Chapter 42
It was all there. The truth. Beside me, Channing’s mouth had dropped open.
“You did it,” I shouted. “You found proof.”
I hugged her, and we collapsed on the floor in exhaustion and relief.
After Channing saved and secured the recording, she wanted to call our lawyer. I was sitting beside her still closing out all the apps on my phone and paused on the social media community page. “Hold on,” I said. I showed her the most racist, hateful one.
She took my phone and scrolled through the posts again.
“They’re so awful.” She shuddered. “I hate that he’s Korean and he did this to me.
I don’t want people to think Koreans are capable of this.
The things those people said about my dad, back then and now, the racists use this as evidence against us. ”
“Maybe we post the video here,” I said tentatively. An idea was forming in my mind.
“What? Why? It’s evidence we need to show the judge.”
I told her how Kent had sent the judge on a junket so that Channing would be in jail longer. “He was punishing you for refusing to fold that day in jail. He has that kind of power,” I said.
She pushed her laptop aside and stood up, opened the door. Cool night air rushed in. She returned in another minute, closing the door behind her. She had a pen in her hand that she tapped on her forehead. “It’s like a battle of wills. He just wants to break me.”
“This evidence could be buried so no one ever sees it,” I said.
“Couldn’t we try the judge first and then post it if he refused to show it to the jury?”
“I don’t know how all that works, but what if the judge bars us from doing it, then we’d be breaking the law. If we post it now—” I paused. “Listen, Channing, if we post it now, we’re not doing anything anyone told us not to do.”
“You’re right, we have to post it,” she said.
“It’s the only way,” I told her.
The post on the East End social media forum was made by a user called “Neighbor with a Conscience” and a profile photo of a blue crane in flight.
The statement read: “Tell the mayor his chief of staff is covering up his assault of a woman by accusing her of stealing from him.” Beneath it was a shortened video of Kent accosting Channing.
It was shared on multiple social media accounts with over a million views in minutes.
We read the comments with bated breath. People commented with outrage.
Their words showed an eagerness to condemn Kent.
They demanded an investigation. I was glad for that response.
Someone asked: “Could there be other women this beast attacked?” I wondered about its validity.
Several people liked it. People expressed support, urged them to come forward.
No one named names. Had Kent assaulted others besides Channing?
The racism that piled up on the social media comments as a consequence of that one question was breathtaking.
“It’s probably true,” Channing said. “He didn’t begin with me.”
The mayor held a press conference in front of the town hall the very next day. I wasn’t there, but Ames called me about it. She said that the mayor told everyone that Kent had resigned.
“Resigned meaning fired,” Ames said. “Kent is really upset. He wanted the mayor to speak up on his behalf, show he stood by him, had confidence in him. Instead, Reynolds said, and I quote: ‘The case with Channing Shin was distracting from the work of the town helping the people, and so Kent Cho has stepped down.’”
Ames went on to explain that Kent wanted the narrative to be that the video was a fake. He wanted Ames to write an article about how Channing was an expert in technology and could easily have created a video that made it look like Kent had assaulted her.
“Did you agree?” I asked.
“No, of course not, and no one is buying it. Not even my editor. Kent is being frozen out. He asked Buzz to defend him, and when he refused, he asked Buzz’s wife to post on social media to deny the authenticity of the video. She’s a moderator of one of those groups.”
I was surprised. If I’d known that, I might have not posted it. She could have prevented it from being posted or taken it down before it got viewed. We’d dodged a bullet there.
“The video looks real; no one will believe him,” Ames said.
“What if he creates one that looks like Channing is assaulting him, it could go on and on?” I asked. “And what about Channing’s case?”
“It’s all going to be fine, Dahee. I think it’s over. I think Channing is safe. I’m just telling you so you know what Kent is up to.”
I thanked her, but when I told Channing, she continued to be suspicious of Ames’s motive. “She’s a double agent,” Channing said.
The next day, Wire finally called us into his office. It was a month after the social media post. The video had racked up six million views and was still climbing. He told us that the grand jury had dismissed the charges for insufficient evidence. He doubted the video had influenced the jurors.
“You’re free to leave East End,” he said.
“That’s it?” Channing asked. She looked confused. I felt the same disbelief. Kent would not give up this easily. “Are you sure?”
He said he had the paperwork to prove it.
Channing’s eyes teared up, in relief, I thought, but then she said, “What about how long I was in that jail without even being charged? Isn’t something going to happen to those men so they can’t do that to someone else who’s innocent?
Can’t we do something about that? Make sure no one else is detained that way? ”
I agreed. It didn’t feel like justice. Were others who didn’t have the ability or resources to defend themselves at the mercy of men like Kent, the police chief, and the mayor?
Wire raised his hands in surrender. “We do what we can one case at a time.”
“Is nothing going to happen to Kent?” Channing repeated.
“You should count yourself lucky,” he replied.
“Kent lost his job,” I said. “He’ll never be able to run for political office again.”
“Who cares? That’s not enough,” Channing said through gritted teeth.
“My advice: Take this as a win and leave this town and don’t come back,” Wire said.
“Not come back? Ever?” I asked. East End no longer was the ideal town in my eyes but to never return? It wasn’t fair. Why were we being punished when we hadn’t done anything wrong?
Just then, we heard a pounding on the stairs, the muffled voice of a woman speaking to Wire’s legal assistant, and then Ames came rushing into the office. Her face was bright with sweat. She had on a dark blazer and matching pants.
“You’ve got to come with me. Kent’s giving a press conference in front of Town Hall.” She addressed Channing. “You’re going to want to hear this directly from him. You’re not the one in his crosshairs anymore.”
I jumped to my feet. “When?”
Ames looked at her phone and turned to me. “In ten minutes. That’s why I had to come get you. I called but you didn’t answer,” she said.
My phone showed a missed call from her.
“Are you coming?” she added. “Paul and my grandparents are already there. I promise you you’ll want to see this.”
Channing and I looked at each other. We were still nervous to be around Kent.
Despite the lawyer’s announcement, the case had hung over our heads for so long it felt surreal to have it wiped away now.
As we walked to the municipal building, Ames asked, “Did either of you reach out to the justice department about Kent?”
We told her no.
“Maybe it’s not about him then, but I got a call the other day from a junior official about corruption in East End. I thought maybe you had something to do with it.”
On Saturdays in October during the afternoon while the weather was balmy, East End was filled with the return of tourists taking advantage of lower hotel room charges and harvest festival events.
I saw Paul scanning the crowd, and when he noticed us, he waved. He’d commandeered two café tables across the street. One for Mr. and Mrs. Yun and their friends, and he was battling to hold on to chairs for me, Channing, and Ames.
There was no podium. Kent had some sort of portable microphone in his hand and was standing on the steps of the town hall.
A few people walked out behind him but gave him space when they saw the small audience of news cameras and journalists fanned out on the sidewalk.
To his left was the police station I knew well.
A thin crowd of curious passersby stood around. A clump of Korean families near Mr. and Mrs. Yun smiled at me and glanced at my cousin as if she was a celebrity.
“This is a circus and Kent is the ringmaster,” Channing muttered.