A police investigator gathers personal belongings of victims of a deadly crowd accident in an alley in Seoul's Itaewon, early Oct. 30, a little over two hours after the accident occurred. / Korea Times photo by Jon Dunbar

By Jon Dunbar

When I first heard what was going on in Itaewon on Saturday night, I didn't know what to believe. Someone showed me a video of emergency workers performing CPR on a row of nearly naked young women lying in the street, while the party seemed to be continuing in the background, and I didn't think it could be real.

I was at a Halloween event in nearby Haebangchon at the time, which also had surprisingly huge crowds that night, but nowhere near as unmanageable as Itaewon. People around me were speculating wildly based on breaking news articles, which also had conflicting information about the seriousness of the incident. Were there deaths? Why were victims initially only reported as suffering cardiac arrest? The prevailing narrative was that there was a stampede toward or inside one bar where a celebrity had been rumored to be making an appearance. One friend read somewhere that someone had released aerosolized fentanyl in an enclosed space. I even heard speculation maybe it was some kind of attack. Everyone wanted to know: who was to blame? There were also concerns that, since Itaewon is an area known for its foreignness, as is Halloween itself, the fallout might hit foreign communities the hardest.

So I removed my Halloween mask, put on my Korea Times lanyard and went to see for myself. Due to heavy crowds and traffic control, I went up past the Hyatt and descended toward the area of the incident, and before I knew it, I was among the masses.

The roads toward Itaewon Station were heavily controlled by police to make way for emergency vehicles, and the sidewalks surged with Halloween revelers. The closer I came to the Hamilton Hotel, the more I saw people looking concerned, checking their phones ― or trying to, as phone service was unreliable in the area.

It was around 12:30 a.m. when I arrived, two hours after the incident, and what exactly had happened was not evident. There were no bodies in the street, at least. I ducked inside the Hamilton Hotel, and ended taking a side exit to the alley on its western side.

Little did I know, I was behind the police line, overlooking the exact site of the tragic accident. Personal belongings of victims lined the edges of the alley, as investigators sorted through the hundreds of shoes, clothes, costumes and bags left behind. Uphill, investigators were gathering recovered phones in a pile, some of which were ringing.

Standing right behind the police tape, a young foreign woman was watching anxiously. I approached her for comment, thinking maybe she had seen what had happened. It turned out that she'd been part of it.

She'd come with friends, all foreign teachers visiting from out of town, and the incident began not five minutes after they arrived. As the crowd surged, she was separated from her friends and buried underneath others. She told me she thought she was going to die as she blacked out, but she regained consciousness sometime later. She ended up stuck in the alley behind the police tape, having lost her phone, her ID, her purse, her money, everything she needed to find her friends and get to safety. But police weren't letting her retrieve her items, even though she could see some of them being sorted. Without her things, she had nowhere else to go.

We had no idea at the time that we were witnessing police and other emergency forces pushed to unprecedented new extremes. They were unhelpful at first, when asked if she could retrieve her items and if there was some place where she could take shelter with other survivors. Eventually, one police investigator told us with compassion in her voice that they wanted to help, but all items were being collected for evidence and would be returned after a few days.

So, we wandered away and managed to find her friends, who shared a teary group hug together and then brought her back to their hostel ― quite a trek as the subways had ended and there were no taxis available.

At the time, I thought her story was unique and needed to be told. But since then, countless other survivors and witnesses ― as well as people who weren't there but have had valid comments ― have spoken up.

Since that night, we've all been watching the death toll rise, and the nationalities of victims broaden as victims are identified. One statistic that rose was the number of "missing" person enquiries ―4,400 as of Sunday ― as people try frantically to contact their loved ones and friends they know were in Itaewon that night. It's likely some were caught in the crush but escaped without major injury and simply left the scene. Maybe some of them lost their belongings, leaving them without means of contact or unable to get home. Hopefully they are all safe and have been in contact with those looking for them.

A tent is set up to provide on-site mental health counseling in the Korean language, next to the Itaewon disaster memorial in Seoul Plaza, Monday. / Korea Times photo by Jon Dunbar

As the nation mourns for the dead this week, we should also be mindful of those who have lived through this ordeal ― survivors of the incident, as well as the emergency responders including paramedics, firefighters, police and even civilian bystanders who helped and who all certainly endured immeasurable emotional trauma. It even includes the countless other people present in the area at the time, many of whom continued partying while unaware of the seriousness of the disaster and may be feeling extra guilt now ― we should withhold judgment. And maybe we should all look around our social circles and local communities for any vulnerable people traumatized by the news or the footage who may be crying out for help.

If your loved ones are missing following the disaster, you should phone Dasan Call Center at 02-120, Hannam-dong Community Service Center or if they're foreign, the relevant embassy.

There are mental health resources for Korean speakers, such as Korea Suicide Prevention Center at 1393 and LifeLine Korea at 1588-9191. Non-Korean speakers could try international services such as the Suicide Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, or visit seoulcounseling.com, therapyroute.com or en.seoulcentralmhc.com for more information.