What if the most suspicious man in Memories of Murder was innocent—and the real killer was someone the detectives never truly saw?
In Bong Joon-ho’s 2003 masterpiece Memories of Murder, one character seems to fit almost everything the investigators are looking for.
He is young, quiet, and strangely composed.
He has recently returned from military service.
He works at a local factory.
And he repeatedly requests the same haunting song on the radio—a song associated with nights when women are murdered.
His name is Park Hyeon-gyu, played by Park Hae-il.
By the film’s climax, Detective Seo Tae-yoon is convinced that this man is responsible for the killings.
Many viewers are convinced, too.
But when the long-awaited forensic report arrives, it does not give the detectives the answer they desperately want.
Park Hyeon-gyu walks away.
And the film refuses to reveal whether he was guilty.
Sixteen years after the film’s release, South Korean police identified Lee Chun-jae as the perpetrator of the real Hwaseong serial murders that inspired Bong’s story.
That discovery created an extraordinary new question.
Did Bong Joon-ho accidentally create a fictional suspect who resembled the real murderer—or was Park Hyeon-gyu always intended to represent the danger of accusing the wrong person?
To understand the answer, we need to examine every major clue.
Spoiler Warning: This article discusses the ending of Memories of Murder (2003), the film’s central suspects, and the real-life Hwaseong murder investigation.
The Short Answer: Was Park Hyeon-gyu the Killer?
The film never proves that Park Hyeon-gyu committed the murders.
He is the most prominent suspect in the final part of the investigation, and several circumstances make him appear guilty.
But the detectives cannot establish a reliable forensic connection between him and the crimes.
The final confrontation ends without a confession supported by evidence or a conclusive identification.
Park Hyeon-gyu’s guilt remains unproven within the film.
And he should not be confused with Lee Chun-jae, the real murderer identified in 2019.
The similarities between the fictional character and Lee are fascinating, but they do not mean that Bong knew the real killer’s identity in 2003.
In fact, understanding that distinction reveals one of the movie’s deepest ideas.
A person can appear to fit every expectation of a murderer—and still not be someone we have proved guilty.
Why Does Park Hyeon-gyu Become the Main Suspect?
Park Hyeon-gyu enters the investigation after the detectives notice a disturbing pattern involving the radio.
Several murders appear to be connected with rainy nights.
On those nights, a listener requests the same song.
The song is Gloomy Letter (우울한 편지) by Korean singer-songwriter Yoo Jae-ha.
The police trace the requests to Park Hyeon-gyu.
That discovery immediately changes the direction of the investigation.
Unlike some earlier suspects, Park is not obviously eccentric or aggressive.
He is reserved.
He speaks calmly.
His appearance does not match the detectives’ expectation of a brutal serial murderer.
Yet his circumstances seem increasingly suspicious.
He arrived in the area after leaving the military.
The timing of his employment appears to overlap with the murders.
And his connection to the radio song seems too specific to dismiss.
For Detective Seo, the clues begin to form a coherent picture.
The problem is that a coherent picture is not necessarily a true one.
Clue 1: Why Does He Request Gloomy Letter on Rainy Nights?
The radio song is perhaps the film’s most memorable clue.
Whenever the music becomes associated with a murder, it creates a sense of terrible anticipation.
For the audience, the song starts to feel like a warning.
A familiar melody becomes an announcement of possible violence.
When investigators discover that Park Hyeon-gyu has requested it, the connection seems devastating.
But what does it actually prove?
It proves that he has a connection to the song.
It does not prove that he committed a murder.
The detectives assume that the song must have a special relationship with the killer’s behavior.
That is plausible.
But the film never establishes that the person requesting the music is necessarily the person committing the crimes.
The distinction matters.
The song creates an association between Park and the murders, but an association is not the same as physical evidence.
Was Gloomy Letter Really Connected to the Hwaseong Murders?
No verified connection between Yoo Jae-ha’s Gloomy Letter and the real Hwaseong murders has been established.
The radio-song pattern is a fictional device used by Bong Joon-ho.
It gives the investigation a compelling lead while encouraging the audience to experience the detectives’ growing certainty.
This is an important distinction for viewers who discover the film after learning about the real case.
The music is one of the film’s strongest storytelling elements.
It should not be mistaken for a documented clue that helped identify Lee Chun-jae.
