CHICAGO (AP) — Illinois has one of the nation’s worst problems with child sex abuse at juvenile detention centers, attorneys representing more than 900 survivors who have filed lawsuits said Wednesday.
Dozens of complaints, including several filed this week in Chicago, allege decades of systemic abuse of children by the employees of detention facilities. Similar lawsuits have popped up in states including Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, but Illinois stands out for the volume of cases that began piling up last year and the lackluster response from state leaders, according to attorneys.
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One of sexual assault survivor Michael Moss wipes his eyes as he listens to Jerome Block, partner, Levy & Konigsberg LLP, during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
Jerome Block, partner, Levy & Konigsberg LLP, right, talks to media as attorney Kristen Feden, 1st left, listens to him during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
One sexual assault survivor Michael Moss, center, talks to media as Jerome Block, partner, Levy & Konigsberg LLP, left, and attorney Kristen Feden listen to him during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
One of sexual assault survivor Kate-Lynn (first name only), cries as she talks to media during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
One of sexual assault survivor Kate-Lynn (first name only), wipes his face after talking to media during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
“The scale and the magnitude and the severity of these cases are some of the worst we’ve seen all over the United States,” Jerome Block, an attorney who has filed lawsuits nationwide, said at a news conference.
The latest Illinois complaints, filed Tuesday, represent 107 people who experienced abuse as children at 10 centers statewide. Some have since closed. The lawsuits allege abuse from the mid-1990s to 2018, including rape, forced masturbation and beatings by chaplains, counselors, officers and kitchen supervisors.
The Associated Press does not typically name people who say they were sexually assaulted unless they consent to being identified or decide to tell their stories publicly, as some who have filed lawsuits have done. Most plaintiffs are identified by initials in the lawsuits.
Survivor Kate-Lynn, who appeared at a Chicago news conference, said she only felt comfortable speaking publicly using her first name. The Illinois woman, now 26, said she was held in solitary confinement at a suburban Chicago facility for a year when she was 14. She said she was sexually and physically abused by at least five staff members who came into her cell and stripped her naked.
As she spoke, a fellow survivor who also planned to speak became overcome with emotion and left the room. He didn't return.
Kate-Lynn said she has been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and anxiety.
“Going to public places is very hard for me,” she said, wiping tears at times. “I feel like I 'm going to be attacked when dealing with authority figures."
The lawsuits, first filed in May 2024, and they are slowly making their way through the courts.
Two lawsuits against the state — representing 83 people — were filed in the Illinois Court of Claims and seek damages of roughly $2 million per plaintiff, the most allowed under law. Separate lawsuits representing 24 people held as children at a Chicago center, were filed in Cook County and seek more than $100,000 per plaintiff.
Illinois Attorney General Kwame Raoul, who represents the state, has tried to dismiss the cases in court.
Raoul, whose office has investigated church sex abuse cases, declined to comment Wednesday as did officials with the Department of Juvenile Justice and Cook County. The lawsuits also name the state of Illinois and the Department of Corrections. Officials for the governor's office and Corrections did not return messages Wednesday.
While the number of lawsuits grows, few cases have gone to trial or resulted in settlements. Arrests are infrequent.
Many alleged offenders are not named in the lawsuits, represented by initials or physical descriptions as the plaintiffs remembered them. There are several alleged repeat offenders, including a corrections officer who currently serves as a small-town Illinois mayor and was accused separately by 15 people. He has denied the allegations.
Attorneys have called for legislative hearings, outside monitors, victim input and criminal charges by local authorities. Block has also harshly criticized Illinois leaders, including Raoul, saying there is a double standard for the abuse victims juvenile detention centers versus church abuse victims.
“When it's the state who perpetrated the abuse, when it's state employees who perpetrated the abuse rather than Catholic priests, the attorney general doesn't want to support the survivors,” he said.
Horrific accounts are detailed in the hundreds of pages of complaints. Many plaintiffs said their abusers threatened them with violence, solitary confinement and longer sentences if they reported the abuse. Others were given fast food, candy, cigarettes or the chance to play videos games if they kept quiet.
