Sixteen years ago, my husband’s brother James took his own life. He was 21 years old, a student at Newcastle University, and as he grew up he never showed any signs of depression or mental illness. He was fun, sporty, kind and popular. Many have called him a golden boy.
After a minor surgery in December 2006, he sought help for anxiety and suicidal thoughts. Later that week, on his way back to Newcastle, James visited the NHS Walk-in Center and then mentioned A&E as a low priority.
The immediate treatment he needed was either misunderstood or simply unavailable. And yet, government statistics at the time – as they still do – show that suicide is the leading cause of death among men under the age of 50, affecting three times as many men as women. (Recent figures show that there were a total of 5,224 suicides in England and Wales in 2020, of which 3,925 were men.)
James left A&E without noticing. A letter was sent from the NHS to his family’s GP in the wrong postcode from the second class post office. By the time he arrived, James had already taken his own life, ten days after the operation.
This tragedy turned the family upside down and they promised to do something to save others from it.
It became very clear to James’ parents, Nick and Claire, that their son’s death could be avoided. Encouraged by grief, they set up a charity called James Place, which supports, counsels and helps men with suicidal ideation with personal treatment.
When I visit James Place in central Liverpool, Cressida Bonas (right) writes, I see first-hand the impact of this important work. I meet Derek Wilson (left) and his family. Her story shows how philanthropy prevents suicide and how harm harms the family.
The first center was opened in 2018 by Prince William in Liverpool. Last month, he visited a second facility built on the first model opened in East London.
Claire, who has worked tirelessly on the project, says: ‘I wondered what kind of intervention and service could have helped James. I researched the existing non-clinical models in both physical and mental health, took the best elements from each of them and formulated the idea of a non-clinical quiet place, but managed by fully trained physicians who could offer the best possible treatment. ‘
Fully philanthropicly funded, James Place is a non-residential area where anyone over the age of 18 can commit suicide. CEO Ellen O’Donoghue says she sees “men from all walks of life, and we know that the experience of suicide crisis is global.”
To date, the charity has worked with more than 800 men, saving many lives.
When I visit James Place in central Liverpool, I see first-hand the impact of this important work. I meet Derek Wilson and his family. Her story shows how philanthropy prevents suicide and how harm harms the family.
Photo: Cressida Bonas with her husband Harry Wentworth-Stanley, both 33
Born and raised in Liverpool, Derek, 58, is “a big supporter of Liverpool,” he told me with a smile. I was amazed at how much fun he had. After serving 35 years on Liverpool City Council, he was suspended for 12 months after making a minor mistake in the new building regulations. It was months before the covid began to spread through the UK.
The suspension was “triggered,” says Derek. A sense of shame touched him and he turned around: ‘I thought,’ Where can I get a job? I’m useless . . I wish I could die. ‘
Fear that he would no longer be able to provide for his family played a major role in Derek’s crisis.
Sixteen years ago, my husband’s brother, James (pictured), took his own life. He was 21 years old, a student at Newcastle University, and growing up he never showed any obvious symptoms of depression or mental illness.
Dan Brecken, a psychiatrist and head of James Place London, says: “There are many complex reasons why men come to us in a crisis of suicide and it often has to do with what they and society expect from them as men.”
Although Derek came from a loving family, his father was an alcoholic and sometimes violent. “I was not old enough to help my mother,” she says. He looks back and he could have done more to intervene.
Then his sister married someone like that (he later died of cancer).
“I tried to save him, but I couldn’t,” he says. For years, Derek had no outlet for guilt and anger. ‘It’s like a pressure cooker and if you turn off the pressure cooker it will ring, and that’s what happened to me.’
Derek’s daughter, Sophie, 24, tells me that her father is very much back. She says, ‘Being the soul and spirit of the party, I don’t want to sit next to anyone all of a sudden. “And his anger began to subside.”
Sophie described the ‘black cloud’ as it grew darker and darker. . . He was empty, talking to her, it was as if he weren’t there. ‘
Derek’s wife, Sarah, 47, who works for the City Council, says there has never been a silence between them until she is suspended. When he tried to tell her this, ‘the obstacles increased,’ she says.
