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Dele Zeynep Walton sensed something was off when she emerged from a caravan in New Forest at 8 am, camping with her boyfriend. Initially frustrated by the early start, she quickly realized the car was off course, and upon approaching, found her mother appeared “hysterical.” “Right away,” she recalls, “I thought, ‘That’s Amy.'”
Amy, Walton’s younger sister, was 21 and had been struggling with mental health issues for several months. She had a passion for music technology and art, with her stunning self-portraits adorning their family home in Southampton. A big fan of Pharrell Williams, she once received five calls to join him on stage at a concert. However, as her mental health declined, she became increasingly unreachable. “For two months, I had no idea where she was or what she was doing,” Walton says.
That October morning in 2022, Walton uncovered a devastating truth. Amy was found dead in a hotel room in Slough, Berkshire, presumed to have taken her own life. In the following days, Walton and her family would begin to understand Amy’s path—a journey facilitated by a complex web of online connections.
She loved music and art… some of Amy’s self-portraits in her family home. Photo: Peter Fluid/Guardian
Walton, a 25-year-old journalist, pieced together that Amy had engaged with a suicidal promotion forum that the Guardian opted not to name. This site is
linked to at least 50 deaths
in the UK and is currently
under investigation by Ofcom, a regulator under the online safety law. Police investigating Amy’s death revealed that at this forum, Amy learned how to obtain the substance that ended her life and met the man who flew to Heathrow to accompany her at the end. (He was initially charged with assisting suicide, but no further action was taken.)
Sitting in the garden of her parents’ house in Southampton, Walton describes how she came to write about the events that transpired. Her book,
Logoff: Human costs in the digital world
is partly a tribute to her sister and partly an exploration of the implications of everyday web browsing, fate, and the digital world that can perpetuate harm.
“I thought: I need to dedicate myself to uncovering this. Why is the public unaware of these ongoing harms? Because they are constant.” She references Vlad Nikolin-Caisley from Southampton, saying that earlier this month,
a woman was arrested
on suspicion of aiding his suicide.
With a review of Aimee’s death in June, Walton hopes that online factors will be included in the investigation and that “online harm” will be acknowledged as a cause or contributing factor in her sister’s death.
This phrase has become familiar to her. “Until I lost Amy, I didn’t understand what ‘online harm’ meant,” she reflects. She first heard the term from
Ian Russell, Molly’s father and a campaigner for online safety. Molly Russell was 14 when she took her life after being exposed to images and videos of self-harm. Uniquely, the coroner stated that online activity “had contributed to her death in a minimal way.” Walton hopes a similar perspective will be taken in her sister’s case, believing that calling it “suicide” alone fails to account for the impact of the digital world and places unfair blame on Amy while leaving it unregulated.
“We can become vulnerable at any time in our lives”… Amy’s photo. Photo: Peter Fluid/Guardian
Initially labeling her sister’s death a “suicide,” Walton now feels this term no longer adequately reflects Amy’s situation. When suicide is seen as a voluntary action, how much choice does a person really have when influenced by an intentional online community? And if individuals are genuinely free to choose, Walton questions, how does the algorithm continuously presenting Amy with self-harm content shape her experience? “That’s where it becomes hard for me to label it a suicide,” Walton asserts. “My intuition tells me Amy was groomed and that her decision was not entirely hers.”
Her deep dive into these issues has transformed Walton into an activist. She collaborates with
Bereaved Families for Online Safety
and serves as a young people’s ambassador for
People vs Big Technology. “We must address these issues head-on,” she emphasizes. “If we don’t, it fosters the belief that online safety is solely a personal responsibility.”
Walton recounts how police indicated that the man who accompanied Amy at the hotel had shared the room for 11 days prior to her passing. The room contained Amy’s notes, but Walton mentioned they were so filled with pain that they were unreadable. He later told police that he was “working.” She reveals that the man called 999 after Amy ingested the toxic substance but declined to administer CPR. Amy has since been linked to 88 deaths in the UK and the toxic substances are purportedly sourced from Kenneth Law, a Canadian under investigation by the National Crime Agency.
