Recently, I came across information about Scotland’s Not at Home Protocol, and I have to admit that it left me with more questions than answers.

The protocol was introduced to help reduce unnecessary police involvement when looked-after children and young people are absent from their placement. Rather than immediately reporting every absence as a missing person incident, care providers can assess the circumstances and determine whether the young person is considered to be at a “tolerable” level of risk. If staff believe the young person is safe and there is no immediate concern for their welfare, they may initially record them as “not at home” rather than reporting them missing to the police.

The intention behind the policy is understandable. Nobody wants vulnerable young people to be unnecessarily criminalised. Nobody wants police resources tied up responding to situations that genuinely present little risk. The idea is that professionals who know a young person well can make informed decisions about whether an absence requires an immediate police response.

On paper, that may sound reasonable.

However, as a former looked-after child who was exploited and trafficked over 2 years. I find myself deeply concerned by the assumptions that sit at the heart of this approach.

My concern is simple. How do we know a child is safe? More importantly, how do we know that the adults making those decisions are right?

When I was in care, I was reported missing repeatedly. Over a four-month period alone, I was reported missing 43 times. Thirteen of those episodes lasted overnight or for several days. On at least one occasion, I was gone for around one to two weeks.

If someone had looked at my records without understanding what was happening in my life, they may have seen a pattern. They may have thought I was simply going to the same places. They may have assumed they knew who I was with. They may have believed I would return eventually because I always had before. They may even have felt reassured because they occasionally managed to contact me on my mobile phone.

But they would have been wrong.

The reality was that I was a vulnerable child being exploited and trafficked. I was not safe.

And that is exactly why this issue concerns me so much.

One of the most dangerous aspects of exploitation is that it often does not look dangerous from the outside. Children who are being groomed do not always present as victims. They may defend the people harming them. They may repeatedly return to the same locations. They may insist that they are fine. They may answer phone calls. They may appear to be making their own choices.

To an adult observing from a distance, those behaviours can create a false sense of reassurance. In reality, those same behaviours are often present in cases of child exploitation.

That is why I struggle with any system that relies on adults making assumptions about a vulnerable child’s safety.

Supporters of the Not at Home Protocol will rightly point to the safeguards built into the guidance. A young person’s absence should not continue indefinitely without concern. The guidance makes clear that there are circumstances where a missing person report should be made, including when an absence extends beyond a reasonable period, when a young person is under the influence of drugs or alcohol, when they have important medical needs, or when other risk factors are identified.

The problem is not what the guidance says.

The problem is whether adults always recognise risk when it is present.

As a care-experienced person, that is where my concern lies.

History has shown us time and time again that vulnerable children are not always identified as vulnerable. Children who are being groomed are often viewed as making bad choices. Children who are being exploited are often viewed as troublesome. Children who repeatedly go missing can become known for their behaviour rather than recognised for their vulnerability.

The Not at Home Protocol relies heavily on professional judgement. Someone has to decide that a young person is likely safe. Someone has to decide that the level of risk remains tolerable. Someone has to decide whether the circumstances justify a police response.

What concerns me is that those judgements are being made about some of the most vulnerable children in society.

When I was repeatedly reported missing, there were adults who knew where I was likely to be. There were adults who sometimes managed to contact me. There were adults who may well have believed they understood the situation.

Yet despite that, I was being exploited and trafficked.

That is why I find it difficult to place complete faith in systems that depend upon assumptions about a child’s safety.

The question is not whether the guidance contains safeguards.

The question is whether we can always trust ourselves to recognise danger before it becomes obvious.

If the history of child protection teaches us anything, it is that adults do not always get that judgement right.

The Not at Home Protocol depends on professionals assessing risk and deciding whether a young person’s absence presents a tolerable level of concern. My question is this. How many exploited children would appear low risk until the full reality of their circumstances became known?

How many children have disappeared repeatedly before someone recognised that they were being groomed? How many young people have been labelled as persistent absconders when they were actually victims?

As someone with lived experience, I worry that repeated missing episodes can become normalised.

The first time a child goes missing, alarm bells ring. The fifth time, there are concerns. The twentieth time, there is a risk that people begin to see a pattern rather than a child. The child becomes “the one who always goes missing.” The behaviour becomes familiar. The concern becomes routine.

And that is where I believe the danger lies.

Because repetition does not mean safety.

A child who goes missing repeatedly is not necessarily becoming less vulnerable. In some cases, they may be becoming more vulnerable. Each missing episode may represent another opportunity for exploitation, abuse, coercion or harm.

What worries me most is that children in care are already among the most vulnerable young people in society. Many have experienced abuse, neglect, trauma, instability and loss before they ever enter the care system. Some have neurodevelopmental differences. Some struggle with their mental health. Some are already known to be at risk of exploitation.

These are not children who start from a position of safety. They are children who need adults to remain curious, vigilant and protective.

I understand that the Not at Home Protocol was created with positive intentions. I understand the desire to reduce unnecessary police involvement and create a more proportionate response to missing episodes.

However, my lived experience leaves me asking a difficult question.

Would the child I was have been considered safe enough to be classified as “not at home”?

If the answer is even possibly yes, then that should concern us all.

This concern is not theoretical for me. As my missing episodes became more frequent, the level of urgency surrounding my absence appeared to reduce. There came a point where I was no longer treated as a Code Amber/ Amber Alert and was instead categorised as Green, largely because there was an assumption that I would eventually return. Looking back, that worries me deeply, because a child becoming predictably missing does not mean they have become predictably safe.

Because when a child is being exploited, trafficked or abused, they are not simply absent from their placement.

They are a child in danger.

And no safeguarding system can afford to forget that.