Published by The i Paper (16th March, 2026)
Let me tell you about a young man called Sam. He lives in Manchester – although exists might be a better word, since he never leaves his bed in a darkened room at his mother’s home. Once, he was a bright boy who loved going to the gym and planned to study nutrition science at university. He is also autistic. And his sad story – which is far from unique – shows what happens when citizens are allowed to slip through the cracks of society, wasting their lives, along with taxpayers’ money and any possible contributions to the wider community.
Sam’s tragic saga has political resonance given the Government’s proposed reform of the special educational needs (SEND) system, the constant claims about “overdiagnosis” of neurodivergence, the desire to curb disability benefit payments, and the rising number of Neets – young people who are not in education, employment or training. Westminster is desperate to cut all these costs. Meanwhile, autistic people have been caught in the crossfire of culture wars, accused of “hypersensitivity” if diagnosed in their teens and targeted for attack by the populist right.
Few critics bother to look beyond the headlines at the sordid reality for citizens failed by the state. And at the root of so many problems lie the corrosive failures of our Cinderella social care system. Earlier this month, Baroness Louise Casey – chairing the 22nd major review into this sector in three decades, as reform is delayed once again – described “a system which means some needs are barely met at all, and others are met late and in piecemeal and random ways.”
Sam’s case underlines this diagnosis. He was a contented child at primary school, then passed his 11+ exam for entry to a grammar school. But at the bigger school, he struggled with the bustle and new social dynamics – a common occurrence for autistic kids, especially as puberty kicks in to fuel their confusion and any sense of isolation. He grew morose as he misread social cues and was picked on by other pupils and allegedly teachers, hiding his misery from his family. After one bullying incident, aged 15, when his mother said another boy held him in a headlock, he was the one excluded. So he was stuck at home for a year, starting a grim spiral of decline.
Many autistic children thrive if provided with the right environment, some becoming high achievers. Sam passed some GCSEs and his driving test on his first attempt. Yet the Government’s SEND reforms are driven by their zeal for inclusion, which is a noble ideal but requires far more resourcing than proposed and does not suit every child. A pupil with serious learning disabilities might thrive in a mainstream school, for instance, while another with autism struggles to handle the hubbub – but can still end up at Oxford University with suitable support and surroundings.
Sam’s story illustrates the impact of inadequate support. Kicked out of school, he started to show symptoms of anxiety, often withdrawing to his bedroom. At the age of 16, he was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. Over the subsequent 13 years, his life has withered away as his mental and physical health collapsed, becoming more isolated and losing life skills along with confidence as he hid from the world. There have been flickers of recovery, bouts of therapy, but also times when he stopped eating, shedding alarming weight and muscle mass, or talked of suicide to end his suffering. “My son’s life has been diminishing in front of my eyes,” said his mother, Sara, a scientist who works for the NHS. “It is painful to witness.”
Scared her reclusive son might die, Sara sought help through legal means. A judge, ruling that Sam did not have the capacity to make decisions about his residence and care, ordered the local authority to find suitable supported living. “The public bodies seem always so defensive over accepting his needs – it took legal action to compel them to help,” said Sara. Still, it took another year to find a placement – and initially Sam was the sole resident. “He was promised a package of specialist support, but it just involved two foreign-born agency care workers knocking on the door to ask if he was alright,” said his mother. So her son withdrew again behind the locked door of his flat and the placement failed in six weeks. Sam returned home, back to bed and his dispiriting cycle of decline.
There is another effort to find him the right supported living, but no suitable places have been found. “Autistic adults without intellectual disability are left to fall through every gap in the system and parents have to pick up the pieces,” said Sara, whose marriage fell apart under the pressure. She says she knows 10 more families in her patch of Manchester – and many more across the whole city – enduring similar struggles. Even when local authorities do find homes for supported living, they are often in cheaper, run-down areas, exposing vulnerable people to abuse and violence. This was seen most starkly with the murder in 2016 of Christopher Laskaris, another reclusive autistic man who was exploited and then stabbed to death aged 24 after a convicted drug dealer accessed his council flat in a tactic called “cuckooing.”
Sara contacted me through Fiona Laskaris, the victim’s mother, who is haunted a decade later by her efforts to seek help, only to be denied by laws on capacity that blocked intervention. Now this bereaved woman is campaigning to require capacity assessments if any credible doubts are raised, including by family members, and the Government last month promised to act. But these two awful cases are just the tip of a disturbing iceberg, exposing profound problems hidden away from society’s gaze while bickering politicians postpone taking tough decisions to find long-term solutions. “Fiona and I share painfully similar experiences as mothers fighting for appropriate housing, care and support for our autistic sons,” said Sara. Yet ultimately, we all pay the heavy price of these tragically wasted lives.
* Sam and Sara’s names have been changed due to legal restrictions.