Clue 2: Why Does Park Hyeon-gyu’s Military Background Matter?
The detectives also become interested in Park’s movements before the killings.
He has completed military service and started working in the area.
The timing appears significant.
From an investigator’s perspective, this kind of information can be useful.
If a series of crimes begins after a person arrives in a particular location, it may justify examining that person’s whereabouts.
But the timing alone cannot establish guilt.
Many people leave the military.
Many people move for employment.
And a coincidence becomes evidence only when it can be connected to the actual crimes.
The film deliberately places Park in the uncomfortable space between reasonable suspicion and insufficient proof.
He is not an arbitrary suspect.
There are understandable reasons to investigate him.
But those reasons are not enough to convict him.
The Strange Similarity to Lee Chun-jae
After Lee Chun-jae was identified in 2019, Korean media noticed similarities between his background and the fictional Park Hyeon-gyu.
Both were associated with the area around the crimes.
Both had military-service backgrounds that attracted attention in comparisons.
Reports also highlighted similarities involving their appearance and local connections.
These parallels are intriguing precisely because the film was released long before Lee’s identification.
But there is an important historical limitation.
Park Hyeon-gyu was not created as a verified portrait of Lee Chun-jae.
Contemporary reporting noted that the fictional character drew on a different real-life suspect from the original investigation.
Bong and his collaborators were working from the case information available at the time.
A resemblance discovered after the fact is not proof that the filmmakers identified the murderer before police did.
It is a coincidence worth discussing, not a solved mystery hidden inside the screenplay.
Clue 3: What About the Killer’s Soft Hands?
One of the film’s unsettling details concerns a survivor’s description of the attacker.
The woman remembers the man’s hands as unusually soft.
This creates a striking contrast.
The person responsible for horrifying violence may possess hands that seem gentle.
The description also complicates the detectives’ assumptions about what a murderer should look or feel like.
Park Hyeon-gyu’s youthful, relatively delicate appearance makes him seem compatible with that image.
But again, compatibility is not identification.
The film does not provide a reliable forensic demonstration that his hands belonged to the attacker.
The clue is suggestive rather than conclusive.
It works partly because the audience has already begun to suspect him.
Once we believe someone might be guilty, even ordinary details can start to look sinister.
That psychological process is central to Bong’s storytelling.
The movie does not merely ask whether Park is guilty.
It makes us examine how easily we become convinced that he must be.
Clue 4: Why Does Park Hyeon-gyu Seem So Calm?
Park Hae-il gives an unusually restrained performance.
His character does not react the way audiences might expect an innocent man to react when accused of terrible crimes.
He often appears distant and emotionally guarded.
His composure makes Detective Seo increasingly suspicious.
But how should we interpret that behavior?
There are at least two plausible readings.
Interpretation One: His Calmness Suggests Guilt
A viewer who believes Park is the murderer may see his composure as a sign of confidence.
Perhaps he knows the police lack sufficient evidence.
Perhaps he enjoys watching the detectives become frustrated.
Perhaps his ordinary appearance is part of what makes him dangerous.
This interpretation is emotionally persuasive because it fits the conventions of a psychological thriller.
Interpretation Two: His Calmness Does Not Prove Anything
An innocent person might also appear withdrawn or emotionally detached during an interrogation.
Fear, exhaustion, resentment, or distrust of the police could all influence someone’s behavior.
And in the world of Memories of Murder, suspects have good reason to distrust investigators.
The police repeatedly use intimidation and violence.
Under those circumstances, an unusual reaction cannot reliably distinguish guilt from innocence.
Bong gives Park Hyeon-gyu an unsettling presence without providing the audience with direct access to his private thoughts.
The result is ambiguity.
We can suspect him.
But we cannot know him.
The Most Important Detail: Bong Joon-ho Refused to Give the Killer a Single Face
Here is a filmmaking detail that changes how we should watch the entire movie.
According to the Criterion Collection’s behind-the-scenes discussion of Memories of Murder, Bong sought to preserve the killer’s anonymity.
Rather than consistently using one performer for the shadowy murderer, the production used multiple actors with similar physical characteristics.
Park Hae-il was among the actors used for these obscured appearances.
That choice matters enormously.
