Price of Justice
Yoo Jae-won had expected to face the "Price of Justice" sometime in the early twenty-first century, yet here he was already hearing the name. It was quite amusing. What intrigued him even more was the chain of events that had brought Ma Tae-sik's name into the conversation.
"The chairman's decision to list Android was the decisive factor," Jung Byung-woo reported. "When the judge calculated that 25 billion dollars came to roughly how many Korean won, he turned pale and started spilling everything."
Exactly as Jung had said, the presiding judge had been weighing his options with extreme caution. The entire nation was being dragged into upheaval because of him, and he was carefully balancing the risks of aligning with Ma Tae-sik against those of siding with Yoo Jae-won. If he threw in his lot with Ma Tae-sik and the case passed without incident, his future would be assured. But watching how national affairs were unfolding, the danger seemed far too high. He could be hauled before a National Assembly investigation and subjected to every kind of humiliation, or even forced out of office. On the other hand, if he joined Yoo Jae-won's side, he could retire and enter Kim & Jung Law Firm as a partner. The problem was that while Kim & Jung had greatly enhanced its reputation through the Japanese colonial-era victim lawsuits, it primarily represented ordinary citizens, so the fees were modest. Even as a partner, the annual salary, though in the hundreds of millions of won, felt insufficient compensation for someone who had poured his youth and entire career into the judiciary.
Then came the quiet rumor, passed through Jung Byung-woo, that Yoo Jae-won had paid fifty billion won in legal fees to the partners at Kim & Jung even after losing a case. The presiding judge had gasped. When he heard that the judge was tempted, Jung went further and showed him his own salary account. Seeing the ten-digit figure printed there, the presiding judge could not speak. He fell into deep anguish. And then the news that Android had raised twenty-five billion dollars struck Korea like a thunderbolt. The unimaginable sum left him awestruck, and at the same time he became certain that Yoo Jae-won would not coldly reject his whistleblowing.
"If the chairman promises to look after me afterward, I will make a full whistleblowing statement during the National Assembly investigation," the judge conveyed.
Whistleblowing? Paid whistleblowing? The whole thing was absurd.
"Of course we should. Tell him we promise partner-level treatment. If he wishes, I can speak with him directly."
Yoo Jae-won had no particular desire to point out such minor flaws. On the contrary, the fact that the presiding judge's character leaned toward greed would make resolving the matter quickly much easier.
"Haha, my junior is rather timid, so he might feel burdened if the chairman calls personally."
"Just tell him that resigning immediately after the whistleblowing would not paint the best picture. And that a whistleblowing statement backed by evidence would be even better."
If he became a lawyer and walked straight into Kim & Jung Law Firm, it would look too contrived. Of course, those in high positions already knew that Yoo Jae-won stood behind the Japanese colonial-era victim lawsuits. The general public, however, did not. To convince them, the proper narrative was for the judge to endure every kind of harassment and humiliation within the court system after his whistleblowing, to hold on until he was effectively driven out, and only then to join Kim & Jung Law Firm.
"Yes, I will convey the chairman's concerns as well. Even if he is timid, he is not without sense, so he will understand."
"I will remember your contribution as well, Attorney Jung Byung-woo."
"Oh, I only did what I was supposed to do. I am overwhelmed that you would remember."
Yoo Jae-won did not forget to praise Jung Byung-woo. Within ID Group, any praise from Yoo Jae-won was always reflected in personnel evaluations. In the past he had relayed such matters directly to the HR department; now his personal secretary, who was always at his side, compiled and passed them on. Since Jung Byung-woo was already a partner—the highest position at Kim & Jung Law Firm—the evaluation itself meant little. Nevertheless, a single word of praise from Yoo Jae-won brought a refreshing sense of satisfaction to Jung, who had spent more than ten days shuttling between the courts like his own home and drinking with his juniors late into the night to build connections. It would remain as proof that he had carried out his assigned mission excellently, and he had no doubt that such achievements would become the foundation for even greater tasks in the future.
After finishing his call with Jung Byung-woo, Yoo Jae-won contacted Choi Kang-wook again to discuss follow-up measures. Naturally, he sent Choi the important information he knew about Ma Tae-sik via ID Talk.
In twenty-first-century terms, Ma Tae-sik was the eldest son of a dirt-poor family. As the phrase implied, neither his parents nor his grandfather had any notable record of pro-Japanese collaboration. Such collaboration required education and high position to be done effectively. Instead, the hunger for the money and status he had so desperately lacked had grown enormous within him. He had prepared early for the judicial examination, the only ladder that could turn a commoner into a dragon, and passed it at an exceptionally young age. His desperation far exceeded that of his competitors. Because he had clung to it with everything he had, taking first place was only natural. He could have chosen either judge or prosecutor; naturally, he chose judge. He married immediately after his appointment. It was, of course, an arranged marriage based solely on conditions. The bride's family, which owned a solid business in the provinces, wanted nothing more than a judge for a son-in-law, while Ma Tae-sik saw only their wealth. Thus he immediately joined the upper class.
