“Leverage? We can threaten him by showing him the footage or take it to the state authorities?” I said. “Someone has to be out of Kent’s reach.”
Maybe it was lack of sleep the night before, but I couldn’t shake the anxiety I felt from reading those social media posts. When I crossed the street in town, I felt the hostile gaze of the drivers at the traffic light. When someone didn’t hold the door for me at the café, I thought they’d meant to shut me out. When someone cut the line in front of me, I objected and didn’t smile when they apologized. I wondered what people were really thinking. I wasn’t as quick to greet people or smile when I passed them on the street.
By Friday, Channing had retrieved the footage from Kent’s bedroom camera. He’d saved segments, which, Channing suggested, meant he might have deleted his attack. We searched for the one with the date stamp of his party. The camera was in the corner, above the cabinet with a clear shot of the bed. I remembered Ames’s description of Kent positioning her in his room for a kiss.
We held our breath, hoping that the night of the party had been recorded and saved. I was surprised to see the number of women he’d brought back to his bedroom in recent days. I saw the police officer who had been in the reception area of the station, mostly because she arrived with her uniform on. Non-Koreans mostly, but there was the Korean woman in the halter dress from Philadelphia I’d noticed at his party.
“Stop there,” I called out. Suddenly the screen was filled with Kent’s plain bedroom, and the door opened. Kent walked in first and waved Mrs. Yun in. Behind her was Channing, who stayed by the door. Mrs. Yun’s face loomed large as she peered at the cabinet. She held up her phone and took photos of it. Meanwhile, Kent walked to the door and closed it, stoodguard. Channing took a few steps farther into the room. I could tell she wanted to keep her distance from him. Mrs. Yun turned her head toward Kent. There was no audio. Then Mrs. Yun walked quickly to the door. Kent opened it for her and then closed it again before Channing could escape.
His back was to the door and Channing faced him. She leaned to one side and then the other, her hand out in front of her. Kent moved with her. It was odd without sound. He mirrored her as if in a dance. Then he abruptly grabbed her with both hands outstretched, and it stopped looking like a dance. A gross pantomime. His hands were viselike on her arms, and he pushed her backward, all while holding her upright in his grip, directly toward the bed, and just as the back of her legs made contact with the mattress, he hauled her to him and smashed his face into hers.
Was that when Harabeoji knocked? Because just then both figures were absolutely still as if the video had been stopped, but the time stamp still showed it was running. Suddenly Channing slid away from Kent’s grip and slapped and punched him as he struggled to grab hold of her. She had better balance and was able to spin and run to the door.
He bolted after her. She flung the door open. The camera didn’t show the figure there, but there was a shadow, and I knew it was Harabeoji. Channing fled out of view of the camera. Kent stared at the figure for a second before he exited the room.
The video paused with the image of Kent’s leg visible in the doorway as he ran in pursuit.
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 nightair 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.
