Deepfake crisis at schools: Crimes stoke distrust, fear

Illustration by Shin Dong-jun Offenders walk free, victims bear burden as justice falters Editor’s note This article is the first in a three-part series on deepfake sex crimes at schools. The crimes, involving the manipulation of photos and videos to create explicit content, cause distrust and strain relationships between students, and sometimes between pupils and teachers. The series has been produced in collaboration with Excellence Lab, a team dedicated to investigative journalism at The Hankook Ilbo, the sister paper of The Korea Times.

All the names of people involved in the actual deepfake cases in the article are aliases. — ED. By Jung Da-hyun Lee Min-ji, a 17-year-old high school student in Osan, Gyeonggi Province, used to love dancing and performing on stage.



She, however, abandoned her dream of becoming a dancer after becoming a victim of a deepfake sex crime. The nightmare began in February when she received a direct message on Instagram from an unknown "informant." The anonymous sender said explicit images of her were being distributed in a Telegram chatroom.

To gain her trust, the person provided details about the offender, who created the images, and even shared the explicit images. The offender was Kim Ki-tae, an alumnus from her elementary school, who now attends a different high school in the city. Shocked and terrified, she turned to her parents for help.

Without hesitation, they reported the case to the police, hoping for swift action to stop the spread of the images and protect their daughter from further harm. But the message was only the beginning, as the manipulated images of her spread rapidly. They live in a relatively new community in Osan, south of Seoul, where many families settled around the same time.

This shared timeline allowed children to grow up together, forming strong friendships that began in kindergarten. As news of the deepfake images spread, other parents, including one who had moved to a different city, reached out to Lee's mother, voicing their concern for both her daughter and their family. "I even thought those pictures must have spread all over the country by now," the mother told The Korea Times.

A mother of a high school student, whose daughter was victimized by a deepfake crime, shows messages her daughter sent to the offender, asking why he did it, during an interview with The Korea Times and the Hankook Ilbo at her home in Osan, Gyeonggi Province, Oct. 28. Korea Times photo by Park Go-eun What happened to the offender only deepened the victim’s suffering, leading to a more painful situation.

Song Ji-yeon, a close friend of Lee who had attended high school with the perpetrator, struggled to contain her anger as Kim continued to attend school as if nothing had happened. When a mutual friend brought up the deepfake images, Song confronted the perpetrator, angrily using harsh words and cursing at him. In May, after learning about the confrontation, Kim reported Song to the school authorities for bullying.

The school's violence committee upheld the claim, classifying Song's actions as school violence and sentencing her to four hours of community service. In that moment, the offender — who should have faced strict punishment for the deepfake crime — was suddenly portrayed as a victim of school violence. This shift left the true victim and her friend feeling even more isolated and powerless.

At the end of the first semester, Kim, the perpetrator, dropped out of school. Many students, unaware of the full details including the deepfake incident, believed he left after being bullied. After Kim dropped out of school, any chance of him being punished by school authorities was lost for good.

Lee and her parents clung to their last hope in the police investigation, but their hopes were shattered when the outcome fell short of expectations. According to the police, Kim's case was referred to a juvenile trial, which focuses on rehabilitating minors who commit minor offenses. As part of the punishment, the perpetrator was ordered to undergo 30 hours of sex crime prevention training.

If he completes the training, there will be no official record of his crime. Contrary to the offender's 30-hour punishment, Lee has endured nine months of trauma, battling depression. "I’m so worried because my daughter keeps saying she feels small and that she's doing everything wrong," the mother said.

"She has lost all her confidence and even changed her dreams and career plans completely." Lee recently told her mother that she wanted to drop out of school and study on her own. "I understand my daughter, but you can’t go back to your school days once time passes," Lee said, holding back her tears.

"I just hope she gets the chance to create those memories, just like any other normal day...

" gettyimagesbank Crimes committed by acquaintances According to the National Police Agency, 964 cases of deepfake-related sex crimes were reported nationwide from January to Oct. 25. The police caught 506 suspected perpetrators, and 411, or 81.

2 percent, were teenagers. Education authorities also reported that more than 880 students have fallen victim to these crimes. The reality that perpetrators and victims are often acquaintances only deepens the sense of distrust.

An analysis of 105 rulings made under the Act on Special Cases Concerning the Punishment of Sexual Crimes, since the law was established in June 2020 to address deepfake crimes, shows that in 62.9 percent of the cases, the perpetrators and victims were familiar with each other. Kim Tae-kyung, a professor at the Department of Counseling Psychology at Seowon University, explained that when minors are targeted by someone they already know, the emotional impact is often far deeper.

"Deepfake crimes cause greater humiliation compared to other offenses because manipulated images and rumors spread quickly, reaching the victim," he said. "Victims may even begin to blame themselves, thinking they were too naive to have believed the person who hurt them." Illustration by Shin Dong-jun Teachers also impacted Deepfake sex crimes are not only affecting minors but are impacting teachers as well.

Park Han-young, a middle school teacher in Gyeonggi Province, faced a difficult year as she struggled with the burden of being both a teacher and the victim of a deepfake crime. The teacher, who had been teaching since 2013, received chilling news from her colleagues in April 2023. A male student quietly informed one of the teacher's colleagues about explicit deepfake images featuring Park’s face that had been posted online.

Shocked and humiliated, Park suspected that the offender was one of her students. "I was certain it had to be a student because the photo used in the deepfake images had only been shared in a class group chat for remote learning during COVID-19," she said. To uncover the truth, she pleaded with her students to confess, giving them a week to come forward.

But no one did. When she finally reported the case to the police, her hope quickly turned into frustration. "After I submitted my statement, I never heard from the police again, except for a case update in May," she said.

By the end of May, the case was closed, and the perpetrator was never caught. The police said multiple IP addresses had been used, making it impossible to track the offender. With the images deleted from the website, there was nothing more they could do.

The psychological toll was devastating. "I struggled with panic attacks, waking up in the middle of the night sobbing and pounding my pillow in rage," Park described. A psychological evaluation at a support center for teachers revealed dangerously high stress levels.

Yet, she avoided further counseling. "I couldn't bear to retell the story again. It wouldn’t change anything," she said.

Even the school, once a place of safety, had become a minefield. "Every time I walked into class, I found myself wondering, 'Is it that student?’" she said. "Each one started to look like a suspect.

I could feel the seed of doubt growing inside me and kept asking — can I ever trust my students again?" Yet, despite the overwhelming sense of betrayal, she also felt compassion. "I think whoever did it couldn’t confess because they were scared. They are only 15," she said, grappling with the pain of being a victim while still fulfilling her role as an educator.

Seo Hyeon-ju, a sex education activist, highlighted that teachers often feel conflicted about coming forward with their experiences, with many tending to downplay the harm they’ve suffered and hesitating to report incidents. "Teachers are reluctant to report incidents because of the societal expectation that 'you are a teacher before you are a victim.' This pressure makes them feel they must continue teaching the children," Seo explained.

"For female teachers in particular, there’s a pervasive stereotype that they should provide nurturing support, like mothers, which adds to the pressure.".