On the morning of October 17, a Korean Air charter flight, KE9689, prepared for takeoff at Techo International Airport in Cambodia.
All 64 passengers were handcuffed and escorted by Korean police officers.
Under Korean law, a chartered aircraft operated by the government is treated as national territory — and on board, arrest warrants were executed.
When the plane landed at Incheon International Airport the following day, the passengers were immediately dispersed to police stations across the country.
Once called “victims,” they have now returned as suspects.
The repatriation began after the death of Park Min-ho, a Korean university student who was reportedly tortured to death in August at a scam center near Bokor Mountain in Cambodia.
His death forced the Korean government to act.
On October 14, President Lee Jae-myung instructed his cabinet:
“Take every possible measure to ensure the safety of our citizens overseas.”
It was more than a diplomatic statement — it was the government’s first official intervention in the growing scandal of Korean nationals detained in Cambodian cyber-fraud compounds.
The next day, the government designated parts of Cambodia as “Code Black” no-travel zones.
On October 16, Vice Foreign Minister Kim Ji-na flew to Phnom Penh and met with Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Manet.
By the morning of the 17th, the Korean Air charter had departed, carrying the 64 Koreans home — an unusually swift diplomatic operation.
Behind this rapid response, however, circulated several unconfirmed theories.
Some claimed that Seoul hinted at a review of its USD 1.2 billion Official Development Assistance (ODA) loan program to Cambodia.
Others speculated that Korea’s talks to expand defense-industry cooperation with Thailand, Cambodia’s historical rival, had influenced Phnom Penh’s sudden cooperation.
No official confirmation exists, yet diplomacy often moves through signals left unspoken.
For a country that had delayed for months to act, Cambodia’s overnight reversal is difficult to explain without such background whispers.
Inside the scam centers, the reality was brutal.
Recruited through fake job ads, Koreans were confined, beaten, and forced to conduct voice-phishing operations targeting their own compatriots.
Those who failed to meet quotas were beaten, injected with drugs, or worse — some died under torture.
It was a system of exploitation disguised as opportunity, a hellish workplace for those already cornered by poverty.
Many defrauded Korean victims lost over USD 20,000 each to these schemes.
When the story first broke in Korea, public outrage was immediate.
People believed the victims were innocent travelers kidnapped by foreign gangs.
But as details emerged, the truth proved far more complicated.
Many of the detained Koreans had voluntarily joined the criminal operations, lured by ads promising
“Earn USD 10,000 a month — no experience needed.”
They were the jobless, the indebted, and the desperate — people willing to risk everything for one last chance to make money.
In the end, they went abroad to commit crimes, only to be enslaved by worse criminals.
Such atrocities had been occurring for years, but only now drew national attention.
Some of the detained Koreans were rescued by Korean missionaries and local merchants, often at their own expense.
According to reports, Cambodian police conducted “pinpoint rescues” only when the exact name, coordinates, and video evidence of the victim were provided —
and most of the rescue costs were covered by civilians, not by authorities.
On the ground, it was an open secret that police and syndicates were deeply intertwined.
After the crackdown, the scam towers in Phnom Penh’s Renchin district were found deserted.
The organizations had packed their servers and fled to neighboring countries.
This incident is not merely a “Cambodian problem.”
The crimes took place in Cambodia, but the victims were Korean, and the syndicates were global.
International crime networks used Cambodia as a base, recruiting Koreans to defraud fellow Koreans —
a transnational web of exploitation linking multiple countries and economies.
The 64 who returned now face prosecution at home.
They wore handcuffs when they landed, but at least they are alive — and safe.
The question remains: what drove them there in the first place?
Behind the borderless greed and collapsing morality lie deeper shadows of Korean society —
unstable jobs, debt-ridden youth, and the relentless hunger for quick money.
The Cambodian government has pledged further repatriations,
and Seoul has begun tightening crackdowns on deceptive overseas-recruitment ads.
But the essence of this tragedy cannot be solved by law enforcement alone.
On the surface, it is a “successful repatriation.”
Underneath, it is a mirror reflecting desperation, exploitation,
and a system that feeds on the vulnerable.
They may have broken the law,
but perhaps they have now learned how far the nation will go to bring its people home.
May that memory quietly stir their conscience —
and give them the time to face themselves once more.
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By Sunjae Park
Editor, Korea Insight Weekly
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