South Korea care home director sentenced for decade-long sexual abuse of disabled residents

Three residents were sexually assaulted by the care home director over nearly a decade; at least 10 additional residents showed indications of potential abuse; victims endured repeated rape and psychological trauma while institutionalized.
I just feel at peace. I'm happy every day.
Seo Mi-hyeon, after leaving the care home where she was assaulted for nearly a decade.
Mark

So Seo was assaulted for nearly ten years before anyone knew. How did that happen at a state-run facility that was being inspected?

Mimi

The inspections were mostly paperwork checks. Residents were only interviewed if there was already a specific concern. And Seo had no one safe to tell—she didn't trust other staff to help her.

Luke

But here's the thing: the Woosuk University assessment found indications that at least ten more residents could have been assaulted. The court never addressed that. Why?

Mimi

Because police couldn't get clear verbal testimony from residents with severe communication disabilities. They only counted victims who could describe the abuse in complete sentences.

Mark

So the investigation itself failed the most vulnerable people.

Mimi

Exactly. And it's not just this case. There are patterns across multiple facilities. A worker was sentenced in 2023 for assaulting two women at another home. Another in 2022.

Luke

The government says it's now inspecting 1,507 facilities and found 33 suspected cases. But that's after this case blew up. How many were missed before?

Mark

What about the families? Why didn't they pull their relatives out sooner?

Mimi

Because there's nowhere else to go. The average wait for a residential placement is three years. If you withdraw your family member, you take on all the care yourself.

Luke

So the system creates dependency, and that dependency creates vulnerability. The abuse isn't separate from the structure—it's enabled by it.

Mimi

That's what the counselling centre said. It's structural violence, not just individual crimes.

Mark

What does Seo want now?

Mimi

She wants to be left alone, never to see Kim again. But she also said something important: she hopes there can be a safe facility where disabled people can live in peace. She's not asking to be abandoned. She's asking for protection.

  • A woman with an intellectual disability walked into a police station and described nearly ten years of rape by the director of the state-run facility where she lived — abuse that only came to light after a physical injury finally forced her out of the building.
  • Investigators found at least two more victims, but a university research team identified signs of potential abuse in at least ten additional residents whose communication differences meant their accounts were never formally pursued.
  • The court convicted the director on the core charges but reduced the sentence below what prosecutors sought, and acquitted him of rape in one case because the victim could not demonstrate she had been unable to resist — a standard disability rights groups called deeply unjust.
  • Thirteen leniency petitions, including one from a social welfare organization citing the director's professional contributions, drew fierce condemnation from advocacy groups who argued that past service cannot purchase exemption from accountability.
  • South Korea's government has since inspected over 1,500 residential facilities, uncovered dozens of suspected abuse cases, and pledged stronger oversight — but structural barriers including placement shortages, family dependency on institutions, and paperwork-focused inspections remain largely intact.
  • The survivor, now living at home, says she feels at peace for the first time — and her quiet wish, to live in a facility free from sexual violence, stands as both a personal hope and an indictment of the system that failed her.

For nearly a decade, a care home director in Incheon, South Korea, wielded absolute institutional power over intellectually disabled residents, using it to perpetrate repeated sexual violence against people who had no safe adult to turn to and no recognized way to be heard. In October 2026, a court sentenced him to fifteen years in prison — a verdict that answered one question while leaving many others open, among them how many more residents suffered in silence, and why a system designed to protect the vulnerable had instead made them invisible. The case has become a mirror held up to the architecture of care itself: who controls it, who is accountable within it, and whose voice the state is willing to count as testimony.

Seo Mi-hyeon arrived at a police station in early 2025 and, in words that came slowly, described what had been done to her for nearly ten years inside Saekdongwon, a state-run care home in Incheon. The facility's director, identified as Kim, had entered her room at night to rape her repeatedly since 2016. She had told no one — she believed the staff would not help her, and the care home has not disputed that belief. It was only after Kim threw a glass at her during an assault attempt, sending her to hospital, that her mother brought her home and she finally disclosed the abuse.

Police widened their investigation and identified at least two more victims. In October 2026, a Seoul court sentenced Kim to fifteen years in prison for the assaults on Seo and one other resident. For a third victim, the court found him guilty of sexual violence but dropped the rape charge, ruling that investigators could not establish she had been rendered unable to resist — a conclusion disability rights groups condemned as placing an impossible burden on survivors.

A university research team commissioned to assess the facility found signs of potential abuse in at least ten more residents. Most had severe disabilities and faced significant communication barriers; some gave unrelated answers, others gave none at all. The lead researcher told the BBC that investigators had effectively accepted only testimony delivered in complete sentences, leaving those with greater communication needs invisible to the process. A counselling centre advocate asked the essential question: if victims express themselves differently from what the system expects, shouldn't the state work harder to hear them?

The abuse had endured despite laws strengthened in 2011, despite regular inspections by local authorities, and despite an external monitoring team that received no staff reports. A county official acknowledged that inspections had focused on paperwork rather than residents' lived experience. Families who suspected abuse often felt trapped — withdrawing a resident meant assuming full care responsibilities, and alternative placements were scarce, with most people waiting three years or more for a spot.

Thirteen petitions for leniency were submitted to the court, including one from a social welfare organization citing Kim's contributions to the sector. Advocacy groups rejected this framing outright. Disability rights organizations also noted that Kim had required residents to call him 'Dad,' a dynamic the court itself recognized as an exploitation of power — though critics argued the sentence did not fully reflect the scale of harm.

