The three boys boarded a crowded and deflating dinghy that was fleeing Libya – a country plagued with arbitrary detention, rape, torture and exploitation.

When their crammed rubber float inevitably sank, a cargo ship named after its captain, Nadar El Hiblu, rescued the 111 individuals fearing for their lives.

The rescued persons were told that they would be taken to Europe but as the arduous journey progressed, they realised that they were being taken back to Libya.

Panic ensued. People began crying and shouting; insisting that they’d rather die at sea than be taken back to a country that wants to see them tortured.

This is where Lamin, Abdalla and Abdul entered the story.

The youths helped the chief officer by translating and calming the other 108 passengers down. Lamin explained to the captain the cause of distress and Nadar then decided to take the boat full of people to Malta.

However, according to the BBC, when Nadar approached the island, he reportedly told Maltese authorities across his radio that he was not in control of his ship.

Despite the island’s police confirming that no one was injured and that the “situation on the ship appeared quiet and under control”, the Maltese army stormed the ship and the boys were disembarked in Malta in handcuffs, according to an Amnesty International public statement.

Demarco photographed these boys for one campaign and two publications – the former being Amnesty International last year and her most recent publication being with the BBC.

She explained that for the Amnesty International campaign, she had taken anonymous portraits with the boys. But as she began working with other publications, she got further insight into their lives.

Demarco was drawn to depict the story from a humane angle showing how “normal and teenage” these young boys are despite the heavy charges that they’re currently facing.

She recounted a moment in which she took a formal photo of one of the boys for an official document, and immediately after the seriousness, he began laughing and joking around – acting like any other teenager.

This reinforced the idea that images can only show a fraction of reality, so she felt a certain responsibility to ensure that the snippet that she’s able to portray is a genuine one.

Subsequently, besides authenticity, Demarco had no plans or conscious process that determined what she wanted to capture.

“It comes naturally, they let me into their lives and that’s all I’m showing. I’m photographing what I’m seeing,” she said.

And what she saw were “friendly, funny and upbeat boys” that she quickly built a friendship with. Three humans that, when describing them, the label “terrorist” would never come to mind.

Another pinnacle moment that struck Demarco and strengthened the relatable angle of the story was when she saw a notification on Lamin’s phone that reminded him to sign in at the police station; a chore that he would have to do every day in compliance with his bail conditions.

When she saw this, she immediately thought that “this could be anyone’s phone”, emphasising the importance of upholding the human element to their story and reflecting on the charges that surround them.

Demarco also described the admirable courage that these boys have been able to maintain. They acknowledge the tumultuous ways in which these charges have affected them but they’re still determined to get on with their lives.

“Abdul recently said in an interview that remaining cheerful helps them hold on to the little bit of freedom they still have,” she explained.

Besides the potential sentence, Demarco said that the duration of the court case must be one of the most difficult things that they have to endure. They’re sometimes made to wait months between hearings, leaving them without answers or indications of what the future brings.

The case has been ongoing for two and a half years.

Lamin spent eight months in prison, before being released on bail. He now has a room in a centre for young migrants.

Abdul has turned 19 and he is teaching himself driving theory in the hopes that one day he can learn for real.

Since living in Malta, Abdalla and his wife have become proud parents to a girl who is now eight months old.

This situation has forced three promising young boys to grow up at an unimaginable pace. After having to flee a country that was threatening their lives daily, they were met with unfounded allegations that Maltese authorities can’t seem to handle and thus, they’ve been condemned to almost three years of a mentally excruciating limbo.

However, when looking at Demarco’s work, you can see exactly what she described; “normal teenage boys”.

What do you think about their story?