Signal: Episode 13

by gummimochi

Soo-hyun takes the spotlight this hour as she wrestles with her most difficult challenge yet: saying goodbye. Signal has put us through some emotionally trying episodes over its run, but if this episode is any indication, it can still wring more tears out of us. As we dig deeper into the past, there are fewer number of people our detectives can trust other than each other.

In the wake of a fallen cop, our cold case squad will need to tread with caution to figure out the details of why his life was in danger. And if they aren’t careful, it’ll be them who might get caught in the crossfire.

SONG OF THE DAY

Jung Joon-young – “공감 (Sympathy)” [ Download ]

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EPISODE 13 RECAP

While Jae-han’s bones are assembled in the NFS building, we jump to 1999 where Soo-hyun learns that Jung-jae has tendered his resignation. Jae-han hasn’t turned up at work either, so she seeks him out at his father’s small watch repair shop.

Jae-han’s father takes her to Jae-han, and she sees the envelope for his own resignation. He doesn’t see why she could concern herself with whether he quits or not, but she’s seen today’s date circled on the calendar hanging in the shop, and says he shouldn’t resign on his father’s birthday.

She disagrees with his idea to buy food, arguing that it should come from the heart. So they end up buying groceries, and her initial claim of being a great cook crumbles as she mixes up ingredients and burns the food. Heh.

Somehow she manages to set a visually appealing birthday dinner, and Jae-han’s father wonders how Jae-han snatched such a pretty lady. Both men dig in… and gag. Ha, it’s terrible, innit? Well, they say it’s the heart that counts.

Jae-han’s father suggests they have a drink instead, and Soo-hyun denies Jae-han’s claim that she’s a lightweight. Cut to: Soo-hyun drunkenly singing in the cab. HAHAHA.

After the cab driver kicks them out, Jae-han piggybacks her the rest of the way. She asks him not to quit, reminding him of how he once told her that being a cop isn’t so bad. When Jae-han says he isn’t qualified to be a police officer anymore, she holds on tighter and tells him: “Lee Jae-han is the best detective I know. So you can’t ever quit.”

Once Jae-han’s father arrives at the forensics building, he and Soo-hyun are told that the skeletal remains are indeed Jae-han’s. He’s brought in to see his son, and torn between relief and anguish at seeing Jae-han one more. He breaks down into sorrowful sobs, as Hae-young looks on helplessly.

Now Jae-han’s fervent words in their transmissions come tumbling down upon him, and Hae-young later arrives at Jae-han’s funeral where there are only two attendees: Jae-han’s father and Soo-hyun, dressed in her police uniform.

“It’s okay,” Hae-young finally tells her. Even if there aren’t any other mourners, Jae-han will find comfort in knowing that there are still people in this world who haven’t forgotten about him.

Her eyes brimming with tears, Soo-hyun says she realized later on that she and Jae-han hadn’t taken a decent photo together. Her biggest regret is that if she’d known that time was the last time, she would’ve made sure that there was something to hold onto.

Shortly after Jae-han’s “disappearance”, his desk had been found stuffed with cash. The corruption scandal had broken his father’s heart, and Soo-hyun had sworn to find him. But as time passed, Soo-hyun concluded that Jae-han must be dead, because he wouldn’t have simply abandoned his loved ones.

So she’d run to check every skeleton that came in through the NFS doors, Soo-hyun explains as tears stream down her cheeks. At times, a part of her wished that he’d enter through a door as if nothing had happened, calling her name. “If he came in like that… if he did…” she says, her voice trembling.

Soo-hyun places a flower before Jae-han’s table, then steps back to give her sunbae a final salute. Tears well up in her eyes again as she remembers how he told her they’d talk that weekend, once everything settled down. “You asked me to wait until the weekend… but it took fifteen years. Since you broke the promise first… you can’t say anything even if I speak badly of you, sunbae-nim.”

Hae-young silently surveys Jae-han’s room while Jae-han’s father grieves. Soo-hyun returns to the precinct and picks up the photo of Batman on her desk, which she’d found while going through Jae-han’s things years ago.