Derek didn’t think he needed help, but he stopped talking to his friends and slowly closed the world. None of her family understood the seriousness of her fall, nor did they anticipate what would happen one day in October 2019.
Derek says, ‘It started out as a normal day with some DIY. But after finding a new wardrobe to fit in the room, he lost his temper and threw himself down the stairs. She was sad to see her son, Liam, 15, watching. ‘I went out to calm down and got into my van,’ he says.
Derek Wilson, 58, daughter Sophie, 23, at James Place, a support center for male suicide, in Liverpool, Merseyside.
Derek did not plan to kill himself, but after leaving home, the thought came to his mind: ‘I went to a well-known area. An area where no one goes. ‘
But, at the turn of fate, a little girl and her father walked beside her. The man looked at her with the expression: ‘I just saw right?’ As they leave, ‘the little girl smiles at me,’ says Derek.
What he would have seen, what he would have done if he had planned. Now, when Derek sees someone looking down, he will ask them how they are and if they are OK.
Derek stayed in the van for two or three hours. During this time, Sarah texted her whereabouts because she had ‘something wrong’. The message he got back was: ‘I’m really sorry for today, it’s like a switch in my mind. I love you, tell the boys I love them, but I can’t go on like this. ‘
Frightened and distrustful, Sarah called the police. She then went to look for all the places she thought she could be, but she couldn’t find them.
Finally, Derek decided to go home: ‘I thought I’d come back later and do it after dark.’
But when he reached home, a police car was parked outside. He fell to the ground inside and said: ‘I have to be taken somewhere.’
A major problem with mental health is that people often do not know how to access appropriate services: ‘We did not. . . Where do you start, where do you go? ‘ Sarah says.
Police contacted the NHS Mental Health Service, which sent a doctor home. “Unfortunately, there is a waiting list for treatment,” she said.
‘James’ Place exists to meet the immediate care needs of men in suicidal crisis, and this is one of the reasons we work closely and more extensively with partners in the NHS,’ says Ellen O’Donoghue.
“This means we can build reference routes to ensure that men can reach us quickly and safely when they need help.”
If my husband’s family has ever been able to save a life in James’ name, it would be even more powerful to know that his death was not in vain.
Derek was lucky that Sarah’s friend gave him the number for James Place. He was doubly fortunate enough to support his immediate family. He admits: “If I hadn’t gotten help from James Place, I would have gone out the next day and committed suicide.” He describes walking in the center as ‘relief’.
The usual intervention is six to eight intensive therapy sessions every two months. Derek was seen for eight weeks.
He says he was helped a lot by James Place’s “Your Cards on the Table” cards. Created by Jane Boland, Head of Clinical Leadership and Liverpool Center, they are used to help structure therapy.
The cards have phrases like ‘I’m stuck’. Jane explains that it allows men to admit some terrible things they can’t tell anyone.
She says, ‘For many men this will be the first time they can understand the relationship between their thoughts, feelings and actions.
Thanks to James Place, Derek is now able to understand how he got to that bottom point. “It’s mostly from past events,” he says.
During the construction of his new building, he asked his co-workers, “Are you all right?” And he always asks twice. Seeing her at her lowest point, Sophie tells me: ‘She’s a completely different person now and she loves life.’
And how has Sarah and Sophie changed? Sophie smiles. ‘I am enjoying life. . . Every day is a bonus. ‘ “Every town needs a place for James,” she says emphatically.
It is planned to open centers in three more cities within the next three years.
Her heart touches me as Sarah tells me: ‘From the depths of this place, I know James’ why I still have a husband, and why my children are still fathers. It saved not only Derek’s life but also ours. ‘
And knowing that my husband’s family has always felt that James’s name could save a life is even more powerful, which means his death was not in vain.
To learn more about James Place, including how to make a referral, visit jamesplace.org.uk.
You can also get help by texting the word ‘shout’ to the Samaritans (call 116 123) or the shout crisis line at 85258. Call 999 Emergency or seek help from A&E.