At the time, the Yushin Constitution dominated, and trials had to be conducted on its basis. While some judges rejected its flawed provisions as far as they could, Ma Tae-sik became an ardent believer in the Yushin Constitution. The regime took notice, and he was assigned major cases. His abilities were recognized, and his promotions came quickly. Wherever Ma Tae-sik passed, tears of blood flowed. The courts were supposed to deliver fair verdicts based on law, principle, and a judge's conscience, yet he wielded the gavel for his own advancement, and innocent victims inevitably multiplied. The fortune he accumulated was enormous. He owned more than a hundred apartments on prime land in Seoul and land in Gyeonggi Province twenty times the size of Yeouido. All of it had been amassed through judicial transactions and improper pressure, carefully and diligently collected. The scale of assets Yoo Jae-won had just recalled was the final amount revealed when Ma Tae-sik later became Chief Justice and the judicial corruption scandal broke. At present, having only recently entered the Court Administration Office, his accumulated wealth would be smaller than what would later be exposed. Still, the record of his having condemned innocent people under the Yushin Constitution remained. There were also numerous instances in which he had accepted requests from his father-in-law's company or other corporations and handed down lenient punishments. Since these were not ancient events, mobilizing the information team to find related evidence would surely turn up leads. At the same time, he was the perfect embodiment of judicial power that had never once been held accountable, betraying the people once again in a great catastrophe.
"Good heavens. We must make an example of this man so that he can never practice law again."
"Of course."
It would be good to add a provision during this opportunity that a judge who has been impeached shall also have his legal qualifications revoked so he cannot practice as an attorney. Yoo Jae-won wanted to make the disqualification permanent if possible, but since the impeachment process could be used to pressure the judiciary and someone might abuse it, he decided a procedure should also be created allowing restoration of legal qualifications once every four years.
"I will move immediately."
"Yes, thank you."
Choi Kang-wook's promise to act at once was deeply reassuring. After hanging up, Yoo Jae-won considered what else he could do to help. Having identified the main culprit, it was important that the National Assembly investigation begin. He picked up his phone again and dialed a number—Prime Minister Jeon Myeong-heon's.
The next day.
—Breaking: Tongil National Party agrees to National Assembly investigation in exchange for passing the new year's budget as originally proposed by the government!
—Democratic Liberal Party seriously considering Tongil National Party's proposal
—Democratic Party: There can be no collusion in the work of restoring national dignity!
When Yoo Jae-won checked the Korean news he looked at every morning, new headlines had appeared. The Tongil National Party was using the new year's budget as leverage to push for a National Assembly investigation. This was exactly what Yoo Jae-won had asked Prime Minister Jeon Myeong-heon to arrange the previous day. If things continued as they were, the budget would not pass until December 31, which meant the investigation would not begin until January of the following year. He had therefore combined the two issues into one.
The 45-trillion-won national budget for 1994 did not seem excessive to Yoo Jae-won. Although there were some concerns about fiscal soundness, he could cover the difference with income tax revenue in 1994—specifically, from the Android listing. Yoo Jae-won planned to sell 49 percent of his 100 percent stake in Android. With an expected market capitalization of 25 billion dollars, his share would be worth 12.25 billion dollars. Since ID Group was a Korean company, it was only natural that the largest portion of income tax would be paid in Korea. A rough calculation put the tax liability at approximately 3.43 billion dollars—about 2.7 trillion won—which would more than cover the shortfall in tax revenue within the national budget.
"The Democratic Party's position is, of course, principled."
What Yoo Jae-won feared most was time. Koreans were sometimes said to have a "pot temperament"—quick to boil and quick to cool. The longer an issue dragged on, the weaker the momentum became. Concentrating public attention was also a task. The media ordinary people encountered were limited to newspapers, weekly magazines, and television—all expensive to maintain. Although Yoo Jae-won was currently concentrating public opinion through enormous funding, there were limits. The internet had been added, but it could only be accessed in front of a computer. If people could use the internet on their phones and internet broadcasting became active, it would be different, but for now it was not a major force. Rather than waiting for things to unfold naturally, the best approach was to resolve them as swiftly as lightning.
"Should I contact the Democratic Party as well?"
As he picked up his phone, Yoo Jae-won realized he still had no contacts within the Democratic Party. It was not that he disliked them; the connection had simply never formed. Instead, he dialed another number—Choi Kang-wook's, the man who handled everything in Korea.
"The Democratic Party currently lacks a central figure. That is why the statements coming from their spokespeople are all over the place. From what I have looked into, their tone is not particularly critical."
