When a 14-year-old takes the life of a 16-year-old, our communities rupture. In the aftermath, we search desperately for answers. Parents are blamed for failing to supervise. The child is labeled as evil, irredeemable.
The education system is accused of missing warning signs. Social media, video games, peer groups all become convenient targets for our collective grief and anger.
This instinct to find a single cause is deeply human. We want to believe that if we can just locate the one broken piece, we can fix it and prevent the next tragedy.
But this search for a scapegoat, however understandable, prevents us from confronting a more uncomfortable truth: tragedies like these emerge from the complex interaction of multiple systems, all of which we, as a society, create and sustain.
Both the young person who committed the act and the one whose life was taken existed within the same community, the same school system, the same social environment.
If we are serious about prevention, and not punishment, we must ask ourselves: have we built environments where young people can truly thrive? Have we supported not only those in crisis, but everyone’s mental well-being?
When we narrow blame to one element, such as bad parenting, a “problem child”, or a broken school, we absolve ourselves of examining our own role. Worse, blame culture builds walls instead of bridges.
Parents become afraid to seek help. Young people hide their pain. Teachers hesitate to raise concerns without proof. The very act of blaming makes our communities less safe, not more.
Calling a 14-year-old “evil” may feel emotionally satisfying, but it is developmentally inaccurate. Adolescent brains are still developing, especially in areas that govern impulse control, emotional regulation, and understanding consequences.
This does not excuse harm, but it reminds us that young people who inflict pain are often carrying pain themselves, and that intervention should have happened long before tragedy struck.
If we want to prevent the next tragedy, we must recognise that mental health and well-being are collective responsibilities. They require coordinated action across families, schools, health care systems, communities, and policy.
Families Need Support, Not Condemnation
Most parents are doing their best under immense pressure, working long hours, managing financial stress, and navigating systems that are not built to help them.
When a child struggles, families need accessible support, not six-month wait lists. They need schools that work with them, not against them. They need communities that make seeking help a mark of strength, not shame.
Parenting is one of the hardest jobs in the world, and yet the easiest to criticise. Rather than isolating families through judgement, we should surround them with resources, from parenting workshops and helplines to peer support networks and family counselling. Every parent deserves to know that help exists, and that asking for it is not failure.
Schools Must Treat Emotional Health As Foundational
Teachers are often the first to notice when something is wrong. But we cannot expect them to act as counsellors when they are already overburdened with academic targets and administrative demands. Emotional well-being must be treated as foundational to learning, not an optional add-on.
Schools should be staffed with qualified counsellors and mental health professionals, in ratios that allow proactive support, not just crisis response.
Emotional literacy, which means learning how to recognise and manage feelings, resolve conflicts, and seek help, should be embedded in the curriculum as seriously as mathematics or science.
This requires funding, policy reform, and a redefinition of educational success. A school that produces high grades but fails to nurture safe, connected young people cannot truly be called successful.
Health Care Must Become Truly Accessible
Across Malaysia, mental health services remain difficult to access, particularly for children and adolescents. Families face long waiting times, high costs, and a fragmented care system. Too often, help is only available once a crisis has already occurred.
We need a public health model that integrates mental health into primary care, with early screening, on-site counselling, and referral pathways that are easy to navigate.
School-based mental health services can be a powerful starting point, bridging the gap between health and education. Crisis services must also be available; 24-hour helplines, walk-in centres, and trained responders who can intervene without criminalising distress.
Communities Shape Young Minds
Mental health is not built in clinics or classrooms alone but is instead cultivated in communities. Do our neighbourhoods have safe spaces where young people can gather and feel a sense of belonging? Do we check in when we see a child withdrawing, or do we tell ourselves it’s “not our business”?
Community mental health depends on connection. Whether through sports, arts, volunteering, or mentorship, young people need consistent adults and peers who make them feel seen and valued.
Every adult can play a role; a teacher, neighbour, imam, coach, or shopkeeper. Small acts of presence matter.
Policymakers Must Mainstream Mental Health
Too often, mental health enters policy conversations only after tragedy. It is funded last and cut first. But mental wellbeing should be a consideration in every policy — from housing and transport to education and employment. A stressful, isolating, inequitable environment will always produce distress downstream.
Good policy is preventive mental health care. Safe housing, fair wages, accessible public transport, inclusive education…these are mental health policies, whether we call them that or not.
Dear reader, despite growing awareness, stigma remains stubbornly among us. We may say “it’s okay not to be okay,” but we often act otherwise.
Young people fear being labelled as “crazy” or “dangerous” if they admit to disturbing thoughts. Parents fear judgement if they acknowledge their children’s struggles. Professionals hesitate to document mental health concerns due to potential consequences for the young person’s future.
As a society, we lack the capacity to accommodate those who are struggling. Our schools and workplaces still cater to a narrow idea of “normal”. When someone needs patience or accommodation, we too often see it as a burden rather than a basic need.
This is counter-productive, because young people who are struggling need environments that can adapt to meet them where they are, not systems that require them to function perfectly or face exclusion.
Culture shifts through daily interactions. How do we respond when someone opens up? Do we listen, or dismiss? Do we speak about mental health as weakness or wisdom? Do we create environments at home, at work, in faith spaces, where vulnerability is accepted? Every conversation is a chance to normalise care.
Both the young person who died and the young person who took that life deserved better: better systems, better support, better communities. They deserved to grow up in a society where mental well-being is seen as essential to safety, not secondary to it.
We cannot undo this tragedy. But we can honour both lives by building the communities we should have built long ago, where asking for help is normal, where support is accessible, and where every child feels seen, heard, and valued.
This work is not the burden of parents, teachers, doctors, or policymakers alone. It is the work of all of us. The question is not whether we can afford to invest in mental health, but whether we can afford not to.
Every day we delay, another young person struggles without support. Every time we blame instead of build, we make the next tragedy more likely.
We all have a role to play. The time to play it is now.
This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of CodeBlue.