South Korea's prime minister called the case a matter that questioned the state's very purpose. The government inspected more than 1,500 residential facilities, found 33 suspected abuse cases, and opened investigations into eight. Saekdongwon has been ordered to close, though the closure is deferred until its remaining residents are relocated. The foundation operating it has filed a legal challenge.

Seo, now living at home, says she feels at peace. The best thing, she said, is being able to eat and sleep when she chooses. What she wants most is never to have anything to do with Kim again — and, beyond that, for there to be a place where disabled people can simply live without fear.

Seo Mi-hyeon walked into a police station with words that came slowly, shaped by an intellectual disability that made long sentences difficult. "I was hurting inside, so I came to tell my story." What followed was an account of nearly a decade of sexual assault at Saekdongwon, a state-run care home in Incheon where she had lived since 2016.

The director, identified only by his surname Kim, had visited her room at night and in the early hours of the morning to rape her. For almost ten years, this continued. Seo had no safe adult to tell—she believed other staff members would not help her, and the care home has not disputed this claim. She endured in silence until February 2025, when Kim threw a glass at her during an assault attempt. The wound sent her to the hospital. Only then, after her mother brought her home and promised she would not have to return, did Seo find the courage to disclose what had happened.

A police investigation into Seo's account widened to other residents. Investigators identified at least two additional victims. Lee Mi-Na also reported being raped by Kim. A third victim came forward with allegations of sexual violence. In early October 2026, a Seoul court sentenced Kim to 15 years in prison for the assaults on Seo and Lee—five years less than prosecutors had requested. For the third victim, the court found Kim guilty of sexual violence but dropped the rape charge, saying investigators could not establish that "force or threats" had rendered her unable to resist. Kim has denied all allegations and appealed the conviction.

But the case revealed something far darker than three victims. A team from Woosuk University, commissioned by local authorities to assess the facility's residents, found indications that at least ten more residents could have been sexually assaulted by Kim. The court did not address this finding during trial. Police had struggled to identify these potential victims because most residents had severe disabilities and faced communication difficulties. Some gave answers unrelated to questions asked. Others did not respond at all. Jeon Ji-su, the professor who led the research team, told the BBC that investigators had accepted "only the accounts of people who could describe the abuse in complete sentences." This reliance on verbal testimony meant residents with greater communication barriers were effectively invisible to the investigation. Baek In-seong, of Hansahoe, a counselling centre for survivors of sexual violence with disabilities, posed the question plainly: "If victims express their experiences differently from the way we expect, shouldn't the state make a greater effort to hear their voices?"

The case exposed how institutional power had enabled the abuse. Residents were made to call Kim "Dad," a detail prosecutors highlighted to show the unequal relationship between director and those in his care. The court's ruling noted that Kim had "exploited the imbalance of power" despite his professional duty to protect the residents' rights and prevent abuse. Disability rights groups criticized the verdict on the third victim, arguing that a victim's ability to resist should not determine the severity of the charge. They also criticized thirteen petitions submitted to the court seeking leniency for Kim, including one from a social welfare organization that asked the judge to consider his "contribution to the welfare sector." Gyeol, a welfare advocacy group, condemned this reasoning: "Past service in the welfare sector does not exempt anyone from accountability."

The abuse had persisted despite a 2011 strengthening of South Korean laws protecting disabled people from sexual assault—laws passed after public outcry over a film called Dogani, which depicted abuse at a school for deaf children. It had also persisted despite regular inspections by Ganghwa County, the local authority overseeing the facility. A county official acknowledged that inspections focused largely on paperwork and that residents were interviewed only when specific issues arose. An external monitoring team had received no reports from staff. The official expressed regret that authorities had not examined the situation more closely.

Why had families not raised concerns earlier? Jo Ha, a representative from a counselling centre supporting victims, said some families had suspected abuse but felt unable to act. Withdrawing a resident from a facility meant the family would assume all care responsibilities. Finding alternative placements was difficult—a national survey found that around six in ten people who secured a residential placement had waited at least three years. Professor Kim Yoon-tae noted that such facilities exercise total control over residents' lives: what they eat, where they sleep, their access to healthcare, whether they can go outside. The case was not isolated. In 2023, a worker received an eight-year sentence for raping or sexually assaulting two women with intellectual disabilities at another facility. In a separate case, a care home worker was recently sentenced to six years for repeatedly raping a female resident in 2022. "The violence women with disabilities experience is not an individual problem," Jo said. "It is structural violence, shaped by overlapping layers of gender, disability, institutionalisation, poverty and social isolation."

South Korea's prime minister ordered the formation of a cross-government response team, calling the incident "a grave matter that calls into question the very reason for the state's existence." In April, the government inspected 1,507 residential facilities nationwide and identified 33 suspected cases of abuse. Investigations have been opened into eight. The government said it would strengthen targeted inspections and conduct joint inspections involving local authorities, police, and disability rights agencies. Ganghwa County ordered Saekdongwon to close and revoked the licence of the foundation that operated it, though the closure has been deferred until the 33 remaining residents are relocated and independent living arrangements are completed. Saekdongwon has filed an administrative lawsuit challenging the licence revocation.

When asked what had changed most since leaving the facility, Seo said simply: "I just feel at peace. I'm happy every day." The best thing was being able to eat and sleep when she wanted. What she wanted most was "to cut ties with the director completely and never have anything to do with him again." But she also spoke to a deeper need: "I hope there can be a facility without sexual violence, where disabled people like us can live in peace."

I was hurting inside, so I came to tell my story.
— Seo Mi-hyeon, to police
The violence women with disabilities experience is not an individual problem. It is structural violence, shaped by overlapping layers of gender, disability, institutionalisation, poverty and social isolation.
— Jo Ha, counselling centre representative
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