Chapter 53
Over the course of several days, I scoured articles on school violence, hunting for patterns in similar incidents and relevant precedents. But most of what came up were press releases about anti-bullying campaigns run by schools or local governments.
As time passed and smartphones became ubiquitous, students started exposing themselves to raw, unfiltered media. Their tactics grew more sophisticated and insidious, evolving into even more brutal forms. Of course, back in 2018, I wasn't a parent and had no real interest in the topic, but I vaguely remembered clicking my tongue at the occasional news story.
By now, it had been nearly a week since Park Jincheol's parents made their decision. Had they come to one yet?
"All right, all right!"
Lost in thought as I pulled into the outdoor parking lot on the first floor of the office building, I rolled down the window at the sudden voice from behind.
"Oh, boss."
It was the building owner, who also ran the regular cafe.
"All right, yeah."
A parking assistant out of nowhere. I followed his guidance, parked, and stepped out of the car.
"Long time no see."
"Yeah, why haven't you been to the cafe lately?"
"I've got a lackey now."
The unexpected interjection came from Kang Minjae. He stood there with a carrier holding two coffees, grinning amiably.
"Morning, lawyer."
"Yeah."
"Man, Lawyer Cha, you're killing it. That drama—it's based on your case, right?"
"Yeah, that's how it turned out."
"You could tell just from the Kim Yeonjun thing. Meet Lawyer Cha, win the trial—it's a given. Heh."
"Exactly! Meet our lawyer, and we win every time. So, boss... any folks around you who might need a hand?"
Kang Minjae smoothly shifted the topic, his salesman instincts kicking in again. I crossed my arms, content to watch how far he'd push it.
He'd already griped yesterday when I asked him to review yet another pro bono case.
"Hmm, none that I can think of. Why, business slow?"
"...Yeah. We're about to starve here. You keep doing free trials all the time, making me review nothing but pro bono stuff. If you're into charity, we should've started an NGO. You'd crush it."
Kang Minjae mumbled in a deflated tone. No telling how much more he'd reveal. Time to cut him off.
"Kang, let's head in."
"...Boss, really—even something tiny would do. Anything like that?"
"Kang. Don't make me say it twice."
"Boss, just think—if there's gotta be one person..."
"Kang. That's three."
Kang Minjae shut up and turned toward the building entrance. I gave the owner a quick nod of respect and headed inside with him.
"Kang, you short on cash?"
"Huh? No way."
He laughed like it was absurd.
"Then why are you so desperate for cases? Na Eun-seong's wrapped up not that long ago."
"It's not ancient history, but after Kim Yeonjun, cases came right away—now there's a gap, so yeah. Maybe our PR's slipping."
"No way PR's the issue."
I nodded toward the massive framed newspaper clippings lining the office wall as we entered. Kang Minjae had scrapbooked every article mentioning us, hanging them proudly. Supposedly to hook walk-ins into full clients.
"But with all those articles, why are we twiddling thumbs? I'm dying here, boss."
"Two cases that size in an office not even a year open—doesn't that count as impressive?"
"So let's keep the streak alive... something like that."
Kang Minjae slumped into his chair at his desk. Then, remembering the coffee he hadn't handed me yet, he pulled one from the carrier and set it on my desk before sighing back into his seat.
"Wait for Taesik's case, then."
"You mean Park Jincheol's?"
As I flipped through files and nodded, Kang Minjae waved it off.
"I respect your guts taking school bullying to trial, boss, but I'm worried."
"Weren't you the one pitching it right there in Taesik's office?"
"Ah, I didn't realize it was that kinda issue. School violence is just..."
Right then, the office door opened, and a woman and a man walked in. Kang Minjae jumped up excitedly, then shot me a surprised look.
It was Park Jincheol's mother and Jang Taesik.
"Hello, lawyer."
Jincheol's mother greeted me, and I stood, moving to the consultation table. Jang Taesik, who had brought her, was uncharacteristically somber—and doing his best to fade into the background. Something he only did when he'd screwed up big.
"Hello. Did you discuss it thoroughly with Jincheol's father?"
"Yesterday, he didn't go to school."
But that's not what came out of her mouth.
"What do you mean?"
I shot Jang Taesik a demanding look, but he stared at the floor like he could drill through it.
"Jang, didn't you have a guy tailing him the whole commute?"
"...Y-yes."
Jang Taesik nodded reluctantly.
"Acting pitiful won't help now. Spill it."
