The police have dropped the case against former Democratic Party lawmaker Kang Sun-woo, who was accused of receiving "split donations" in exchange for a position as the chairman of the Gangseo-gu Facilities Management Corporation. [Photo = Yonhap News]It seems that a miraculous judicial administrative service—one that offers investigation, trial, and even pardon all in one go, right in the police station courtyard—has finally been introduced. 

Even in the face of clear evidence that money had changed hands, the police themselves easily decided not to refer the case to prosecution, stating that "no quid pro quo can be established." Since when did the South Korean police evolve beyond investigators collecting evidence into "masters of mind-reading," capable of peering deep into the pure intentions of a suspect and wielding a gavel instead of a judge? For this remarkable evolution, I offer a round of applause. 

The facts of the case are flagrant to the point of absurdity. Five million won was split up and funneled to Rep. Kang Sun-woo, and the donor, after receiving a single nomination and losing the election, landed a cushy job as the chairman of the Gangseo-gu Facilities Management Corporation. Money went in, and a position came out. Even a child could see this is a perfect, capitalistic "give and take." 

A ruling entirely different from the one for Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon

Unlike the judicial system that once showcased its razor-sharp "mind-reading" skills when tightening the noose around Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon by claiming, "There is no way money was paid on behalf of someone if there was no relationship at all," the police have now left the public confused with a version of mind-reading that is infinitely benevolent and romantic, concluding that "although money moved, there was likely no intention to exert influence." Whether it is the court or the police, things certainly get sweet for those on the left; power is indeed a wonderful thing. 

In this minor happenstance, we face the chilling reality of the "prosecution dissolution" and "investigative power adjustment" that the left wing fought so desperately to push through. The final piece of the puzzle, explaining why they were so eager to hand the massive power of case closure to the police, has perfectly fallen into place. 

What kind of magic happens when you castrate the indictment power of an uncontrollable prosecution and give a compliant police force the legal authority to bury a case? 

The corruption and irregularities of their own camp vanish quietly inside police filing cabinets, labeled "no suspicion," before they even reach the threshold of a courtroom. There is no need to delay a trial; they have built a perfect "clean room" where they block indictment at the source, ensuring that not even a record of the crime remains. 

Their own perfect "lawless utopia"

This is the true face of the judicial reform the Democratic Party so loudly champions. The world that arrives in the absence of the prosecution is not a just paradise free from the tyranny of power. It is their own perfect "lawless utopia," where bribes can be exchanged and the police will graciously issue pardons, and where those in power can swap cushy jobs with zero legal risk. 

Can we still call an investigative agency "police" when they bury files despite money changing hands, claiming "no quid pro quo exists"? Doesn't the name "cheap washing machine," operating as a subcontractor for power, fit better? 

In this stunning dystopia where the police double as judges and act as shields for a cartel, how long must we endure the disgusting collapse of the rule of law in the name of judicial justice? 

Unless we stop this shameless party thrown by those who hold the weapon of case closure in the backyard of power, the true scales of justice will never be set up in the Republic of Korea. 

◆ Author Park Joo-hyun

A composer, music director, columnist, and essayist. Through active engagement with political, current, and social issues on Facebook, the author has garnered wide public sympathy. Author of the essay collection *Crossing the Stormy Sea*.