Over 300 South Korean workers touched down at Incheon International Airport on Friday, wrapping up a week of high-stakes drama triggered by a sweeping U.S. immigration crackdown in Georgia.
The Korean Air charter ferried back 310 out of the 475 nabbed at the Hyundai-LG battery plant construction site, the heftiest single-location bust since President Donald Trump's comeback and his vow to ramp up border controls.
Cheering crowds of officials and relatives welcomed the masked arrivals, who included a smattering of non-Koreans: 10 Chinese, three Japanese, and one Indonesian national.
Through vigorous diplomacy, Seoul wrested a voluntary repatriation deal, sidestepping outright expulsions and looming five-year U.S. re-entry prohibitions.
Graphic footage of the detainees in handcuffs and leg irons ignited fury across South Korea, framing the action as a slap to a powerhouse economic partner pouring billions into American soil.
Airport demonstrators unfurled banners skewering Washington for beckoning capital inflows while handcuffing the experts sent to build them.
One placard blared: “You told us to invest, only to arrest us! Is this how you treat an ally?”
Surveys reveal 60 percent public disapproval, forging unusual bipartisan scorn from Seoul's leaders.
President Lee Jae-myung deemed the raid “bewildering” and flagged risks to overseas ventures, advocating streamlined visas for deal-driven sojourns.
The detentions are set to stall the $4.3 billion Georgia outpost by two to three months, a cornerstone of a $7.6 billion electric vehicle battery hub eyed for late-year launch.
Trade unions like the Korean Confederation blasted it as a human rights outrage, demanding Trump's mea culpa and mulling a freeze on Stateside outlays.
To mend visa snags that nudge firms into regulatory shadows, South Korea's top envoy floated a bilateral task force for tailored short-stint permits aimed at Korean pros.
Presidential aide Kang Hoon-sik, on hand for the touchdown, said: "We're in an age of new normal in dealing with the United States."
He elaborated: "The standard changes every time and constantly there has to be deal-making, not only on tariffs, but it'll also be the case with security issues."
Lingering clouds hang over a nascent $350 billion pact to juice U.S. strategic sectors, as the flap tests alliance sinews.
In outreach, Trump floated keeping the crew onshore to school locals, nodding to their pivotal know-how in firing up factories.
Subcontractor engineer Jang Young-seol demurred: "Nobody is going to stay and work when it's like this."
LG Energy specialist Choi Young-hee relived the September 4 horror, when joint forces from immigration, FBI, and ATF slapped on the bonds, turning a presumed routine into raw dread.
Tearful airport embraces laid bare the personal toll, as the dust settles on an episode exposing fissures in a bedrock partnership.
This unified Korean backlash — the sole front uniting fractious factions — signals potential chill on future cross-Pacific bets, just as Trump courts foreign factories.
With talks churning on bespoke visas and trade sweeteners, the duo eyes recalibration, but trust's erosion from chained allies' visuals may linger long in boardrooms and ballot boxes.