"I already told his mom. My guy watched him enter the school gates and clocked out."
"Then why did the homeroom teacher call saying he didn't show?!"
Apparently, she'd gotten an absence call from the teacher that morning and immediately rang the staffer tailing Jincheol. The guy was baffled since he'd seen him pass the gates, and from there, both tried calling Jincheol nonstop. But his phone was off, and he skipped cram school after hours, only stumbling home at 11 p.m.
"Didn't you ask Jincheol what happened?"
"We pressed him, but he wouldn't answer—just told us to leave him alone and cursed us out. Sigh... how's a mom supposed to take that? Our Jincheol wasn't like this. He never talked back to his parents like that..."
She pounded her chest with her fist, sighing deeply. When a kid who never acted out turns violent toward parents, it's proof the only outlet for their rage is home. Their already shattered self-esteem sees even parental worry as insult.
"Lawyer, we need to do something. I can't just sit if my good boy's headed for ruin!"
I nodded slowly. She was right—leaving it fester could lead to anything with Jincheol. Plenty of victims had attempted suicide or developed mental illnesses. Adults might dismiss it as kids roughhousing, but that's delusion. At 18, teens know plenty. What Jincheol endured was straight-up violence.
"Take any legal action possible. I won't let the bastard who did this to my boy get away! Legal or whatever—if not, I'll... I'll... euughh."
She burst into tears again. Jang Taesik handed her a handkerchief, at a loss.
Truth is, the "tattooed uncle" solution had limits. It relied on fear that bullying Jincheol meant reprisal from some gang uncle. But if the bullies didn't fear that uncle, it wouldn't stop.
And yet, Jang Taesik's crew looked plenty thuggish...
"Jang."
"Yes, boss."
"Did the staffer you assigned ever talk to the bullies harassing Jincheol?"
"Ah, yes. Once after school, when they tried dragging him off, our guy warned them."
"How'd it go?"
"Said he talked them down nicely. First time, he said cram school, no dice."
"First time? So there were more chats."
"Next, they said just a quick word, but he said no again... that's when they smirked and told Jincheol to put in a good word with his uncle."
They'd figured out the "uncle" wasn't real family. Impressive for 2008, when that tactic wasn't common. They'd likely sussed the power dynamic too—targeting Jincheol over the staffer.
"Jincheol said yeah, uncle says it's fine, gotta go—and off they went."
"Next day was the beating."
His mother pressed her forehead, confirming.
One thing was clear: the "tattooed uncle" couldn't actually thrash the bullies. Assaulting minors? All it did was scare. They'd realized that, beaten Jincheol fear-free, and now confirmed over a week that no revenge was coming. If anything, it made them a joke.
"Ma'am, you said you went to the hospital when his leg broke—can you get the diagnosis?"
"Ah, yes. Should be able."
"Preserve evidence from the latest assault too. Bruises might've faded by now, though."
"The day we consulted you, when he was asleep... I photographed the bruises and all."
She pulled photos from her bag, spreading them on the table. His skinny frame was covered in bruises. Not just those—scrapes, tears, even press-marks like something stamped him.
"I was so heartbroken..."
Her tears welled again as she dabbed her eyes. Close inspection showed fresh bruises alongside fading ones—proof of frequent attacks. Even nails were chipped and broken. The bully was smart, avoiding visible spots. Scars clustered where clothes hid them.
"Seeing that, I was shocked... didn't realize it was this bad, really..."
Kang Minjae sighed as she stammered.
"What about the school violence committee?"
Kang Minjae asked me, but I shook my head.
If the perp was Lee Hyeokmin, he was student council vice president, with his mom holding sway in the parents' association. Getting a committee or making it stick? Unlikely. Their statements mattered most, and if Lee was popular like she said, it'd backfire. No committee, or a slap-on-the-wrist result, poisons criminal or civil suits.
"For now... ma'am, you want to pursue criminal and civil complaints."
"...Yes."
"Complaints take time. For quick action, maybe the committee like Kang says. But I doubt it'll yield real measures."
"Same here. Heard that Hyeokmin kid's dad runs some public office. Mom throws her weight around at school too. And teachers say no issue? When he's coming home beat—school's blind."
"Exactly. Investigation for a complaint takes time, and meanwhile, Jincheol stays at risk."
Then her phone rang. She excused herself, picked up—and blanched. The screen read "Jincheol's Homeroom Teacher."
"Yes, teacher? Yes, yes... What? Jincheol?!"