The Children's Court: The youngster who had been in detention for most of his teenage years said he wanted to go back inside to try and get his head straight.
"I want to get locked up today," he told the judge, the eyes behind his thick glasses wide and imploring.
"If I'm not I'll wreck the place. It's one or the other."
The 18-year-old had been in various residential units over the last six years following offences ranging from car theft to public order.
But when he was released he had fallen back into the same old rough-and-tumble world of violence, crime, and aggression.
As the case was being discussed, the young man, wearing a blue-and-white French football tracksuit, sat back in the bench with his arms sprawled across the bench, looking up at the window-panelled ceiling.
Judge Angela Ní Chondúin, quietly spoken and compassionate, thought silently for a moment.
"If he sees the difference between right and wrong I would feel reluctant to do this," she said.
"If there was an alternative . . ." she continued, her voice trailing off, "but there isn't, is there?"
In normal circumstances he might have been released on bail. Gardaí from Fitzgibbon Street station said he had been co-operative. But none of that mattered now.
"If he has threatened to do danger outside then there is no choice," she said, sadly.
She asked him where he wanted to go.
The young man, who seemed to have drifted away to a different world, snapped back to life.
"St Pat's, please. It's closer to my family," he said, standing up, almost eager to be led down to the cells.
The judge signed off the relevant documents, and raised her eyes ruefully as she handed the paperwork to the clerk.
As the 18-year-old left the room, a 15-year-old strutted in, his arms bulging out of his T-shirt.
He was pleading guilty to a range of charges relating mostly to assault and public order offences.
A garda explained the circumstances of one of the offences which occurred while the boy was drunk on a street in Dublin's north inner city. "He said he knew where one of the gardaí lived.
"He also threatened another garda, and said he was only a scumbag worker and he would be killed," the garda said gravely.
The boy's father laughed as the scene was recounted, but stopped suddenly when he looked up to see if the judge had noticed.
Judge Ní Chondúin said while the charges were serious, she was willing to give the boy a probation bond of 12 months if he was willing to co-operate with the welfare services.
The boy, with a sour face, folded his arms and refused. "I don't get on with them," he said sullenly.
She gave him another chance to think about it, resuming the case after lunch, but he was still unmoved.
"Right, two years," Judge Ní Chondúin said. "He has had his chance, that's the alternative."
The boy's tough expression melted away as he eyes welled up and he began to wipe his nose.
"Jesus Christ," the boy's father muttered to himself.
"Unfortunately he is someone who doesn't want to listen or be helped," the judge continued.
As the child was led out with gloomy eyes, he scribbled his mobile number on a piece of paper for his father.
"Keep your head up," his father whispered to him, hugging him awkwardly, before gardaí came to take him away.
