Would Park Jong-chul be pleased, too?

Yeh Young-june

The author is the head of the editorial board at the JoongAng Ilbo. 

Had it not been for one prosecutor’s instinct that day, the truth about Park Jong-chul’s death might have remained buried forever. How would history have unfolded then?

At around 7:40 p.m. on Jan. 14, 1987, two officers from the police anticommunist investigation unit hurried into the office of Choi Hwan, head of the Seoul District Prosecutors’ Office’s Public Security Department. A university student had died during questioning that morning, they said, and they wanted permission to cremate him that night, claiming his family had agreed.

At the time, police needed prosecutorial direction in suspicious death cases, including decisions on possible homicide and autopsies. Prosecutors also directed police investigations generally.

Choi immediately wondered what parents, after learning their son had died during interrogation, would ask to receive his ashes rather than his body. The report’s description of the cause as “shock” also troubled him. He withheld approval and told the officers to return the next day.

During that delay, the death police had sought to conceal became public through an exclusive report by JoongAng Ilbo reporter Shin Sung-ho. Prosecutors then obtained a court warrant and conducted an autopsy that established the cause of death. What followed is well known. Park’s torture death became a catalyst for the 1987 June Democracy Movement.

Had Choi signed the request that evening, evidence of torture might have disappeared. No later reinvestigation or special counsel could have recovered destroyed evidence, leaving Park’s death as another unexplained death under the Fifth Republic.

Now consider another question. What if the same thing happened after the revised Criminal Procedure Act takes effect in October? Can a prosecutor’s suspicion uncover a police cover-up without institutional authority behind it? Even if prosecutors detect something suspicious, they will no longer have the power to direct police investigations or conduct supplementary investigations themselves. Concealing an entire case could become easier than before.

This is not an argument for disparaging police or defending prosecutors. Today’s police are not the police of 39 years ago. Prosecutors also have a long record of abuses. They wielded enormous authority while often showing leniency toward those in power or faithfully carrying out political orders. Public anger over that conduct supplied the justification for prosecutorial reform, which many regard as self-inflicted.

Yet one principle remains clear: Unchecked investigative power creates problems, whether held by prosecutors or police. If prosecutors abuse their authority, institutions should be designed to restrain them. But the Democratic Party’s (DP) drive to strip prosecutors even of supplementary investigative authority effectively transfers power from prosecutors to police. There is no guarantee police will not eventually become “another prosecution.” The public will bear the consequences.

Nor does the revised law appear grounded in a consistent legal principle. If separating investigation from indictment is inviolable, how should special prosecutors be understood? They investigate, indict and maintain prosecutions in court.

A ruling party politician once remarked while in opposition: Why make prosecutors the target of reform when they could become the sword of reform after taking power? That prediction proved wrong in one sense. Yet special prosecutors can still be wielded as that sword, effectively assuming the role once played by prosecution special investigation units. Such an outcome contradicts the stated rationale for prosecutorial reform.

The legislative process has produced other puzzles. DP leaders pushed ahead despite falling approval ratings. Even the president and justice minister, both lawyers, failed to stop the complete abolishment of supplementary investigative authority despite expressing reservations. Prosecutorial reform became something of a litmus test of loyalty during the party leadership race.

Yet the DP was not always hostile to prosecutors. Former President Kim Dae-jung underwent numerous prosecutorial investigations before becoming president, but once in office he made effective use of special investigation units in managing political affairs.

This has encouraged interpretations linking prosecutorial reform to former President Roh Moo-hyun’s death. The words of DP politicians themselves reinforce that perception. One politician who reportedly led the Criminal Procedure Act revision visited Roh’s grave and wrote, “You must be saying, ‘I feel good,’ right?”

I have a suggestion. Visit Park Jong-chul’s grave as well. Tell him that prosecutors have finally been stripped of investigative powers and that the institutional mechanisms allowing them to check police have been removed.

Would Park say he feels good, too?