As expected, Choi Kang-wook gave a clean explanation. The Democratic Party had always been the party of Kim Dae-jung. After losing two consecutive presidential elections to Roh Tae-woo and Kim Young-sam, however, Kim Dae-jung had announced his retirement from politics and left for study in Britain. Without its central figure, the Democratic Party could no longer boast the powerful cohesion it once had. Instead, the Donggyo-dong faction—Kim Dae-jung's close associates—each claimed to be his successor, yet none stood out. For a politician to distinguish himself, he had to confront the ruling party and lead on political issues or offer exceptional opinions, but Prime Minister Jeon Myeong-heon and the Tongil National Party had already taken that space.
"We will show a dramatic resolution within the next few days."
"Understood."
With Choi Kang-wook's report, Yoo Jae-won could relax and focus on his original work. Until yesterday he had been immersed in coding; now he needed to select the lead underwriter for Android's public listing. Dozens of proposals from investment banks and securities firms had first been filtered by Kevin Johnson, so only six had reached Yoo Jae-won's desk. Even at a glance, the proposals showed great care. Hard covers were standard, and the ID Group and investment bank logos were embossed in gold leaf. Moreover, since Kevin Johnson, president of Android, had personally selected them, the terms were all excellent. According to Kevin Johnson, the investment banks were so aggressive because serving as lead underwriter for a massive IT company like Android would also build their reputation in the IT sector. After all, the investment banks had detected the movements of the super-rich, and any firm with good instincts would make such an offer.
"Lehman Brothers looks decent, at least."
After reviewing the proposals, Yoo Jae-won chose Lehman Brothers, a traditional powerhouse on Wall Street. Each firm had claimed to offer exceptional terms, but when compared side by side, they were all similar. Lehman, however, offered slightly better fees and additional services that differentiated it from the others. Those services included reduced commission rates for stock trading through ID Investment and a dedicated high-quality line for stock transactions. ID Investment had paid a high price to join the international financial data network, yet it still suffered subtle disadvantages. Even on the dedicated line, response times were slightly slower than those of Wall Street veterans such as Goldman Sachs, JP Morgan, and Merrill Lynch. It was the kind of territorial behavior one could not complain about. For now it was not a major issue, since ID Investment's basic approach was long-term holdings of at least six months. However, once supercomputers and artificial intelligence were introduced into stock trading in the near future, transactions would move beyond day trading into second-by-second trades, at which point connection delays could become a problem. It was therefore best to secure a good line while the opportunity existed.
Of course, Lehman Brothers would later fail to survive the financial crisis of the early twenty-first century and collapse under an enormous 600 billion dollars in debt. But that was a distant future; at present it was a solid firm comparable even to Goldman Sachs.
"I wonder how high the stock will rise once it lists."
After informing Kevin Johnson that he had selected Lehman Brothers as the lead underwriter, Yoo Jae-won let his imagination run, dreaming of the moment of the listing.
—Ruling and opposition parties reach agreement on National Assembly investigation into alleged external pressure in Japanese colonial-era victim trials.
Whatever magic Choi Kang-wook had worked, even the Democratic Party, which had opposed any collusion, agreed to the investigation before the day was out. Only then did the Supreme Court, which had shown no reaction until now, finally respond.
—The courts: Trials were conducted without any flaws. Politicians are inflating the controversy!
—The courts: Even if there were suspicions, this is a matter for the prosecution, which has investigative authority, not for politicians.
It seemed they were finally feeling a sense of crisis. But political momentum was already moving swiftly. The budget bill had passed, and the National Assembly investigation preparation committee was promptly convened. The Blue House offered no particular comment. While keeping the promise to Yoo Jae-won was one reason, the calculation was that this issue posed no risk to the Blue House. Of course, if President Kim or the Sangdo-dong faction had been involved, the brakes would have been applied. But there was no connection to the Sangdo-dong group; rather, this was a disaster committed jointly by the old Democratic Justice Party and the Yushin forces. If handled properly, it could even uphold President Kim's famous remark about entering the tiger's den to catch the tiger. There was also one hidden intention on President Kim's part that no one else knew: by properly resolving this incident and weakening the power of the former Democratic Justice Party members, the upcoming liquidation of the Fifth Republic would proceed much more smoothly.
Although Daehan Ilbo and other pro-Japanese forces raised an uproar, claiming that the authority of the judiciary was being shaken and the country was being divided, their efforts had no effect. The National Assembly investigation preparation committee quickly determined the scope of the investigation and the list of witnesses. Those involved in the trials or under suspicion within the judiciary were selected first. It was also decided that the Japanese colonial-era victims themselves would be called to testify before the National Assembly. Since it was the first time victims of the colonial period would testify in the National Assembly, the media covered it extensively. Japanese politicians issued anti-Korean statements, but few Koreans paid them any attention.
Thus the historic National Assembly investigation, prepared with remarkable speed, officially began on December 14. The first witnesses were, naturally, the presiding judge and associate judges who had handled the Japanese colonial-era victim lawsuit. At 10 a.m. on the 14th, the first witness, Presiding Judge Shin Kwang-ryeol, began his oath with a grave expression, broadcast live across the nation.