Juveniles Beyond the Law (1)
“What bullshit! You held back because they’re juveniles exempt from punishment? Why, you think you’re safe if you fight back?”
BAM!
“Shut the fuck up, you little shit!”
Detective Choi slammed the file folder down on his desk.
“Yes, sir, I completely understand how the victim feels. Any other damages?”
“Our convenience store part-timer’s getting treatment at a psych ward right now. Such a hardworking kid, and those bastards... They snatched his phone and groped him too!”
“Flat as a board and she bitches like it’s a big deal. Fucking slut.”
The tattooed punk on the back of his hand snickered.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut it? You know where you are?”
Detective Choi’s fist trembled violently.
“Whoa, so scary! Cop’s gonna beat up some juveniles.”
Detective Choi shook his head in disbelief and sank back into his chair. He stared only at the victim, ignoring the punks as if they made him nauseous just to look at.
“He needs to focus on treatment for now. No word from the perpetrators’ parents?”
The veins in the store owner’s neck throbbed.
“Word? They turned a person into this and not one apology from so-called parents!”
* * *
I called out to Detective Choi as he turned away with a deep sigh. That brief interrogation had aged him ten years.
“Good work.”
“Oh! Lieutenant Kang Cheol-gu.”
“Those kids aren’t first-timers, are they?”
“First-timers?!”
Detective Choi spat in frustration, flecks of saliva flying.
“That ringleader’s gotten protective dispositions eighteen times already. More court appearances than years lived. Two months ago, they even raped a sixth-grade elementary girl walking home.”
“Total scum.”
“Right? But with the law like this, what can we do? We can’t punish them. We can’t...”
He let out another heavy sigh of frustration.
“How’s the case assignment?”
“Assignment? What’s there to assign when we can’t punish them? We just take their statements, give a warning, and send ’em home nice and easy... Victim’s the only one who suffers.”
“So no assignment, huh... Mind if I talk to them?”
I clenched and unclenched my fist, asking calmly.
“Well, no reason not to... But steer clear if you can. You’ll get stress sickness! Stress sickness!”
That’s when it happened.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re grabbing? I’m taking my kid home, got it?! You wanna go down for sexual assault?”
A woman with cheap permed hair and heavy makeup was tussling with the cops. Her overpowering perfume wafted all the way over. She didn’t look like she held down a normal job.
“Ah, fuck, why’d she have to show up? It’s nothing major...”
One of the punks who’d been mocking Detective Choi earlier brushed off his clothes and stood up.
“My baby, is Dong-sik okay? Anywhere hurt?”
“Listen! Don’t you get the situation? Your son assaulted someone and damaged property. Victim’s got an eight-week prognosis—could even go blind. You’re the parent; show some damn responsibility!”
Another cop, fed up, raised his voice and undid a shirt button.
“Kids do stupid shit sometimes! What’s with intimidating them over that?”
The permed woman lifted her chin, staring the cop down.
“...A test is needed.”
The words slipped out of me unbidden. I’d muttered low, but the office went dead silent.
“Hey! What test? Who the hell are you? A cop?”
The hesitant woman snapped to and charged at me.
“Didn’t you hear? A test is needed.”
“What, you talking down to me now? You a cop or—”
I grabbed her collar and pulled her face close.
“Cop my ass! You’re here under investigation for repeated assaults on women and children. Curious why? Wanna see what kind of guy I am?”
I growled as menacingly as possible, gripping the kid’s mom’s throat like a delinquent. The woman, who’d been snarling at cops moments ago, went utterly quiet. She clamped her mouth shut and avoided my eyes.
This is how it works. They know cops can’t rough up civilians. They know men can’t just hit women. So they wield that flimsy fragility like a shield to bulldoze their way through.
Fragility and ignorance aren’t crimes, sure—but they’re no weapons either.
“Listen up. Curious what test? A parenting qualification exam! Anyone can pop out kids and call themselves parents. That’s a crime too. Got it? The shit you spawned screwing each other is polluting the world right now!”
Her lips twitched like she wanted to retort, but dropped when our eyes met.
“H-Hey, aren’t there cops here? Do something about this guy...”
She begged the cops she’d ignored moments before.
Thud. Thud.
Footsteps approached. Team Leader Hwang winked at me as he neared, shaking his head like he couldn’t rein me in.
“Hey, you! What the hell you doing in the middle of writing statements? Causing a scene here too? Assault in a police station means aggravated charges, you know that? Get it together!”
Hwang grabbed my wrist, pried it off her collar, and dragged me into the office. Sharp guy—reads the room perfectly. But did he have to grab my nape like that? Made me look bad...