There was another photo in the back—the one of them acting like badass cops—and fresh tears fall from her eyes looking at it again. Clutching the photo to her chest, Soo-hyun sobs, finally giving in to her inconsolable grief.

Hae-young is in his car, a business card for a grilled pig skin restaurant in his hand. He’d found it in Jae-han’s room after Soo-hyun had taken Jae-han’s father away, and wonders why Jae-han had kept it.

Back in March 25, 1999, Jae-han reads that the sentencing for the Inju gang rape case is today. Little Hae-young watches as Sun-woo and the other offenders are taken away, and Hye-seung’s father is enraged that Sun-woo will face juvenile detention for only six months.

Sun-woo sees his heartbroken little brother in the crowd, just as Jae-han arrives to see the teens taken away. No matter how many times we’ve seen it, hearing Hae-young’s cries still breaks my heart. Seeing the young boy, Jae-han connects the dots that Sun-woo is Hae-young’s brother.

Following up on the family’s history, Jae-han learns that Sun-woo and Hae-young are half-brothers with different fathers. He seeks out the boys’ mother, who lives in the literally broken and graffitied home.

He takes in the various certificates on the wall (and there’s an empty space where a picture frame must’ve once hung), and the weary mother is filled with guilt. Sun-woo is her son from her first marriage, and their family could barely afford much of anything, but her boys were close.

Later that night, Jae-han travels to Hae-young’s house. He finds the young boy sitting outside and waits with him at a distance. Hours later, Hae-young descends the hill and Jae-han follows the boy to the main street.

Hae-young walks into the pig skin restaurant and asks for a meal, much to the ajumma’s surprise. Jae-han sits down at a nearby table and pays the woman to feed the boy what he wants, insisting that he isn’t the boy’s father.

Once the food arrives, Hae-young digs in at first, then stops mid-bite, recalling how he’d asked his hyung to take everyone out to dinner. Wiping away his tears, he keeps eating.

The restaurant is still standing, albeit without a customer in sight. The ajumma greets Hae-young fondly, asking him if he wants some omurice. She recognizes their old business card and Jae-han’s photo.

Turns out Jae-han had paid the ajumma handsomely so that Hae-young would be fed. He’d taken a business card with him and would sit nearby while Hae-young ate. She thought it odd that a complete stranger would look after a young boy, and eventually that man stopped coming.

Hae-young takes a walk down memory lane when he exits the restaurant. Jae-han follows little Hae-young at a distance, as the present Hae-young thinks to himself, “I thought I was alone.”

Back in high school, some boys had mocked his brother, which triggered Hae-young’s rage. He’d thrown punches at the student until the latter finally apologized. Hae-young had eaten at the ajumma’s restaurant, and we later skip to the brawl at the pool hall.

Hae-young had shown up at a classmate’s doorstep the following morning, asking how he can get into college. The girl is HAN DO-YEON, who had given him her notes while he was napping on the school rooftop.

She’d told him that getting into a good school was a farfetched idea because there was no way he’d bring his grades up in two years. Getting into a top-tier college or military academy would be out of the question, so how about the police university? That would fit in his qualifications since tuition and room and board is provided.

Hae-young had initially found the suggestion preposterous, but later entertained the idea. The restaurant ajumma had said she’d eat her words if Hae-young was accepted, but Burn Hand’s criticism about his socioeconomic status had wriggled at him.

When the walkie-talkie lights up, Hae-young brings up the Inju case, but Jae-han cuts him off. “I’m going to go all the way. I’d forgotten something important—that I cannot give up and turn my back on it.”

Tears well up in Hae-young’s eyes as Jae-han warmly tells him: “You said that cold cases exist because someone gives up. I’ll make sure that that doesn’t happen to this case.” Hae-young simply hopes for Jae-han’s happiness, because he feels that the importance of being with loved ones outweighs solving a case.

“I wish you would be happy too,” Jae-han transmits. “Even if you’re poor, you can all live under the same roof, gather together for a warm dinner, eat together, and sleep together… and not be lonely. I wish you would live like others do.”