Another survivor, a 40-year-old Texas man identified in the lawsuit by the initials J.B. 2, said he was abused when he was 14 years old and staying a facility in St. Charles, which is outside Chicago. He issued a statement through attorneys.
“I want to let my fellow survivors know that we are not alone in this,” he wrote. “Speaking your truth, no matter how gruesome it is, it can help to set you free from yourself and all the hurt that's been bottled up.”
One of sexual assault survivor Michael Moss wipes his eyes as he listens to Jerome Block, partner, Levy & Konigsberg LLP, during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
Jerome Block, partner, Levy & Konigsberg LLP, right, talks to media as attorney Kristen Feden, 1st left, listens to him during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
One sexual assault survivor Michael Moss, center, talks to media as Jerome Block, partner, Levy & Konigsberg LLP, left, and attorney Kristen Feden listen to him during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
One of sexual assault survivor Kate-Lynn (first name only), cries as she talks to media during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
One of sexual assault survivor Kate-Lynn (first name only), wipes his face after talking to media during a news conference in Chicago, Wednesday, July 16, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)
A group of Buddhist monks and their rescue dog are striding single file down country roads and highways across the South, captivating Americans nationwide and inspiring droves of locals to greet them along their route.
In their flowing saffron and ocher robes, the men are walking for peace. It's a meditative tradition more common in South Asian countries, and it's resonating now in the U.S., seemingly as a welcome respite from the conflict, trauma and politics dividing the nation.
Their journey began Oct. 26, 2025, at a Vietnamese Buddhist temple in Texas, and is scheduled to end in mid-February in Washington, D.C., where they will ask Congress to recognize Buddha’s day of birth and enlightenment as a federal holiday. Beyond promoting peace, their highest priority is connecting with people along the way.
“My hope is, when this walk ends, the people we met will continue practicing mindfulness and find peace,” said the Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara, the group’s soft-spoken leader who is making the trek barefoot. He teaches about mindfulness, forgiveness and healing at every stop.
Preferring to sleep each night in tents pitched outdoors, the monks have been surprised to see their message transcend ideologies, drawing huge crowds into churchyards, city halls and town squares across six states. Documenting their journey on social media, they — and their dog, Aloka — have racked up millions of followers online. On Saturday, thousands thronged in Columbia, South Carolina, where the monks chanted on the steps of the State House and received a proclamation from the city's mayor, Daniel Rickenmann.
At their stop Thursday in Saluda, South Carolina, Audrie Pearce joined the crowd lining Main Street. She had driven four hours from her village of Little River, and teared up as Pannakara handed her a flower.
“There’s something traumatic and heart-wrenching happening in our country every day,” said Pearce, who describes herself as spiritual, but not religious. “I looked into their eyes and I saw peace. They’re putting their bodies through such physical torture and yet they radiate peace.”
Hailing from Theravada Buddhist monasteries across the globe, the 19 monks began their 2,300 mile (3,700 kilometer) trek at the Huong Dao Vipassana Bhavana Center in Fort Worth.
Their journey has not been without peril. On Nov. 19, as the monks were walking along U.S. Highway 90 near Dayton, Texas, their escort vehicle was hit by a distracted truck driver, injuring two monks. One of them lost his leg, reducing the group to 18.
This is Pannakara's first trek in the U.S., but he's walked across several South Asian countries, including a 112-day journey across India in 2022 where he first encountered Aloka, an Indian Pariah dog whose name means divine light in Sanskrit.
Then a stray, the dog followed him and other monks from Kolkata in eastern India all the way to the Nepal border. At one point, he fell critically ill and Pannakara scooped him up in his arms and cared for him until he recovered. Now, Aloka inspires him to keep going when he feels like giving up.
“I named him light because I want him to find the light of wisdom,” Pannakara said.
The monk's feet are now heavily bandaged because he's stepped on rocks, nails and glass along the way. His practice of mindfulness keeps him joyful despite the pain from these injuries, he said.
Still, traversing the southeast United States has presented unique challenges, and pounding pavement day after day has been brutal.