Other detectives snickered at me bent over like a shrimp being hauled off. I caught a low murmur: “That team’s all actors.”
Juveniles exempt from punishment... Meaning the law can’t touch ’em.
Even as Hwang dragged me away, my lips curled up.
* * *
I drove to the Seoul Yeongbu Detention Center. Wonder if the guys were doing okay? Picturing those rough, rugged bastards with their manly stench brought a smirk to my face.
“Visitation starting. This way, please.”
I followed the uniformed guard. I’d applied as counsel—civilians get ten minutes with full recording. Lawyers? No time or count limits, no recording. I wasn’t one, but as an active cop on official business, I got the exception.
Detention visiting room. Thanks to my rep from nabbing Yoo Hyeong-cheol, they hooked me up with a smoking-allowed spot.
“You come a lot, hyungnim. Gimme a smoke.”
“I ain’t your hyungnim. Call me Detective. You punks.”
“Haha, this hyungnim’s a total tsundere. That’s why I like ya—not like other cops.”
“Anyway, stay clean. Your sentences are short; you’ll adjust fine out there.”
The guys squinted against the dizzying smoke from smokes they hadn’t had in ages. The punks I’d busted my first day on the job.
“Still, thanks on one hand, hyungnim.”
“Me too. Seeing all these small-timers here, getting nabbed early and straightening out feels like a blessing.”
“Yeah. Kept at it, and I’d end up no different from the old-timers in our cell.”
Oh Tae-seok nodded. Turns out he was barely nineteen. Had loyalty, knew remorse. I’d slipped ’em some outside grub a few times, and we’d bonded like bros.
Park Hyeong-jun was the boxer. His downfall started when his national tournament opponent’s dad—a boxing federation board member—rigged a match he’d dominated. Protested the fix? Lost his pro status. Tae-seok, the wrestler, quit alongside his buddy. That’s how they fell into back-alley life.
“When you’re out, come find me. I’ll hook you up with jobs. Oh, and one favor.”
I handed over another cig and got to it.
“Anything for hyungnim.”
“Need one or two sharp kids who work out. Young ones.”
“Not like hyungnim needs kiddie muscle for your skills. What’s up?”
Hyeong-jun’s eyes went wide.
“Heard of juveniles exempt from punishment?”
“Kids under fourteen, right? Why?”
“Troublemaker’s one, so I can’t get close. Better to use peers for intel...”
They exchanged looks, and Hyeong-jun spoke up.
“Hyeok. Ma Hyeok’d work.”
“Yeah, no kid his age can touch Hyeok.”
Tae-seok narrowed his eyes, picturing it.
“Who’s Ma Hyeok?”
“My middle school sophomore underclassman. Boxing prodigy.”
“One enough? Opponents are four or five.”
“Haha, ask him that. Just don’t kill ’em. Kid was that good even young.”
“Your skills? You went down in one to me. Pretty shitty...”
I teased back with a grin, but Hyeong-jun was legit skilled. If he vouched like that, trustworthy.
“Hyungnim.”
He dropped the smile, face serious. A muscle twitched by his eye.
“Hyeok’s got it to conquer boxing world if he doesn’t go astray. But he’s been lost lately. I’m in no spot to preach, so I’m asking you—guide him right! We’re enough fuckups. Let him shine in the light.”
A man’s earnest plea: Live the dream I couldn’t through someone I cherish. Don’t repeat my mistakes.
* * *
Hyeonjeong-dong, hilltown slums of Seoul. 35-degree average incline—even a Jeep struggles up the alleys. At an old hole-in-the-wall shop, a grandma fanned away flies.
[Ga-hyeon PC Bang]
The faded sign, over a decade old, swayed precariously in the wind. Wooden stairs creaked underfoot.
PC bang thick with cig smoke. Hyeong-jun said he came here often... I clutched the photo he gave me, scanning for the kid.
Then a pack of students shoved my shoulder, stampeding out. Did a high schooler just shoulder-check me? I smirked, watching—last in line looked familiar. Still baby-faced: Ma Hyeok.
I quietly followed up the stairs after them. Murmurs mixed with the musty scent of the old building buzzed in my ears.
“So, you half-kill that one guy, pay’s same as last time... Deal?”
“Opponent’s different this time. School’s top dog, right? No hazard pay, no go.”
“Ha! Look at this punk. Talking back to hyungs ’cause you think you’re hot shit?”
“Wanna see that hot shit skill? Can do it right now... Free of charge.”
A gulp and low curse followed.