After son dies by ‘suicide’, mother battles social media giants for answers

“My world shattered on a quiet April evening in 2022,” recalls Ellen Roome, 48, a bereaved mother from Cheltenham, UK.

Her 14-year-old son, Jools Sweeney, had spent the day playing football with friends and chatting cheerfully with his family.

He had spoken to Ellen on the phone just hours before, his voice filled with the carefree joy of the day, and as they ended the call, his final words, “Love you,” hung in the air—a tender memory she would carry forever.

In less than two hours, his mother found Jools in his bedroom, not breathing, leaving behind a silence that spoke louder than words and a void no explanation could fill.

While the coroner couldn’t determine whether Jools had been in a “suicidal mood,” Ellen suspects he may have been drawn into the dangerous world of online challenges—harmless on the surface but potentially deadly.

“Jools did a lot of challenges, but I thought they were fun kids' challenges,” she says in an exclusive interview with TRT World from her home in Cheltenham.

“I even joined in with some of them.”

The possibility that one of these challenges could have gone horribly wrong haunts Ellen.

“It’s my gut feeling, but my gut feeling isn’t enough—I need to know,” she says.

For more than two years, Ellen has fought to access Jools’s social media accounts, but she says tech companies have made it “very difficult.”

Her relentless advocacy reached the British Parliament on Monday, where her petition for a ‘Jools’ Law’ was supported by Labour Party MP Lola McEvoy.

The proposed bill, if approved, could be a milestone for bereaved families like Ellen’s, offering them a way to understand their children’s final moments without enduring the immense financial and emotional obstacles she has faced.

By mandating social media companies to preserve and share data in cases of a child’s death, the legislation would dismantle legal and bureaucratic barriers that currently prevent grieving parents from accessing vital information.

Jools' law campaign is part of a broader, global movement to address the risks social media poses to young users.

Last month, Australia enacted one of the world’s strictest internet regulations, banning children under 16 from using social media without verified parental consent and imposing fines of up to USD $30.7 (AUD $49.5) million for non-compliance.

Norway has also proposed recently to raise the age of consent for social media use to 15, allowing parents to sign off for younger users, and is working on legislation to establish an absolute minimum age for access.

Where’s the data?

Ellen’s search for answers quickly became a fight against systemic failures. The police investigation was hampered by delays and limitations.

“As a parent, you have no right to see your child’s (online) data. And I never realised that,” she says, referring to the current law.

She was particularly troubled by the fact that neither the Gloucestershire Coroner nor Gloucestershire Police requested Jools’ full social media search history from tech companies after his death.

Ellen learned that many platforms only retain user data for 90 days unless a formal preservation request is submitted, something that never happened in Jools’ case.

“It was one of his friends who eventually guessed his password. But that was five months after Jools died, and by then, any data stored on social media was likely gone,” she said.

The police managed to uncover one TikTok account, one Instagram account, and one Snapchat account, but Ellen knew her son had more profiles.

Social media companies, including TikTok and Meta, have cited privacy concerns in refusing to share meaningful data with her.

TikTok claimed it deleted Jools’ search history in compliance with data protection laws. Meanwhile, Meta provided basic account details like Jools’ username and phone number but refused to release his messages or browsing history.

“This isn’t about prying into other people’s lives,” Ellen insists. “What I want is to know what happened to my son. Was he bullied? Was someone coercing him? Did he see something harmful?”

Liberal Democrat MP for Cheltenham, Max Wilkinson said social media companies “placed process ahead of compassion” in Jools’ case and put his mother through a “cruel and inhumane process” in seeking answers about her son’s death.

Ellen’s frustration is shared by other grieving parents.

In the 45 days surrounding Jools’ death, six other families lost children under eerily similar circumstances, each one desperate for answers locked behind digital walls.

“We all want answers,” she says. “One mother has video evidence of her son trying a blackout challenge. Another has photos of her daughter with marks around her neck.”

“If the police can’t get the data and the companies won’t share it, where does that leave us?” Ellen asks.

“How do we ever find out what happened?”

Jools’ law: a petition for change

Over the past two and a half years, Ellen has dedicated her life to uncovering the truth about Jools’ death, spending over USD $104,000 (£86,000) in legal fees just to petition for a new inquest, which might compel tech companies to release his social media data.

“Parents shouldn’t have to go to court and spend tens of thousands just to get permission to understand their own child’s death.”

However, for families like Ellen’s, some progress has come in the form of the Online Safety Act in 2023.

The legislation allows coroners investigating a child’s death to access and preserve online data.

A new Data Bill, currently making its way through Parliament, aims to strengthen these protections further.

It promises that platforms will be compelled to retain data in cases of a child’s death, granting coroners the ability to review and share this material with grieving families.

But Ellen remains critical of the gaps in the law.

She wishes data to be requested automatically as a parent who proved to be safeguarding the child.

“I want it to be automatic that when a child dies, it’s automatically saved, preserved. If they don’t need it, the coroner can get rid of it, but they then have the ability to look at that information,” she says.

Ellen’s campaign is no longer just about her son—it’s about ensuring no other family has to endure the same fight.

“I knew I had to keep going,” she says.

Ellen’s petition collected 126,000 signatures within days, leading to the Parliament debate.

“Even the minister had tears in her eyes and promised to arrange a meeting to amend the data bill”.

As Ellen reflects on the families she has stood alongside and the countless others still searching for answers, her determination stays strong.

“We’re not looking for a witch hunt; we’re looking for the truth about our children’s deaths. That’s what they need to remember—we just want to understand what happened.”