Jae-han smiles when Hae-young asks that he step away from this case because pursuing it could endanger his life. He’s a violent crimes detective, Jae-han tells him—he’s not one to be so easily scared off. But Hae-young counters that Jae-han was the one who started these transmissions and told him that the link would start up again, and it would be up to him to convince Jae-han from the past.

“I heard a gunshot,” Hae-young tearfully explains. Jae-han likely put himself in danger because of the Inju case. Jae-han interrupts Hae-young before he can reveal anything more. His mind is made up; he won’t ever give up. Andddd that’s why you’re awesome.

About an hour later, Soo-hyun sits with Hae-young and asks if he still believes that they shouldn’t trust the police force. Hae-young confirms it, adding that the cops missed nabbing Kim Sung-bum by mere minutes.

This means someone had to have tipped the gangster off, Hae-young says. He believes they should let the others know about Section Chief Ahn’s confession, but Soo-hyun says they can’t because Director Kim oversees everything now.

She hangs upon Section Chief Ahn’s words that everything started in Inju, citing that Director Kim oversaw that investigation as well. There were many rumors swirling around because Director Kim rose through the ranks so quickly—some believed he joined hands with the rich and powerful.

When Hae-young gets worked up and suggests that they investigate the director, Soo-hyun tells him to simmer down. What they have is a theory, so it’s imperative that they proceed with caution—two cops have already died, after all.

Soo-hyun is understanding to Detective Kim and Heon-ki’s sighs when she confirms that they’ll be reinvestigating the 1999 Inju case. Heon-ki quickly separates their corner from the rest of the precinct with the whiteboard, saying that if they’re going to be crazy, they may as well go about it quietly.

He asks in a hushed voice if the reason why Hae-young hates cops so much is because his hyung was named the main offender in the case. Detective Kim can sympathize with how Hae-young must feel, and Soo-hyun picks up on how he knows about the case too, seeing as he’s aware of Sun-woo’s suicide.

Detective Kim admits that he leafed through the case files, adding that all of the witness statements matched up. But that’s what’s so suspicious, Soo-hyun retorts. If all the witnesses lied, then it means someone else is guilty.

Detective Kim says that solving it now will do little, since rape doesn’t fall under the new statute of limitations law. But if they find out who was truly behind the crime, then they can find out who exactly killed Section Chief Ahn, Soo-hyun argues.

Right now Hae-young is the prime suspect for Section Chief Ahn’s murder, but none of the cold case squad believes he committed the crime. Soo-hyun tasks Heon-ki with finding out how the evidence was acquired while Detective Kim is assigned to follow up on the victim.

We jump back to more of Soo-hyun and Hae-young’s conversation, when the latter admits that he was unsuccessful in tracking down Hye-seung. Finding people is an area Detective Kim excels at, and he comes back to Soo-hyun saying that it wasn’t easy, but he tracked her down because Hye-sung’s been seeking psychological help on a regular basis.

Since the cops are on patrol outside his house, Hae-young lays low and sneaks out a different way to meet up with Soo-hyun. He’s brought up to speed on Hye-sung’s need for psychological help, and he guesses that she suffers from PTSD and takes medication for insomnia or depression.

Other than that, all they know is that the address she gave the psychiatric hospital is a fake and she hasn’t scheduled another appointment. Hae-young guesses that Hye-seung must live near the hospital due to her extreme anxiety around people, particularly men.

Because she stretches her month’s supply of depression medication to a year, Hye-seung must’ve somewhat managed her post-traumatic symptoms. So there’s a likelihood that she made a fresh start for herself and holds down a job, though it may be a vocation that deals with mainly women and doesn’t interact with too many people too often.

Hae-young roams the streets, then stops to watch a woman open up a cosmetics store. He approaches her, but the woman says she isn’t Hye-seung. He checks other stores that women may frequent, then he happens to see a woman deliberately stop and avoid two men walking in her direction.

He calls out to her by name, but keeps his distance when he introduces himself. He explains that he’s here about the 1999 Inju case, but she gets agitated and makes for the door. “You remember Park Sun-woo, don’t you?” Hae-young calls out. “He was my hyung.”

