thoughts turning to Connor, his family and the other dudes. We’ve talked about them a lot too. We hope that the quilt will have the same effect on other people when they stand in front of it. Someone asked me last week when we were doing another one and the reply was that we’re not. LB’s Justice Quilt is a one-off for Connor, the dudes, Sara and her family.

Our heartfelt thanks, then, to all you patch-makers, protest stitchers and outsider artists. It ‘s truly brilliant that you created so many strong and beautiful fragments of resistance in response to something so terrible. What gifts you gave!

We couldn’t publish this post without acknowledging ourselves the absolutely phenomenal beauty of the Justice Quilt. There is so much love stitched into the quilt, which somehow perfectly captures the crowdsourced magic of the #107days campaign. The quilt would have certainly been a pile of patches if it wasn’t for the extreme dedication of Janet, Janis, Margaret and Jean, and we will be forever grateful to them for their work.

The quilt is officially being ‘launched’ at the #CEDR14 conference today (10 September 2014) and we will be looking for a number of venues to host the quilt over the next year. Given how delicate it is we don’t want it travelling every week so we’ll be looking for venues that can display the quilt, while also protecting it. If you have contacts in venues, organisations, galleries etc then feel free to leave a comment, drop us a tweet @JusticeforLB or send us an email with your suggestion and we’ll collect them in and make a touring plan. We are really keen that as many people get to see the quilt as possible, so we’ll keep you all posted on these plans.

Thank you to all our patchers, your contribution to bringing JusticeforLB and all young dudes is stitched into the fabric of this campaign.

Day 101: An animated, poetic call to act #107days

Day 101 is another shared day, this time between David and Trish.

This is what David had to say about why he chose to support #107days and #JusticeforLB:

When I first enquired about sponsoring one of the 107 days I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do, I just felt compelled to do something. Having agreed to prepare a prezi with Sara for her slot at the 3 Lives Event earlier in the year and then meeting her and listening to her speak, for me this was a no brainer. Why? Well, because aside from the sheer frustration I felt at hearing Connor’s story,  seeing Sara hold it together whilst presenting in order to get everyone to sit up and recognise that this actually happened. I was also very embarrassed. Embarrassed by the fact this could happen, embarrassed that this has happened so many times before, and embarrassed that I am part of system that has let Connor and so many others down so badly.

When I think about my own career and what has driven me to want to do more, make change and challenge this very system; I cite three core experiences all of which resulted in the self same feelings of embarrassment, annoyance and at times times anger. I offer these here, for the reader to contemplate, digest and act; yes to act. Just in the same way you have taken action to arrive here at this very site, to read these very words and to want to make change and denounce any form of abuse, neglect or infringement of rights.

So, number one. In 1987 whilst working in a residential care setting I accompanied four people with learning disabilities to visit a local pub. Sadly, no sooner had we purchased our drinks, the manager beckoned me over and said ‘no disrespect mate, but I don’t want them in my pub’. I had to go back to the people I was with and ask them to ‘drink up’. We were made to leave and all eyes across the pub tracked our departure as we were ushered out. The next day I complained to the brewery and went to the local press. The community revolted and the landlords reputation was besmirched. Justice.

In 1991 whilst undertaking my nurse training, I observed two members of staff assault one of the residents of the home where I was on placement. I wont go into the details, but lets just say this happened out of the blue. On their part, I never really got to know if this was some random act of boredom, a show of their status or prowess, a reminder to the people who lived there to ‘know their place’ or simply ‘a game’ like the ones staff described  during the panorama footage. When I spontaneously reacted during this event, I was taken by the two staff members (interestingly both of them were ex military personnel) and dragged outside in the snow and into a closed courtyard. I was given a clear message that I ‘better not mention this anything to anyone, or else’. The next day I made a formal complaint and reported what I saw. An investigation ensued and the two thugs were later dismissed. Justice.

