Illinois is facing a serious crisis involving widespread child sexual abuse at juvenile detention centers, with more than 900 survivors coming forward and filing lawsuits. Hundreds of complaints have exposed a pattern of abuse by staff members, stretching from the mid-1990s to 2018 across multiple facilities throughout the state.
This week, new lawsuits were filed in Chicago representing 107 people who say they were assaulted while in custody at ten different juvenile centers. The accusations include horrifying acts such as rape, forced masturbation, and beatings, reportedly committed by chaplains, counselors, officers, and kitchen supervisors. Some of these centers have since shut down.
The problem isn’t unique to Illinois; other states like Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Maryland have seen similar cases. But Illinois stands out because of the large number of cases emerging recently, and many feel the state’s response has been weak.
One survivor, going by Kate-Lynn at a recent news conference, shared her painful story. She was held in solitary confinement at a suburban facility when she was 14 and told how multiple staff members sexually and physically abused her. Kate-Lynn said she suffers from PTSD and anxiety today and finds public places and interactions with authority figures very difficult.
The lawsuits began in May 2024 and are currently moving through court. Some lawsuits, representing 83 plaintiffs, were filed in the Illinois Court of Claims seeking the maximum compensation allowed by law, about $2 million per person. Others, with 24 survivors from a Chicago center, were filed in Cook County, seeking smaller amounts.
Illinois Attorney General Kwame Raoul, representing the state, has attempted to dismiss the cases. Both his office and other state departments connected with juvenile justice have declined to comment. The governor’s office and Department of Corrections also did not respond to requests for comment.
Despite the growing number of lawsuits, few have gone to trial or produced settlements, and arrests related to these abuses are rare. Many of the alleged abusers in the lawsuits remain unnamed or are only identified by initials. Among the accused is a corrections officer who is now a small-town mayor and has been accused by 15 people but denies the charges.
Advocates and attorneys are pushing for state lawmakers to hold hearings, bring in outside monitors, include victim voices, and support criminal charges. They criticize state leaders for treating abuse by state workers differently than abuse by clergy.
The survivors’ stories are deeply troubling, with many saying they were threatened with violence or longer sentences if they reported the abuse. Others were given small rewards to stay silent.
One man, identified only as J.B. 2, who was abused at a center near Chicago when he was 14, wrote to fellow survivors, saying speaking out can help free them from the pain they carry.
While the road to justice is slow, these lawsuits shed light on a grave problem many believe has been ignored for too long.