Eventually Hye-seung sits across from Soo-hyun and Hae-young in a cafe, with Soo-hyun acknowledging that this must be hard for her. Promising to keep their conversation short, she cuts to the chase, asking if Sun-woo was the principal offender.

Hye-seung lowers her head, then says that Sun-woo was the only person who was truly genuine with her. Sun-woo had sought her out when she was alone, advising her to go home lest something awful happen to her. Showing him her injuries, she’d told him that her alcoholic father did this to her, so she sees no reason in going home.

Taking the beer can away from her, Sun-woo had suggested a better way to lead her life than being a runaway: by securing a future for herself. So he’d promised to tutor her.

Everyone at school had known the online post was about her, and their whispers had driven her up to the rooftop. Just as she was about to step off, Sun-woo had grabbed her. “It’s not your fault,” he’d said. “There’s no reason for you to die. It’s not your fault.”

She’d gone and betrayed the one who saved her life, Hye-seung confesses. When they were in the hospital, her father had threatened her, and so did Director Kim later on. She was so scared and so young back then, and she’d been promised that it would all end if she gave that confession.

She was focused on leaving the hellhole that was Inju, and Hye-seung apologizes to Hae-young. Soo-hyun asks who was truly responsible in framing Sun-woo then, while a group of teenage students pass by Jae-han on the street.

 
COMMENTS

Even though it’s been nearly seven weeks and we only have a handful of episodes left, it still amazes how Signal can still leave me breathless and in awe at each episode’s end. Often times, I need to take a few minutes so that I remember to breathe from the intensity that is this show. And the thought that it may eventually come to an end saddens me.

Getting the confirmation on Jae-han’s death was the first of so many heartbreaking moments in this episode, and as painful as it was to watch Jae-han’s father and Soo-hyun lament over his death, it was also a relief that they finally found an avenue to express their grief and gain some closure on what happened to him. We’ve seen Soo-hyun and Jae-han’s relationship develop as the years pass in the past—suffice it to say that it’s been such a delight from the early days of Jae-han as a sunbae annoyed by the newbie cop to the moments of him as an annoyed sunbae showing genuine concern for her. He was a meaningful presence to her, and watching her send him off fifteen years after his death broke my heart again into a million pieces.

Soo-hyun truly shone in this hour as we watched her deal with her grief regarding Jae-han and then picking herself back up to solve what happened to Jae-han and how the 1999 Inju case ties into what can only be a greater conspiracy. I may not have always agreed with Soo-hyun as a character, but there’s no doubt that Kim Hye-soo brings everything to the table in her acting, showing us both a tough, quick-thinking team leader and a meek young woman seeking to impress her crush’s father (with a white lie that she’s a decent cook, heh).

My curiosity was piqued after a few of you mentioned how the Inju gang rape case is based off of the Miryang gang rape in 2004. Allow to me say that the details are beyond horrifying and sickening, so prepare yourselves if you decide to read up on the case. How a crime of that severity then translates onto our screens is no easy task, considering that most of those involved are minors. Even though we have more clues in this episode than the one prior, especially with Hye-seung’s confession, the story is still far from complete. It honestly worries me that this episode left us with how Hye-seung getting pressured by Director Kim to give up Sun-woo’s name was the clincher in the case, because again, we’re given an incomplete picture and the episode runs the risk of placing blame on her for what happened to Sun-woo.

So I’m hoping that the next episode will provide a broader scope of this case, because Hye-seung has faced enough wrongful victim blaming from her peers and the public. If the Inju case does end up following the events of the Miryang case, then we’ve only yet scratched the surface of the social nightmare that is to come. It makes me sick to think how far corruption and injustice can reach when one has the money and power to do whatever they wish, and that the passage of time has done little, if at all, to break that cycle.

Pulling back to Hae-young and Jae-han, it was touching to see that the detective had a hand in the young boy’s life, if only to make sure that Hae-young wouldn’t go hungry. It’s these unsaid gestures that make me love him more than I already do, and he has no idea how much a small gesture can help shape someone else’s life and help a young boy realize that he’s never truly alone.

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