In 2001 I supported a gentleman with learning disabilities to attend a hospital appointment in relation to the chronic ulcers on his feet and legs. During the course of the appointment the Consultant, without asking, led seven medical students into the cubicle and proceeded to talk to his protégé’s about this gentleman’s ulcers and his ‘mental subnormality’, bestowing on them, what he evidently thought was of scientific value. The gentleman, as the patient, dealt with this by pulling the jumper he was wearing over his head. The Consultant quite oblivious to this continued his oration, going on to make the announcement that the ‘best thing for this patient is to amputate his left leg’. I was incensed, outraged and again, embarrassed. The next day I wrote a letter of complaint to the Chief Executive of the Acute Trust, but instead of merely relaying my annoyance, I proposed a solution. This was gratefully accepted by the Chief Executive and as a result, my colleagues and I developed a package of awareness training for both existing hospital staff as well as medical students.

David feels strongly that sometimes we all need to act. In fact I’d go as far as to say (personal view) that by not acting, we are all endorsing this dire level of status quo, therefore we should not just feel embarrassed, but also culpable. David chose to act in Connor’s name too. He has crafted a very personal interpretation of what happened to LB. It has taken many hours of time, and much love and persistence (whatever you’re imagining double it, including one version becoming corrupted hours from finishing requiring him to start again). David could have very reasonably quit at that point but he persisted and produced this for you all to enjoy, and act on:

Sometimes assertive action is required, it’s a response to these kind of episodes, its not often the way you would have wanted things to go, but instinctively you feel you just have to do something, make change, denounce abuse or uphold peoples rights. The animation is my interpretation of Connor’s journey through the Assessment and Treatment unit. #JusticeforLB? I hope so.

David’s animation is accompanied today by another creative endeavour to act as a prompt for thought, reflection and action. Trish had this to say about why she is supporting #JusticeforLB and #107days:

I am shocked and horrified by LB’s death and by the 1200 premature deaths per year of learning disabled people in our care, that’s our care, public provision. And by the determination not to look too closely into those deaths (no review board to help find and fight underlying causes). Including the death before us – missing brain tissue? Optional pathology guidelines?

We need to speak, don’t we?

Trish has penned this poem in memory of LB:

Learning Disability 2013: in memory of LB

A child, my father, playing in the fields,

needed the bathroom in his old friend’s house,

took a wrong turn – opened another door –

came face to face with a much older child

he’d never seen before.

He is long gone, I don’t know what they said.

 

Bewilderment and awe played on his face.

How many families hid a child? he asked,

not spoken of, perhaps the doctor knew,

perhaps the priest. Why silence, was it shame?

more likely fear – there wasn’t any help.

Except the institution.

 

DON’T

say it couldn’t happen here!

Don’t say we offer treatment, pay for care,

When all too often there is no-one there,

urgent requirements must wait weeks or months,

and information’s scattered on the wind!

Stop the bus!

You have the wrong driver –

roaring us back to the horrors of the past!

 

Skilled carers with the families could ensure

the bus is going in the right direction.

To a place of joy, space and old buses,

to the farm for days of work and giving,

home to parents, brothers, sisters, rest.

Day 66: Woodcrafting buses #107days

Day 66 was adopted by Sharon, Heather and the Oxford Woodcraft Folk. They shared LB’s story with their young people on an evening a week or so ago, this is what they had to say:

Woodcraft folk is the cooperative children and young people’s movement. In Oxford there are grass roots groups for young people age 3-18+. We are committed to promoting inclusion, respect and social justice.

The young people of East Wind Pioneers (aged 10-13) were moved by the #JusticeforLB campaign and were able to show their compassion and support through these drawings. We hope you enjoy them!

It has been particularly heartening to see the contributions, support and compassion of young people in today’s activity, and yesterday’s from Ohio, and in several other days. We live in hope that they will grow into young adults who live in, and insist on a more fair and equal society, but we really shouldn’t wait and leave it all to them, we need to keep improving it now.

Day66

Day 63: An EP for LB #107days

Day 63 was adopted by Adam, a colleague of Sara’s. This is what he had to say about getting involved and supporting #107days and #JusticeforLB.

We decided to dust off our instruments and create these versions of some of Connor’s favourite songs to raise some money and awareness for the campaign, but also to celebrate the life (and good musical taste!), of one cool dude.

