Emerging from the control room, I felt the need for a breath of fresh air. This emotional teenager had his back turned against us, head facing the wall, allowing himself an assuring and secure corner for the tears.
If one is sad, the tears should be allowed to flow. This, was probably something he wasn’t taught in that Korean company.
He treated me as a pastor, confiding and expecting me to redeem his soul. I was unable to, in fact, I would be selling his soul. The only person in this world who could betray him, ultimately was himself.
That night, him who was inevitably exhausted had nothing to say. I walked alone to the terrace for a puff and when I returned, the entire police bureau had erupted into a state of chaos, a Korean woman clad in office wear with a flustered expression was talking to David, waving her cellphone in her hand.
David gestured for her to calm down repeatedly, instructing Mike to find a translator on one hand while solemnly looking for a piece of pen and paper in preparation to do some statement recording.
This was obviously none of my business, Kris in the distant was still sprawled in the monitoring room, unable to witness the panic which had evolved on the outside.
To him, the story had ended the day before, not knowing the cause and results, just experiencing the process, perhaps his part was no longer important. Humans don’t wear polarizers while scrutinizing his corner, the pain, happiness, joy and depression all just as appearing as dust in God’s eye.
That night I drove him in the breeze, it was the familiar road, but I accidentally lost my way. Perhaps everyone had just been travelling between their lost routes, especially once the coordinates in life have been lost.
From the social relations perspective, I was just a psychologist hired by the police, however he remained as the likely-to-be veritable criminal. We sat face to face, as I turned I would be entering the air of freedom but him, he would be facing prison which would inevitably deprive him of his youth. As two equals, in some way, he was my teacher.
From yesterday till today, himself and his dead friend have imparted me the dignity of survival. Everyone involved in trade offs had eventually chose to fight, allowing me to be envious as an elderly, such respectable group of children.
They have lived their lives more seriously, unlike me, who was much alive as the dead. Waking up, I would think I have lived without any compensations, I perceived this gentle sunlight not to be deserving of gifts, I have never once changed this humble desire to condescend which I had perceived to be living in dignity.
Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps this group of young children had long required the experience of sacrificing to reach their petty dreams, insignificant dreams to the extent that a successful person like myself seemed to find ridiculous with a single mention, which however ignited its way into the blood and body of the most young and charming humans.
Not only in that house.
Perhaps I would never have submitted to admittance, if no difference in distinctions had existed in the eyes of god, these bunch of boys I initially perceived to be overly beautiful and feminine had as a matter of fact completed much more courageous things than me.
With the story halfway through, I had not known before, that the previous night would be the last time Kris brought up these kids before the trial.
The next morning, Mike greeted me while Kris appeared to be extraordinarily calm, he had a portion of his hair tied up behind with the simple help Mike delivered, he actually offered a word of thanks.
Although his motions were not free, he still had the habit of bending at his waist to bow and thank and while compared to his solemn face and his identity as a suspect right then, it was especially absurd.
I thought, perhaps if there were a few others bowing with him by the side, it would have seemed less obtrusive.
That day, I met with a good tempered middle-aged woman, the mother of Kris. Beside her stood Kris’ stepfather and my old friend Konrad Steinweg, a prestigious and expensive LAWYER IN LA, specializing in helping major suspects acquit.
“It’s been a long time since I saw you, you’re still such a regular here.” Konrad extended his hand, this man of German descent who grew up in the States actually appeared stricter than other Germans.
“Same, I knew that every time you appeared I would be unable to continue my work,” as I reluctantly shook his hand.
“Please just hand all the matters to me in the future,” He said, “I understand that speaking too much wouldn't bring him any benefits.” Konda leaned towards me as I expressed my understanding.
“However regarding things that happened subsequently, I am still curious.” I said.
“You would definitely be included in the list of attendees during the trial.” He said and let out a laugh.
I frowned, “so soon?” feeling as though something was not right.
“You have to go ask that gang, however,” Konrad drooped his eyes, “viewing from my current understanding of the situation, he is indeed in a substantial amount of trouble.” It seemed that confidentiality agreements had me excluded from a lot of information.
I walked towards Mike and saw Kris leave the control room, probably to meet with his parents and the lawyer for a discussion. I lifted my head and spoke to Mike: “You have always kicked away virtuous people.”
“Come on Frank,” Mike pleaded, “the person who has sealed that cub’s mouth was definitely not us or his lawyer, of course we all wished for him to speak more.”
“The judicial process has taken such a short period of time, what charges have you held against him.” I said.
Mike glanced at me meaningfully, “what he said might not necessarily be the truth and what you have heard might not certainly be the facts.”
“What does this mean?” I was not at all skeptical of the honesty and credibility of that patient.
“Well~~~” Mike looked at me, “Which side exactly are you on? It seems to be that of Mr survivor.”
“Well, I will be present at the trial.” I asked helplessly, “You should be able to speak of the charges now.”
After a moment of silence, Mike lowered his head, “a triple charge for murder.”
I froze, “who?”
“Korean males Kim Jongin, Park Chanyeol, and Chinese male Zhang Yixing.” Mike slammed the documents he had in his hands, lifted his head and completed his sentence, leaving me his back view.
