Saying Yes to the Unknown

When my friend Tim Franco asked if I could assist him at a protest assignment for the Wall Street Journal, I said yes immediately. How could I not? The Constitutional Court was about to announce the impeachment decision for President Yoon Suk Yeol — a verdict that could ignite major demonstrations. South Korea has a long history of passionate, high-energy protests. Here was a chance to go on an adventure with a friend, learn from a colleague shooting for a renowned publication, and maybe even capture a few portfolio-worthy shots of my own.

Preparations for Chaos

Even though Tim quietly admitted he didn’t think it would get that serious, the preparation said otherwise. Authorities had announced they were deploying around 14,000 police officers from 210 riot units across Seoul. A 300-meter perimeter around the Constitutional Court was locked down with police buses parked bumper to bumper, turning the area into a fortress. They even used empty Chinese tour buses to help seal off streets. A 1.85 km radius around the court was declared a no-fly zone, with drone-jamming equipment deployed. All signs pointed to a city preparing for the worst.

Wall Street Journal’s Precautionary Measures

The WSJ’s precautions reflected an even higher level of seriousness. Before the assignment, Tim had to attend a safety workshop hosted last-minute by the WSJ the night prior. They issued him two gas masks, a first aid kit, and advised him to find a “buddy” for safety. (That’s where I came in with my eight years of “ex-military” experience — which somehow sounds way cooler than eight years of reserve infantry.) Tim then messaged me asking for my blood type, emergency contacts, and even three “proof of life” questions and answers that only we would know. He also had to install an emergency app on his phone with a panic button feature. It all felt very real, very quickly.

What We Envisioned vs. Reality

Before the assignment, Tim mentioned he might have to bring his laptop since Chanel was still sending edit requests for a storefront he had photographed the day before.

As a joke, I took Tim’s gas mask selfie and mocked up this highly realistic “press-on-the-front-lines” photo — showcasing the kind of client dedication that doesn’t take a day off, even during a protest.

Gearing Up

The night before, I meticulously prepped my gear. I chose my Canon EOS R5 with a 24-105mm f/4 lens as my main setup for versatility, and my EOS R with a 16-35mm f/2.8 wide-angle lens as backup, packed into a waist bag. I left my bulky camera backpack behind in favor of a soft, collapsible black bag I found at a late-night discount bin. It wasn’t stylish, but it was light, low-profile, and perfect if I needed to ditch it and run. Four extra batteries, a couple of N95 masks (mostly to hide my face), lightweight black clothing from head to toe — I wanted to move fast and stay unnoticed if needed. (Part of me was worried I looked more like a hooligan than a reporter.)

Entering the Fortress

The next morning, I took the subway to Euljiro 1-ga and, in a perfect bit of Seoul serendipity, Tim happened to drive right past me on his motorcycle as I emerged from the station. We laughed about it later — in a city of 9 million, it felt like fate.

As we navigated the police barricades, the sheer scale of the operation hit me. Block after block was sealed off. Streets that should have been wide open bottlenecked into tiny choke points barely wide enough for me to pass through sideways. Everything was engineered to control movement, and the level of planning was mind-blowing.

The Gathering Crowd

After weaving through the maze, we reached the main gathering point near Anguk Station, where the anti-Yoon (pro-impeachment) crowd was assembling. It was more subdued than I expected. Maybe a few thousand people scattered over a big area — nothing like the wall-to-wall footage we’d seen from the nights before.

We wandered through the crowd. Boxes of chalk had been left out on the sidewalks, and people were writing messages and slogans underfoot. No kids, just earnest citizens using whatever tools they had to make their voices heard.

Chasing Angles — and Breaking a Few Rules

I kept moving, looking for angles, reactions, small moments of character. And when I realized that drone flights were banned over the protest zone, I decided to get a little creative. I waited by the elevators at the Somerset Hotel until a guest exited — the kind of auto-locking doors you can’t normally get through — and slipped inside. I made my way up to the 31st floor and onto a rooftop balcony where I got a few beautiful shots of the growing crowd below. A hotel security guard eventually caught me and politely asked me to leave. Ironically, me sneaking onto that rooftop was probably the most rebellious thing that happened at the entire event.

Verdict and Celebration

As the morning stretched toward the 11:00 AM verdict announcement, the crowd thickened. From the palace gates down toward Anguk, the street filled up with people waving flags, chanting, singing songs that sounded almost like children’s TV show jingles. Giant screens were set up like an outdoor movie theater, and the whole event took on a surreal, festive feeling.

Then the announcement came: impeachment upheld.

The reaction was instant. Cheers, hugs, people crying in the streets. For many, it felt like a vindication of democracy, a triumph after months of political tension. I tried to capture the tears, the joy, the cathartic release that rippled through the crowd.

A Different Kind of Order

One thing that stood out to me all day was how incredibly well the authorities handled everything. Despite the massive police presence outside the core zones, inside the protest area itself, it felt free, even celebratory. There was no visible riot police breathing down anyone’s neck. No intimidation. Even when tensions flared slightly, like an old man on a bicycle arguing with a barricade guard, the police stayed calm, patient, respectful.

In Canada or the U.S., you might expect a show of force, a readiness to escalate. Here, it felt different — almost like the goal was to disarm conflict before it could even spark. It was orderly, peaceful, and human. The K-Cop model is so successful it is event being exported to other countries.

Wrapping Up

After the crowds began to dissipate, Tim filed his photos for the WSJ. I didn’t submit mine — this wasn’t officially my assignment — but I captured images that mattered to me.

Later that afternoon, we grabbed coffee and took a few fun selfies in our gas masks, half-joking that this was the most action we saw all day.

And honestly, that’s what made the day so meaningful.

There’s always that internal tug in moments like this — the part of you that selfishly craves chaos because it makes for “better” photos. But in the end, witnessing a city that chose celebration over destruction was better than any dramatic frame I could have asked for.

You don’t go to photograph what you want. You go to document what is.

And sometimes what “is” — is better, more human, and more beautiful than anything you could have imagined.