In 1978, Song, a former judge with a distinctive and unconventional background, made a bold move by starting his own law firm in Busan. His unique journey to passing the bar exam was met with skepticism from many of his peers, who viewed him with contempt. Yet, Song's unwavering determination and ingenuity eventually bore fruit, as he began to take on a myriad of high-profile cases that most shunned, particularly in lucrative real estate and taxation.
Meanwhile, Detective Cha was given directives from the upper echelons of the government to cleanse Busan of those considered to be communist sympathizers, resorting to any means necessary. His approaches often included deceit and manipulation. He was aided by Lieutenant Yoon, a medical officer assigned to a nearby military base, who helped him silence the victims of this oppressive regime.
Fast forward to 1981, Song's reputation had ballooned. He had even purchased a sailboat in anticipation of competing in the prestigious Seoul Olympics. One fateful evening, while sharing a meal with old friends at his preferred restaurant, he engaged in a heated debate with Lee, a journalist who critically questioned the mass media's integrity and supported the ongoing student protests disturbing Busan. This confrontation left a significant impression on Song, yet it was quickly eclipsed by a dire concern: the sudden disappearance of Park, the son of the restaurant's owner.
Desperate for answers, Choi, Park's anguished mother, spent nearly two months searching for her son, only to discover that he and several other students were slated to stand trial for sedition. Disturbed by the looming threat of torture-induced confessions, Song resolved to represent the students. During the trial, he observed grave constitutional violations but was met with staunch opposition from the prosecutors and judges, who proclaimed that standard laws were irrelevant when national security was at stake. The prosecution's case hinged on the notion that the students had studied EH Carr's What Is History?, alleging that it indicated communist leanings. Song fought back by presenting a note from the British consulate verifying Carr's stature as a respected historian and diplomat, not a communist ideologue. To his shock, when Cha testified, he outright denied the students had suffered torture, attributing their injuries to self-harm.
However, when Lt. Yoon bravely stepped forward to testify, the courtroom atmosphere shifted dramatically. With remarkable integrity, he recounted the horrific tortures inflicted upon the students. Unfortunately, Cha was quick to inform his superiors, who spun a false narrative, ultimately pinning the blame on Lt. Yoon for desertion and invalidating his testimony. This led to dire repercussions as Lt. Yoon was promptly incarcerated, leaving the trial in disarray.
The innocence of the students was forever tarnished by the atrocities they endured. By 1987, Song had transformed into a fervent protest leader, propelled by an unquenchable desire for reform. His eventual arrest during a demonstration, where he faced sedition charges, drew an overwhelming show of support — an astounding 99 out of 142 lawyers in Busan united in solidarity, illustrating the undeniable strength of conviction and a steadfast commitment to justice.
Despite the impressive display of solidarity, the underlying issues of free speech and the rule of law continued to simmer ominously, poised to erupt at any moment. As the reverberations of these turbulent times continued to echo, it became increasingly evident that Korea's quest for truth and transparency remains far from complete, leaving a haunting feeling of uncertainty that looms over the nation like a specter waiting to pounce.
