Staging Restorative Justice: A Play that Packs a Punch
This is a blog by our Writer in Residence, Nina Fuentes.
In 2011, James Hodgkinson was killed by a single punch thrown by Jacob Dunne, a 19-year-old man from The Meadows estate in Nottingham. It was unplanned, random and “a stupid mistake.” After Jacob had served a 14-month sentence in a Young Offender Institution, Joan and David, James’ parents, looked into contacting him in the hopes of getting some answers surrounding their son’s death. James Graham’s hit play Punch aims to tell Jacob and the Hodgkinsons’ story of Restorative Justice. But does it merely recount this process, or does it actively embody its principles?
As Why me?’s Writer in Residence, I went to find out how a play can become a space for collective empathy and a catalyst for the very conversations Restorative Justice seeks to raise. As a working theatremaker, a playwright studying at the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama and and as someone with a keen interest in Restorative Justice, Punch has, since its 2024 inception, intrigued me as both a piece of theatre and a restorative process in and of itself.
Humanising the Perpetrator
First produced at the Nottingham Playhouse, Punch explores Jacob’s upbringing on The Meadows estate, his turn to selling drugs, and the fatal punch that ended James Hodgkinson’s life. One area in which Punch thrives dramaturgically is in its portrayal of Jacob; it does not paint him as an archetypal villain but instead a man who has made mistakes, particularly a deadly one. Whilst the play never excuses Jacob’s actions, we understand that they come from a place of seeking validation. In a post-show Q&A, the real Jacob Dunne described his desire to fight as a desire to be seen and admired, never a desire to cause long-lasting harm. As we hear Jacob, chaotically and brilliantly played by David Shields, describe his first days in HMP Nottingham and being transferred to a Young Offender Institution, Act One wraps up with us itching to see what this play is really about. It’s here that the play masterfully shifts the focus from the act of harm itself to its vast and painful aftermath – the starting point for many restorative processes. We are left not just asking “What will happen to Jacob?” but, more importantly, “How can Joan and David, James’s parents, possibly bear to be in the same room as their son’s killer?” It is this very question that Restorative Justice seeks to answer.
The Ripple Effect of Harm
At the start of Act Two, we gain more insight into the impact that James’ death has had on his parents, Joan and David (played by Julie Hesmondhalgh and Tony Hirst respectively). David, a witness to the crime, has night terrors; Joan, the only one present when James’ life support was switched off, needs answers about her son’s death. The play then carefully dramatises the cautious beginnings of the Restorative Justice process. We see Joan and David, through Victim Support, pose their first, raw questions to Jacob: “why our son?”, “did you mean to kill him?” This leads to a written dialogue, facilitated by Wendy and Nicola, which builds a fragile trust and culminates in the courageous request for a face-to-face meeting. When Wendy passes this request onto Jacob, he is initially hesitant, worried that they will come to the meeting with anger and vengeance. Jacob’s doubts are soon quashed when Wendy and Nicola assure him that Joan and David are hoping to grow from this experience – and trust that Jacob can gain the same from it too.
This is, I think, the play’s most impactful moment. It truthfully and responsibly conveys the purpose of Restorative Justice as one promoting the wellbeing of all involved. It does not seek to further punish an offender or traumatise a victim, instead offering a democratised platform for all involved to ask questions, get answers and voice feelings. And, in Jacob, Joan and David’s case, even evolve into valuable, curative relationships. It is also here in the play, based on Jacob’s autobiography Right From Wrong, where Graham critiques the punitive system as perpetuating a cycle of harm.
The journey from a single punch on a Nottingham street to a shared stage in London is a profound one. Punch demonstrates that while the Criminal Justice System often seeks to assign blame and close cases, Restorative Justice – and the art that mirrors it – seeks to open dialogues and repair harm. James Graham’s play, and the courageous real-life story it tells, serves as a vital catalyst. It starts conversations in theatre foyers and on the journey home, pushing us to consider a more empathetic, human-centred approach to justice. In the end, Punch packs its real power not in the re-enactment of a violent act, but in the quiet, courageous moments of connection that followed.
