Adolescence: What went wrong for Jamie, and what can we do better?

Scrolling Netflix on the weekend, I stumbled across Adolescence. The trailer alone made me hesitate—did I really want to spend my evening watching something so heavy, something so deeply connected to my work? But curiosity won, and I pressed play.

For the next few hours, I was hooked—hanging onto every word, watching Jamie’s journey unfold, knowing where it was heading but still willing him to take a different path.

So, why am I spotlighting a TV series?

Because this is more than just a gripping drama. It’s deeply uncomfortable viewing. It’s a warning. Adolescence lays bare the challenges boys are facing today—what it means to be a young man searching for belonging, how easy it is to slip through the cracks, and how dismissiveness (even well-intentioned) can leave young people vulnerable to dangerous influences.

As I watched Jamie unravel, I kept coming back to one question: What could we have done differently?

Let’s talk about it.

(Reading on will include spoilers.)

Masculinity and belonging

As the truth about Jamie’s actions is slowly revealed, we also begin to see his unmet needs.

His descent into online incel culture isn’t just about misogyny—it’s about his search for validation, control, and connection. It’s about his growing frustration with the world around him, his inability to process rejection, and the absence of adults who truly see him.

Jamie spends most of his time alone in his room or aimlessly wandering with friends. Because he “seems okay” and “seems safe,” no one questions it. But that isolation makes him incredibly vulnerable to radicalisation.

What could have helped?

🔹 Proactive mentorship: Jamie was good at school, but we hear there were recent struggles. Why did no one step in? Where was the teacher, coach, or older peer who might have recognised his growing resentment and helped him navigate it?

🔹 Normalising emotional expression: Jamie doesn’t have the tools to name or process his emotions. Anger festers when we don’t know what to do with it. What if, early on, he’d been taught how to recognise his feelings, express them safely, and develop healthier coping strategies?

🔹 Engagement in a hobby: We learn that Jamie is artistic and spent hours drawing as a child. If that had been nurtured, he might have been part of an arts group or class—developing his strengths, pursuing his interests, and finding belonging with like-minded peers.

🔹 Promotion of healthier male role models: We need louder, more visible voices showing that strength isn’t about dominance—it’s about integrity, emotional intelligence, and self-awareness.

Positive and dismissive parenting isn’t enough

As the story unfolded, I found myself questioning—was Jamie really guilty?

Maybe they had the wrong kid?

Jamie is likeable. His parents, Eddie and Manda, are likeable. They care. So what went wrong?

Eddie and Manda love Jamie, but they don’t see him. They assume he’s fine because he doesn’t outwardly express distress. They set limits, but they don’t dig deeper. And in that space of assumption, outside influences step in to shape Jamie’s worldview.

What could have helped?

🔹 Checking in with real curiosity: Jamie’s parents ask the usual, “How was school?” questions, but they don’t notice his deepening isolation. He believes he’s ugly, he’s not good at anything- and he thinks it is normal to feel this way. He’s experiencing bullying and rejection. But they assume he’s fine. What if, instead, they had said, “You seem different lately—what’s going on?”

🔹 Modelling emotional vulnerability: Jamie believes his dad is “a normal amount of angry” because he doesn’t hit anyone—just destroys property. If Jamie had seen his parents openly regulate their emotions, manage stress, and navigate challenges, he would have had a healthier template for doing the same.

🔹 Deeper digital awareness: No adults in Jamie’s life seem aware of incel culture, the bullying happening online, or the content shaping his beliefs. If his parents had been more engaged in his digital world, they might have recognised the warning signs earlier.

The role of schools: where are the healthy adults?

“Every kid needs that one thing that makes them feel good about themselves.”

One of the hardest parts to watch was the absence of genuinely supportive adults in Jamie’s school life. Teachers are overwhelmed, uninformed about online radicalisation, or dismissive of students’ emotional realities.

The Principal disregards the need for grief counselling after the incident. School staff allow police interviews to happen in classrooms and first-aid offices, without guardians or pastoral support. I can tell you now when I was in school leadership, none of this would have happened.

Even the police comment on the school’s environment, noting that it “feels like a holding pen” rather than a place of learning. For a 13-year-old boy like Jamie, this means spending most of his week surrounded by adults who don’t see him, respect him, or care to know him.

What could have helped?

🔹 A wellbeing culture: Schools should be places where wellbeing is a priority—where staff are trained and supported to build healthy relationships with students, creating a climate of care.

🔹 Respectful relationship curriculum: If Jamie had been exposed to education around respectful relationships—beyond the basics of consent and “just be kind”—he might have developed a more nuanced understanding of emotions, boundaries, and gender dynamics. A curriculum that actively explores healthy masculinity, emotional intelligence, and digital literacy could have challenged the narratives he was absorbing online and given him healthier ways to navigate rejection and belonging.

🔹 Greater awareness of digital risk: The school staff are not up-to-date with online trends, risks and safety concerns. If teachers had understood Jamie’s withdrawal or noticed his growing resentment towards women, they could have provided support, helping him find safe ways to express his experiences.

🔹 Intentional focus on student belonging: It’s clear that most students (and teachers) in this school don’t feel a sense of belonging. If leadership had prioritised connection, students would have felt safer, staff would have been more engaged, and support after the incident would have been actual support—not police questioning grieving students for information.

Trauma-informed justice systems

I’m sure there were moments while watching Adolescence when you weren’t convinced Jamie was guilty. Maybe you saw his freckled face, his small build, his childlike voice cracking as he entered the police cells—and thought, Could he really have done this? The series does a brilliant job of showing us the human behind the crime.

So, at what point did you give up on him?

When you saw the facility where he was being held, did you think: This will be his pathway to healing? Did you believe that custody would lead to transformation—that Jamie would emerge one day as a safer, healthier version of himself? One who felt a sense of belonging in the community and could help others feel safe too?

Because that’s the goal, isn’t it? Or at least, it should be.

What could have helped?

🔹 Recognising Jamie’s age and life experience: Jamie isn’t an adult. His brain is still developing. His understanding of relationships, identity, and morality is still forming. A justice system that acknowledges this would prioritise rehabilitation over punishment.

🔹 Providing opportunities for repair and growth: What if, instead of being placed in a facility that reinforces shame and isolation, Jamie had access to therapy, education, mentorship, and restorative justice processes? What if his sentence wasn’t just about keeping him away from society, but actively helping him learn how to be in it—safely, meaningfully, and with accountability?

Because when we lock children away without a pathway forward, we’re not protecting society—we’re ensuring more harm down the track. The real question isn’t just What do we do with kids like Jamie? It’s How do we stop them from ever getting here in the first place?

So, what can we all do?

The tragedy of Adolescence is that Jamie’s story wasn’t inevitable. If someone—anyone—had intervened earlier, with curiosity and care, his path could have been different.

Jamie’s story is fictional. But the problem is very real.

It’s that old cliché: hurt people hurt people.

So how do we stop the hurt?

Help every kid find that one thing that makes them feel good about themselves.

Truly see each other.
Create safety.
Create belonging.
Create love.

Because the answer is never found in isolation.