BBC investigation expands: 30 children feared conceived with wrong donors at Cyprus IVF clinics

Rachel spent thirteen years wondering if the clinic had made a mistake. She had chosen a Danish sperm donor named Ditto from the world's largest sperm bank, Cryos International, when she sought fertility treatment at Dogus IVF Centre in northern Cyprus in 2012. The package cost about £3,200—a fraction of what similar treatment would have run in Britain. She wanted her future child to have the option of contacting the donor at eighteen. When her son Jonah was born, something felt off. His appearance didn't match the profile description. The clinic's patient coordinators, including a woman named Julie Hodson, repeatedly refused to send her medical confirmation that Ditto's sperm had actually been used. After thirteen years of uncertainty, Rachel and Jonah took DNA tests. The results confirmed what she had suspected: Jonah was her biological son, but Ditto was not his father.

Rachel's experience is no longer an isolated case. A BBC investigation has now identified at least thirty children, most of them British, who are feared to have been conceived using sperm or egg donors different from the ones their parents carefully selected. The parents chose their donors based on medical history, appearance, personality, education, and hobbies—information they trusted to be accurate. Instead, they suspect they were systematically deceived. Half of the thirty cases are linked to Dogus IVF Centre, where three staff members—Dr. Firdevs Uguz Tip, Dr. Sevket Alpturk, and patient coordinator Julie Hodson—were repeatedly involved in the care of affected families. Dr. Firdevs denies any wrongdoing. Alpturk and Hodson have not responded to requests for comment.

The evidence of deception is striking. Eleven of the thirty children have taken commercial DNA tests, and the results tell a consistent story: they carry genetic ancestry from Turkey and surrounding regions, not the Western European heritage their parents were promised. The majority of these children were conceived between 2012 and 2024 at Dogus. When the BBC approached Cryos International—the sperm bank that had advertised itself as the source of donor sperm—the company revealed it has no record of ever delivering sperm to Dogus. More damaging still, Cryos blacklisted the clinic in 2016 after discovering that Dogus had failed to order sperm for a patient despite telling that patient it would. The sperm bank has since suspended work with both Dogus and Miracle IVF, the clinic currently run by Dr. Firdevs, pending the outcome of an official investigation by northern Cyprus's Ministry of Health.

Northern Cyprus exists in a regulatory vacuum. It is not recognized by the European Union and is legally recognized only by Turkey. Fertility clinics there operate with minimal oversight, attracting patients from across Europe with promises of low prices, high success rates, and access to a wide selection of donors. For British families seeking affordable fertility treatment, it has become one of the most popular destinations. But that loose regulation has created space for what fertility experts now describe as either systematic negligence or deliberate deception. The accidental use of a wrong donor during IVF is extraordinarily rare, they say. For this to happen thirty times across multiple clinics suggests something far more troubling. The British Fertility Society has indicated that the pattern points to a systemic problem that extends beyond any single doctor or clinic.

The human cost is profound and ongoing. Jonah, now thirteen, grew up believing he was half Danish. DNA tests revealed he is part Turkish and southern European instead. More significantly, he has lost the opportunity to contact his biological donor—something his mother had deliberately chosen for him. Rachel does not know who his real donor is or whether that donor's sperm was used in other IVF treatments, potentially creating genetic siblings Jonah will never know. Families across Britain now face similar questions: Who are their children's biological parents? What medical histories should they know? What genetic siblings might exist? Laura Bridgens, founder of the charity Donor Conceived UK, called the situation deeply troubling. "It's a fundamental human right for a donor-conceived person to know the truth about their origins," she said.

The investigation has expanded since the BBC first reported seven cases in March. More parents have come forward with strikingly similar stories. They describe clinics promising screened, healthy donors from Western Europe, only to become suspicious after their children were born. The northern Cyprus Ministry of Health announced it had launched an official investigation, but it has not provided updates or transparency about its progress. Dr. Firdevs claims she has been cleared of breaching any laws, but the BBC has been unable to confirm this with the government. The CEO of Cryos International expressed shock at the scale of the problem. Yet accountability remains elusive. We may never know with certainty who was ultimately responsible—whether orders were never placed, whether requests were never passed along, whether donors were deliberately substituted, or whether some combination of negligence and deception occurred. What is clear is that at least thirty families have been denied the truth about their children's origins, and the investigation is ongoing.