CW: Mental Illness, Restraint, Death, and Institutionalization
Last night, I watched the 1983 documentary Children of Darkness. The documentary was a glimpse into the past. However, parts of it felt painfully and scarily immediate.
The documentary takes viewers inside places like Eastern State School, the Elan School in Pennsylvania, Sagamore Children’s Psychiatric Center on Long Island, and South Beach Psychiatric Hospital. They are all different locations, with different staff. Children who were already suffering were placed in settings that failed to help them. Some staff members who truly cared admitted they couldn’t fix what was broken. They could only help manage their pain.
Brian’s story was haunting. He was a teenager with schizophrenia who barely communicated. His illness made speech feel like shouting through a locked door. His face portrays everything his words did not: fear, anger, confusion, longing. His dad’s gaze is that of a loving dad who cherishes those weekend visits where he gets to be “Dad” rather than just an advocate or last line of defense, which are precious. Then his dad talks about something disabled people and their families think about, often silently. He’s terrified of what will happen to Brian when he’s gone.
That fear hasn’t faded. I know it because I carry my own version of it. I’m 26, living with cerebral palsy, and I rely on Personal Care Assistant (PCA) services to live independently in my community. In April, my nighttime PCA hours were abruptly cut by MassHealth. There was no warning, no explanation, the hours were just gone.
What followed was two months of paperwork, appeals, phone calls, and repeatedly explaining that overnight care isn’t a luxury. It’s life-saving. It was soul-crushing and dehumanizing. In those moments, I felt the same helplessness I saw in Brian’s father, the terrifying prospect of being left alone within a system that doesn’t care about people.
Then there’s South Beach. The documentary tells the stories of Anthony, Judy, and 17-year-old Andrew Zamora. Andrew was medicated with Thorazine despite his mother’s warnings about adverse reactions. He started moaning, biting his tongue, and was overheating. Instead of stopping the medication, the staff restrained him. He died shortly after.
Judy was put in a straitjacket, heavily drugged, and left like that until her death. Anthony’s death is also surrounded by unanswered questions and silence. Their families carry grief, confusion, and the horrific knowledge that their loved ones died in a place where they should have been safe.
This all feels even heavier now that, in June, the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel said the federal government has overstepped with the Olmstead decision. They say the DOJ’s Civil Rights Division pushed states too aggressively toward deinstitutionalization Hearing that sent chills through me because when the federal government pulls back, states follow. And when states follow, people like me lose the support that keeps us safe at home.
Now, in 2026, we’re cutting Home and Community-Based Services (HCBS). States are cutting the very funding for the programs that allow disabled adults to live in their communities. They are currently cutting the services that help families keep their children at home. They are chipping away at the lifelines that prevent people from ending up in institutions.
Over four decades later, children still need help, and adults like me still need help. Parents still lie awake wondering what will happen to their children when they’re gone. Watching Children of Darkness today isn’t just revisiting history. It’s staring at a warning we still refuse to heed.
Sources:
Kotuk, Richard, and Ara Chekmayan, producers. Children of Darkness. YouTube, uploaded by Richard Kotuk Archives, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTCSfx47R1w. Accessed 7 Aug. 2026.
Lynch, Sarah N. “States Aren’t Required to Provide Community-Based Care for People with Disabilities, New DOJ Opinion Claims.” CBS News, 18 June 2026, https://www.cbsnews.com/news/doj-disability-opinion-community-care/