When I first met Connor it was at a wedding. He immediately made it very clear that he wanted two things from the day… to chat up girls

And to get some Ice cream.

A cool dude indeed.

EP for LB

Adam got together with his friend Marc, to produce something we think you’ll agree is rather special in LB’s memory. Adam and Marc recorded a covers EP featuring four of LB’s favourite tracks: National Express by Divine Comedy (of course), Dexy’s midnight runners by Geno, Here comes the sun by The Beetles, and Feel good inc by Gorillaz. Also included on the EP is the See Me! track recorded by First Note on Day 26 of #107days.

If you click on the tracks above you can go listen to the track and watch the awesome accompanying videos that Adam put together on YouTube – they are well worth a watch having been compiled with more photos of LB and also of some of the activity of the #107days campaign so far. Even more excitingly the EP is live on iTunes and available to purchase for the paltry sum of 79p per track or £3.95 for the entire thing, all profits to LB’s Fighting Fund, so please do get downloading and sharing.

Day 47: Indignation and initiative vs ‘institutional inertia’ #107days

We are now on Day 47 of #107days, rapidly approaching our half way point, and we are delighted to share with you a post written by Saba Salman, who adopted today. Saba wrote the initial piece on LB’s death and #JusticeforLB, published in the Guardian on Day 0. It has been phenomenally heartening to see an independent person’s take on our campaign, but we’ll leave you to judge that for yourselves:

Imagine if you had £3,500 a week to run a campaign, consider the awareness you could raise with even a tenth of that.

Now multiply £3,500 – the average weekly cost of a place at an assessment and treatment unit (ATU) – by 3,250 – the number of learning disabled people in such units. That’s an indicator of the costs involved in using controversial Winterbourne View-style settings.

Just over a year ago, 18-year-old Connor Sparrowhawk, aka Laughing Boy or LB, was admitted to a Southern Health NHS Trust ATU where he died an avoidable death 107 days later.

In contrast to the vast amounts spent by commissioners on places like the one where LB died, the #JusticeforLB campaign sparked by his death is ‘funded’ solely by goodwill. No PR team crafting on-message missives, no policy wonks collating information, no consultants advising on publicity.

#107days of action began on Wednesday 19 March, a year to the day Connor went into Slade House, and continues until the first anniversary of his death, Friday 4 July 2014. Half the aim – and I’ll come to the other half at the end of this post – is to “inspire, collate and share positive actions being taken to support #JusticeforLB and all young dudes”. The goal is to capture the “energy, support and outrage” ignited by LB’s death.

Day47

This post, around halfway through #107days and written from the perspective of having reported on #JusticeforLB at the start of the campaign, looks at what’s been achieved so far.

I’m not describing the “abject failure” of progress to rid social care of Winterbourne-style settings – care minister Norman Lamb’s words – the sort of apologies for care where compassion is often as absent as any actual assessment or treatment. Nor do I write about the errors at Southern (you can read here about the enforcement action from health regulators after a string of failures). I want to explain, from my interested observer’s standpoint, the impact of #107days and what might set it apart from other awareness drives.

It’s a timely moment to do this. It is now three years since Winterbourne, less than a week after Panorama yet again highlighted abuse and neglect in care homes and a few days since new information on the use of restraint and medication for people in units like LB’s. The campaign reflects not only the importance of #JusticeforLB, but also an unmet need to finally change attitudes towards vulnerable people (and it’s not as if we don’t know what “good care” looks like).

There is a palpable sense that the #107days campaign is different. Talking to journalists, families, activists, academics, bloggers and social care providers, the word “campaign” doesn’t adequately define #107days. It’s an, organic, evolving movement for change, a collaborative wave of effort involving a remarkably diverse range of folk including families, carers, people with learning disabilities, advocates, academics and learning disability nurses.

It’s worth noting the campaign’s global reach. LB’s bus postcard has been pictured all over the UK and as far away as Canada, America, Ireland, France, Majorca and São Paulo. LB has touched a bus driver in Vancouver and brownies in New Zealand.