“In India, we can do shortcuts through paddy fields and farms, but we can’t do that here because there are a lot of private properties,” Pannakara said. “But what’s made it beautiful is how people have welcomed and hosted us in spite of not knowing who we are and what we believe.”
In Opelika, Alabama, the Rev. Patrick Hitchman-Craig hosted the monks on Christmas night at his United Methodist congregation.
He expected to see a small crowd, but about 1,000 people showed up, creating the feel of a block party. The monks seemed like the Magi, he said, appearing on Christ’s birthday.
“Anyone who is working for peace in the world in a way that is public and sacrificial is standing close to the heart of Jesus, whether or not they share our tradition,” said Hitchman-Craig. “I was blown away by the number of people and the diversity of who showed up.”
After their night on the church lawn, the monks arrived the next afternoon at the Collins Farm in Cusseta, Alabama. Judy Collins Allen, whose father and brother run the farm, said about 200 people came to meet the monks — the biggest gathering she’s ever witnessed there.
“There was a calm, warmth and sense of community among people who had not met each other before and that was so special,” she said.
Long Si Dong, a spokesperson for the Fort Worth temple, said the monks, when they arrive in Washington, plan to seek recognition of Vesak, the day which marks the birth and enlightenment of the Buddha, as a national holiday.
“Doing so would acknowledge Vesak as a day of reflection, compassion and unity for all people regardless of faith,” he said.
But Pannakara emphasized that their main goal is to help people achieve peace in their lives. The trek is also a separate endeavor from a $200 million campaign to build towering monuments on the temple’s 14-acre property to house the Buddha’s teachings engraved in stone, according to Dong.
The monks practice and teach Vipassana meditation, an ancient Indian technique taught by the Buddha himself as core for attaining enlightenment. It focuses on the mind-body connection — observing breath and physical sensations to understand reality, impermanence and suffering. Some of the monks, including Pannakara, walk barefoot to feel the ground directly and be present in the moment.
Pannakara has told the gathered crowds that they don't aim to convert people to Buddhism.
Brooke Schedneck, professor of religion at Rhodes College in Memphis, Tennessee, said the tradition of a peace walk in Theravada Buddhism began in the 1990s when the Venerable Maha Ghosananda, a Cambodian monk, led marches across war-torn areas riddled with landmines to foster national healing after civil war and genocide in his country.
“These walks really inspire people and inspire faith,” Schedneck said. “The core intention is to have others watch and be inspired, not so much through words, but through how they are willing to make this sacrifice by walking and being visible.”
On Thursday, Becki Gable drove nearly 400 miles (about 640 kilometers) from Cullman, Alabama, to catch up with them in Saluda. Raised Methodist, Gable said she wanted some release from the pain of losing her daughter and parents.
“I just felt in my heart that this would help me have peace,” she said. “Maybe I could move a little bit forward in my life.”
Gable says she has already taken one of Pannakara’s teachings to heart. She’s promised herself that each morning, as soon as she awakes, she’d take a piece of paper and write five words on it, just as the monk prescribed.
“Today is my peaceful day.”
Freelance photojournalist Allison Joyce contributed to this report.
Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Buddhist monks who are participating in the, "Walk For Peace," get lunch Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Aloka rests with Buddhist monks who are participating in the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
A sign is seen greeting the Buddhist monks who are participating in the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Supporters pray with Buddhist monks who are participating in the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Supporters watch Buddhist monks who are participating in the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
A Buddhist monk ties a prayer bracelet around the wrist of Josey Lee, 2-months-old, during the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Bhikkhu Pannakara, a spiritual leader, speaks to supporters during the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Buddhist monks participate in the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Buddhist monks participate in the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Bhikkhu Pannakara leads other buddhist monks in the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Audrie Pearce greets Buddhist monks who are participating in the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Bhikkhu Pannakara, a spiritual leader, speaks to supporters during the, "Walk For Peace," Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Buddhist monks who are participating in the, "Walk For Peace," arrive in Saluda, Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
Buddhist monks who are participating in the, "Walk For Peace," are seen with their dog, Aloka, Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026, in Saluda, S.C. (AP Photo/Allison Joyce)
