Separated by a rail line and bleak stretch of the A407, the Stonebridge estate is less than a five-minute walk from its counterpart in Church Road.Yet for the hundreds of teenagers and young people who live on either of the estates in Brent, north-west London, visiting the other is not an option.
The area is claimed as territory by organised gangs such as Church Road’s CSB (Crime Scene Boyz) and the TOS (Thugs of Stonebridge), and rival factions from the two estates have committed tit-for-tat killings for more than 20 years.
Throughout that period, the threat of violence has slowly defined where young people can go. “They can’t mix despite being so close – it’s peer pressure. It’d be like: ‘Hold on, why are you hanging out with them?’” says Rico Finlayson, who was born on the Church End estate in Church Road in 1997.
The mutual antipathy between the Stonebridge and Church Road estates masks their similarities. Both have profound levels of poverty and youth unemployment, and most residents are of African-Caribbean descent.
And both have high crime rates: in September, 293 crimes were reported in the Stonebridge area, 85 of which were violence and sexual offences.
“Lots of people have heard shootings, there’s lots of violence, but you get used to it. There’s also lots of gang-related postcode activity,” says Finlayson. It is the area’s adolescents, he adds, who are particularly at risk: “A lot of young teens can get up to no good – they’re probably the most vulnerable.”
Another local, Pascal Pelosi-Campbell, agrees. “Growing up in the area, you could describe it as ‘eventful.’” The year he was born – 2003 – saw a series of high-profile shootings in Stonebridge, the most notorious being the murder of seven-year-old Toni-Ann Byfield, who was shot in the back by a drug dealer after she witnessed him kill Bertram Byfield, the man she knew as her father. Stonebridge and Church Road became the focus of the Metropolitan police’s Operation Trident, which targets gun crimes in London’s black communities.
More killings followed. One of the most shocking was the shooting of James Owusu-Agyekum in November 2016. A victim of suspected mistaken identity, the 22-year-old business student was killed when gunmen fired shots through his mother’s open front door on the Church End estate. Two suspects – who were never caught – were seen cycling back to Stonebridge.
Owusu-Agyekum’s death underlined how growing up in a certain street made youngsters a target. Adding to the risk was the fact that by the time Owusu-Agyekum died, there was hardly anywhere safe for the estate’s young people to hang out.
The Conservative government’s austerity programme meant Brent’s youth clubs and community centres all but disappeared. Stonebridge lost the Hilltop Club, the Annexe and other neighbourhood projects. Church End lost its popular adventure playground and a nearby youth club. “Young people had nowhere safe to go,” says Finlayson.
New research by the Youth Endowment Fund reveals only one in 10 teenage children feels “very safe” when in the street, parks and on public transport.
For Finlayson’s father, Justin, the killing of Owusu-Agyekum was the final straw. Determined to make his neighbourhood safe, the London bus driver acquired an aged double-decker in 2017 and filled it with recording equipment for nearby teenagers to make music.
Stonebridge teenagers would record rhythm tracks that Church Road residents would then unknowingly rap over and vice versa. “That proved to them something they thought impossible – that they could work together,” says Justin.
His music mentoring project – called United Borders – is regarded by many as the only public space that is a guaranteed place of safety. Even so, visitors are given Uber rides so they can travel safely to and from the bus.
“It’s the only place 100% safe in an area down to Ladbroke Grove and Shepherd’s Bush [two-and-a -half miles away],” says a diminutive 14-year-old who calls himself “J”.
Soon, though, the violence Justin was trying to tackle almost derailed his project. Heading to meet friends at 9pm on New Year’s Eve in 2017, his son felt he was being stalked as he cut through an estate, albeit not Stonebridge. In the moments that followed, Rico Finlayson was stabbed 11 times by a group wearing balaclavas. As with Owusu-Agyekum, the attack was a case of mistaken identity and, again, the perpetrators would never be caught.
Despite the fact that Finlayson made a full physical recovery, his psychological trauma runs deep. “I get spikes of paranoia, spikes of anxiety, I find myself constantly looking around. I’m triggered by all sorts, even a car passing by late at night,” he says, exhaling slowly.
Helping him cope is United Border’s trauma specialist, Stephen Graham. The 47-year-old understands only too well the repercussions of violence.
Growing up in Church Road, Graham endured an abusive stepfather before embracing violence as a youngster. He was arrested for armed robbery at the age of 15 and a year later he was arrested for international drug trafficking. Sent to Jamaica by his mother, Graham was then convicted of stabbing a man to death in the island’s Spanish Town.
During an eight-year prison sentence, Graham had time to reflect. “I had to learn to love myself. Your worth has to come from within. Inside, I learned emotional intelligence, emotional control,” he says.
Returning to the UK in 2006, Graham became a mentor for youngsters who see their opportunities shrinking long before they have left school. Being black, young and from postcodes some associate with criminality, they are stigmatised at an early age, says Graham. “They’re demonised and victimised, labelled as criminals,” he adds.
Government-backed studies corroborate the hurdles facing this cohort; obstacles that can encourage violence. A comprehensive report into youth violence, published in June, stated: “Children who are male, black, neurodivergent and/or from low-income households are particularly likely to have stigmatising interactions within systems of support. This may affect the development of their identity and their involvement in violence.” The report also said they are quickly written off as troublemakers,so their association with violence is reinforced and escalates. It added: “Stigmatisation is part of many children’s journeys to violence. For example, practitioners may label a child as ‘risky’ or an ‘offender’, influencing their self-identity.”
Girls are also caught up in the violence, currently accounting for 40% of all referrals to United Borders.
“Many have negative relationships with men, but have learned to hide it. But the violence towards them can make them act tougher in order to cope – they can become perpetrators,” says Tanvi Patel of United Borders.
Looking ahead, Justin wants the government to adopt a public health approach in a similar way to how Glasgow tackled its youth violence epidemic by encouraging the police to work with those in the health, education and social work sectors.
The current approach, he says, with its use of stop and search and focus on drugs, is not working, amplifying a sense distrust between young people and the police.
On Friday night, with darkness falling on Brent’s estates, J – recently arrested for an offence he would only describe as a “sticky one” – is beaming inside the United Borders bus. “When I’m rapping, it’s like I’m writing a diary – it makes me feel better,” he says.
Graham nods: “We’re helping them see their greatness: to learn patience – and love.”