A New York Times investigation revealed the forum was established by two men. Walton visited the forum herself, wanting to trace her sister’s final interactions. “Many posts essentially say, ‘Your family doesn’t care about you; you should do this.’ They phrase it, ‘When are you getting on the bus?'”
Walton views this forum as a form of radicalization towards extreme behaviors that individuals may never have contemplated. She is alarmed by the thought that the man with Amy may have been “living a twisted fantasy as an incel, where a vulnerable young woman seeks to end her life.”
Prior to Amy’s death, Walton held a neutral stance on technology. Now, she describes, “The digital world is a distorted reflection of our offline world, amplifying its dangers.” In her book, her consideration of online harm victims spans a range of experiences, from Archie Batasby, who visited TikTok on the day he suffered a life-changing brain injury, to Meareg Amare Abrha, a university professor in Ethiopia who was killed after posting provocatively on Facebook. She also contemplates Amazon workers striving for better pay and conditions, alongside “Tony,” a 90-year-old neighbor who faced digital exclusion yet taught Walton how to use smartphones.
“For too long, the facade of technology has been equated with progress and innovation, which is a notion I challenge in my book,” she asserts. She recalls infamous public figures like Zuckerberg, Cook, Pichai, Bezos, and Musk, questioning, “Where are the engineers?” and stressing the interconnectedness of these power networks.
“The campaign allows survivors to regain control”… Amy’s bedroom in her family home. Photo: Peter Fluid/Guardian
Yet, Walton sometimes describes her experience as akin to being the digital equivalent of climate scientists from the 1970s. She acknowledges that her relationship with technology is complex, much like Amy’s. Her cherished memories of playing together revolve around their family computer in their parents’ bedroom.
“Chadwick and the Despicable Egg Thief – there’s video of us playing at 3 years old. We’ve played Color Games repeatedly. I’ve been taking photos with a ‘Digicam’ since I was 8, not to mention Xbox, Nintendo, computers—all just for fun!”
In a way, Walton describes her existence as a “double life.” Her book critically examines her own habits. While writing it, she lived in tracksuits, yet none of her
Instagram
posts reveal this journey. She uses the app to limit her screen time and shares
TikToks about “logoff.” Video calls have also allowed her family to “grieve together” after her sister’s passing, many of whom reside in Türkiye.
Promoting her book has made it tough to detach from screens. “I feel like a hypocrite!” she admits. “My screen time this week is nine and a half hours.”
A day? “I don’t like it,” she replies, “I typically average six hours.”
Ultimately, she doesn’t aim for perfection, stating, “I’m in control of it all, guys.”
In her book, Walton notes, “The campaign allows survivors to reclaim the control that was taken from them,” a sentiment that resonates with her as the process seems exhausting. “Did I say that?” she questions, surprised. “But if I hadn’t engaged in this, where would that anger go? It would consume me and make me unwell.”
She has also engaged local MPs (first Royston Smith, then Darren Puffy), and Secretary of State Peter Kyle to seek answers about what occurred with Amy. “When we discuss online safety, it’s often framed in terms of protecting children. While that’s crucial, I also represent Amy; it’s about all of us. We can become vulnerable at any stage in our lives. If we focus solely on children’s safety, we become 18 and still don’t know how to navigate a healthy digital life,” she explains.
“I feel it’s my duty to Amy since I wish I could have shielded her.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
Balancing her grief with activism has proven challenging. “Some days I genuinely can’t handle it, or I just need a day in bed, as my body struggles to keep pace with all the emotional weight.”
“But this is my mission. Those in power only act if they feel the weight of this pain. If Mark Zuckerberg experienced the loss of a child due to online harm, perhaps he would finally understand, ‘Oh my God, I need to pay attention.'”
Logoff: Human costs in the digital world Adele Zeynep Walton will be published by Trapeze on June 5th (£20). To support the Guardian, consider ordering a copy at
Guardianbookshop.com. Shipping fees may apply.
In the UK and Ireland, contact
Samaritans at Freephone 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org or jo@samaritans.ie. In the US, call or text
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 988, chat at
988lifeline.org, or
text HOME to reach a crisis counselor at 741741. Crisis Support Services in Australia can be reached at
Lifeline at 13 1114. Additional international helplines are available at
befrienders.org.
Source: www.theguardian.com
