Last Friday night, 45 advertising industry professionals voluntarily spent the night inside the former Yasmar Youth Detention Centre in Sydney. The occasion? Adland Bail Out, a fundraising and awareness event hosted by UnLtd to shine a light on Australia’s youth justice crisis.
The goal was simple: experience what it’s like to lose your autonomy, even for one night, and in doing so, raise much-needed funds for young people at risk of incarceration.
Participants were fingerprinted, yelled at, interrogated, and placed in solitary confinement. They had no access to phones, no say over what they ate, when they slept, or where they went. Through a combination of immersive simulation and powerful storytelling from people with lived experience, the event aimed to build empathy and drive action.
Together, the 45 “inmates” raised over $102,000 to support UnLtd’s work and the Raise the Age NSW campaign, which is pushing to lift the minimum age of criminal responsibility from 10 to at least 14. That means stopping children, some still in primary school, from being sent to prison.
The night also included workshops run by organisations like Down The Track and Musicians Making a Difference, both of which provide community-led, creative and culturally appropriate alternatives to incarceration.
“This was my first Bail Out and it was an incredibly powerful way to understand — and truly feel what life is like for children in the justice system. It reminded me that there are no ‘bad’ kids, just better alternatives we must fight for. I’m deeply grateful to all our inmates who went above and beyond to fundraise for this important cause and gave up their weekend to spend a night behind bars in solidarity. As an industry, we harnessed our collective goodwill and turned it into action. We’re in a unique position to create change, and that starts with awareness, courage, and showing up,” said Philippa Moig, CEO of UnLtd and one of the inmates.
Lauren Dawber, senior director media, Operations & Performance at Optus, commented on the experience: “Last night was one of the most thought provoking, stereotype-challenging and transformative experiences. It opened my eyes to the sad realities and circumstances that lead to youth incarceration but also gave us hope by hearing from organisations doing incredible work to prevent crime and stop kids going to prison. Let’s raise the age together, no child that young should experience the justice system, they need care not incarceration.”
There is still time to donate and to view the leaderboard here.
An Inmate’s Confession: This One Night Changed Me Forever
I was one of those “inmates.” And I need you to know: this wasn’t a stunt. It was one of the most gut‑wrenching, confronting and transformative nights of my life.
When I walk in, I try to stay calm. One night, how hard can it be? Then someone screams orders: “Hands by your side, face the wall”.
My pulse races. I’m just seconds in, and already they’re shouting into my face backing me up into a wall. I feel tears sting behind my eyes, from the sudden realisation: this is real. This is how it begins.
Within minutes, I’m singled out for breaking some “rule” I can’t even remember. They march me in front of the group and order: “Sing.” So I mumble through Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, a pathetic, cracked mess. Humiliation doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Next, they shove me into a tiny holding cell, the size of a small closet. I fold my knees under my chin, space so cramped I can’t even stretch. The walls have scratch marks, etched names, random carvings, like pleas for mercy. And I’m alone, shivering, forced to stare at the freezing metal floor. Not allowed to raise my gaze when they call me. Just empty space, my ragged breath and the beating of my own heart.
It felt like time stopped. A searing loneliness I’d never known. And as the minutes stretched… I thought: What must this do to a kid’s mind? To their sense of hope? I was only in here for maybe three minutes at most, how long do kids spend in here?
They forced me to hand over every possession. My phone, my wallet, every bit of comfort. Then, the heavy cell doors shut behind me, and I’m in the ice‑cold cell. My pulse pounds. I’m powerless, disoriented and so very small.
Later, during a workshop, tearful voices shared their journeys: pain, anger and redemption. People who’d walked through those doors for real as kids spoke about how music saved them, how mentors saw something better in them, how reconnecting with their culture rebuilt their broken identities.
But the punch to the guts came when I realised what I hadn’t thought before: incarceration doesn’t just punish a child, it steals their sense of worth, crushes their identity, and traps them in a loop of shame that most don’t ever escape from.
I left that prison with a sore back, puffy eyes and a much heavier heart, but also with a deep sense of clarity. If this one night was hard for me, I can’t begin to imagine what it would be like for a 10-year-old. And yet, we let it happen every day in this country.
That night nearly destroyed me, but it also lit something on fire inside me. A certainty that we can’t stand by while little kids are treated worse than we would treat an animal. We have to raise the age. We have to build different systems. We have to fight with our voices, the resources we have accessible to us and most importantly, our hearts.
To say it simply, I’ll never be the same.
Aimee Edwards, senior reporter, B&T
A Guard’s Perspective
Having been more used to prisoner than gatekeeper, I couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous about being a prison guard. A pep talk from Ricky Chanana put any butterflies to bed, we were to make sure that inmates had a sobering experience, and it was all for an incredibly important cause.
Once in character, and barking a few commands at Kristiaan Kroon, the performance began to flow and, if I’m being honest, I started to enjoy seeing some of these pathetic inmates put through their paces.
How many times will a trade press journo ever get to tell media and advertising leaders to stand against a wall, wipe that smirk off their faces, and frisk them for contraband? We usually try digging up stuff that media buyers are hiding from clients, and this put a fresh spin on the day job.
Some of the ‘big dogs’ certainly gave a bit of lip, but they also earned their keep. A big shout-out to Kristiaan Kroon, Brittany Crowley, Philippa Noilea-Tani, Winston Stening, and Lauren Dawber, the top five fundraisers. And also to all the inmates not just for being great sports, but for showing up to what I hope is a life-changing experience that will inspire our industry to Raise the Age for youth incarceration in NSW, and continue fighting the good fight for young people in need.
Here is a photo of the guards moments before it all kicked off!
Arvind Hickman, features & analysis editor, B&T
