When Ruth Cherry goes to bed at night, she’s watched by a camera system. Motion sensors track her every move. Microphones listen to her breathing. If she wakes up and makes a noise, the system activates. A government-employed responder, watching several miles away from Ruth’s home in Glasgow, will ask her what she wants over a speaker system. But Ruth has a disability and can’t talk—so she’s unable to reply. If the government worker decides she’s in distress, someone will be dispatched to her house. 

Ruth was born with hydrocephalus, a condition where a build-up of fluid exerts pressure on the brain. As a child, she was diagnosed with learning disabilities, epilepsy and autism. She is unable to speak, wash herself, feed herself, or go to the toilet alone, and her family say she requires constant care. 

In January, after nearly three decades of living at home with around-the-clock care, Ruth moved out aged 26. The government offered her a house of her own in the Glasgow suburb of Thornliebank, with a spare room for a live-in carer. Ruth loved horseriding and going out on day trips with her carers—she’d had a taste of independence, and was ready for more.

“We saw this as a move that would mean Ruth was set up for an independent life,” her brother David Cherry said. “Regardless of what happens to me or her mum or dad. And also so they could have a bit more of a life again and have some rest—they’ve given up a lot and worked very hard to be carers for my sister.”