Because of the blog run by Connor’s mother Sara Ryan (launched long before his death), LB and his family are not mere statistics in a report or anonymised case study “victims” in yet another care scandal. Instead we have Connor: a son, brother, nephew, friend, schoolmate, neighbour – and much more – deprived of his potential. We forget neither his face and personality nor the honest grief of a family facing “a black hole of unspeakable and immeasurable and incomprehensible pain”.

Yet while anger and angst has sparked and continues to fan #107days, the overwhelming atmosphere is optimistic. There is the sense that outrage, can should and will force action (and it’s worth mentioning, as #JusticeforLB supporters have stressed, exposing bad care begs a focus on good care – lest we forget and tar all professional carers with the same apathetic brush).

Both in its irreverent attitude and wide-ranging activity, this is no orthodox campaign. It is human and accessible because of its eclectic and inclusive nature (see, for example, Change People’s easy read version of the report into Connor’s death). And at the heart of the campaign lie concrete demands. In its bottom-up, social media-driven, grassroots approach and dogged determination, #107days has a hint of the Spartacus campaign against welfare cuts (Spartacus activist Bendy Girl is supporting #JusticeforLB through her work with the newly formed People First England).

As for impact so far, daily blogposts have attracted over 25,000 hits with visitors from 63 countries. There have been 7,000 or so tweets (which pre-date #107days) 1,380 followers, the #justiceforLB hashtag has been used more than 3,560 times and the #107days hashtag more than 2,000 times in the last month (thanks to George Julian for the number crunching). So far, the total amount raised for Connor’s family’s legal bills is around £10,000.

I can’t list each #107day but suffice it to say that the exhaustive activities and analysis so far include creative and sporting achievements highlighting the campaign as well as education-based events (or as Sara described progress on only Day 6 of #107: “Tiny, big, colourful, grey, staid, chunky, smooth, uncomfortable, funny, powerful, mundane, everyday, extraordinary, awkward, shocking, fun, definitely not fun, political, politically incorrect, simple, random, harrowing, personal, in your face, committed, joyful, loud, almost forgettable, colourful and whatever events”).

Along with blogs, beach art and buses in Connor’s name, there’s an LB truck, the tale of two villages’ awareness-raising, a hair-raising homage, autobiographical posts about autism, siblings’ stories, sporting activities, and lectures. And patchwork, postcards, pencil cases, paddling (by a 15-year-old rower) and petition-style letters (open to signatures).

It’s worth noting that while learning disability should be but isn’t a mainstream media issue, there have been pieces in the Guardian and Daily Telegraph plus important coverage on Radio 4 , BBC Oxford and in the specialist pressBBC Radio Oxford‘s Phil Gayle and team have followed developments relentlessly and Sting Radio produced an uplifting show on the first day of the campaign. While some of this coverage pre-dates #107days, it reflects how media attention has been captured solely thanks to the efforts of Connor’s family and supporters (links to other coverage are on Sara’s blog).

As for reaching the key figures who could help make the changes #107days wants, the campaign has had contact with health secretary Jeremy Hunt, care minister Norman Lamb, chief inspector of adult social care Andrea Sutcliffe and Winterbourne improvement programme director Bill Mumford, care provider organisations and staff.

Earlier, I described the first half of #107days’ aims to “inspire, collate and share positive actions” and capture the “energy, support and outrage” ignited by LB’s death. Based on the efforts and impact so far, and the campaign is clearly on track.

But the remaining target – to “ensure that lasting changes and improvements are made” – is more elusive, largely because it lies outside the responsibility and remit of members of the #107days campaign.

Contrast the collective nerve, verve, indignation and initiative of the last 46 days to what Norman Lamb calls the historic “institutional inertia” of NHS and local government commissioners, a cultural apathy undermining plans to move more people out of Winterbourne-style units.

The existence and continued use of ATUs might be a challenging and seemingly intractable problem. But that’s not good enough a reason for commissioners – and those who run and govern such places – to ignore the problem. There are good intentions coming from some in authority; people just need to put their collective muscles where their mouths are. Doing that sometime during the remaining 60 days of the campaign for Connor seems like the right thing to do.