It means a shot of the murderer’s body or hands cannot automatically be treated as definitive proof that Park Hyeon-gyu committed the crimes.
The production was deliberately avoiding a stable visual identity for the killer.
The film encourages viewers to search for a recognizable murderer while withholding the visual evidence that would make recognition reliable.
This is more sophisticated than a conventional red herring.
A red herring usually directs attention toward the wrong suspect before revealing the true culprit.
Memories of Murder never provides that final revelation.
Instead, it exposes our desire to believe that the murderer must be someone we have already seen.
The Criterion Collection’s production account provides especially valuable evidence for this interpretation.
The ambiguity was not merely an accidental consequence of an unsolved story.
It was reinforced through the film’s visual design.
What Does the DNA Report Actually Say?
The DNA report is the turning point of the film’s climax.
Detective Seo has become convinced that Park Hyeon-gyu is guilty.
The investigators send biological evidence for forensic testing in the United States.
They expect the results to support their suspicions.
Instead, the report fails to provide the match they need.
This is where viewers sometimes become confused.
Does the result prove Park’s innocence?
Does it merely fail to prove his guilt?
The safest reading is that the report does not establish the forensic connection the detectives were expecting.
Some plot summaries describe the result as a non-match; others emphasize that it leaves the investigation without conclusive proof.
Either way, the report does not give Seo a legitimate basis to declare Park guilty.
And that is what matters dramatically.
The detective has built his entire emotional certainty around one suspect.
When the expected scientific confirmation fails to arrive, he cannot accept the result.
The man who originally insisted on evidence begins rejecting evidence because it contradicts his belief.
That reversal is one of the film’s most devastating moments.
Why Does Detective Seo Nearly Shoot Park Hyeon-gyu?
Seo Tae-yoon begins the film as a contrast to Park Doo-man.
He believes in documents, evidence, and rational investigation.
He is skeptical of local detectives who rely on intuition and forced confessions.
But the investigation gradually destroys his emotional distance.
The murders continue.
The police repeatedly fail.
And the death of a schoolgirl whom Seo recognizes makes the violence painfully personal.
He is no longer investigating an abstract series of crimes.
He is confronting the death of someone he remembers as a living person.
His grief becomes rage.
And his rage becomes certainty.
When he confronts Park Hyeon-gyu near the railway tunnel, he is no longer behaving like the detached investigator we met earlier.
He wants the man in front of him to be guilty.
Because if Park is guilty, Seo’s suffering might finally have an explanation.
And if Seo can punish him, perhaps the investigation will not feel like a total failure.
But the forensic report refuses to confirm what he believes.
Seo’s response exposes the danger of allowing emotional conviction to replace proof.
He comes close to killing a man whose guilt has not been established.
The detective who once defended rational investigation nearly becomes the embodiment of the system’s worst impulses.
Why Does Park Doo-man Stop Him?
Park Doo-man undergoes the opposite transformation.
At the beginning of the film, Park relies heavily on instinct.
He believes he can recognize criminals by looking into their eyes.
He participates in coercive investigative practices.
He often treats suspicion as sufficient justification for force.
But the investigation repeatedly proves that his confidence is unreliable.
By the tunnel confrontation, Park has become less certain.
He examines Park Hyeon-gyu’s face.
He searches for the unmistakable sign of guilt he once believed he could identify.
And he cannot find it.
This moment is crucial.
Park does not suddenly discover that Hyeon-gyu is innocent.
He discovers that he does not know.
That difference is the moral center of the scene.
Seo wants certainty so desperately that he is willing to ignore the absence of proof.
Park finally recognizes that uncertainty must be respected.
The two detectives have effectively exchanged positions.
The rational investigator is overwhelmed by emotion.
The instinctive investigator accepts the limits of his intuition.
The film’s climax is not about one detective becoming smarter than the other. It is about the terrible consequences of refusing to admit what cannot be known.
Why Does Park Hyeon-gyu Disappear Into the Tunnel?
The railway tunnel is one of the film’s most powerful visual images.
After the confrontation, Park Hyeon-gyu walks away into darkness.
The detectives remain behind.
The man they have pursued disappears from view.
In an ordinary crime thriller, this moment might signal the escape of a guilty criminal.
But Bong refuses to confirm that interpretation.
The tunnel can represent several things simultaneously.
It may suggest the frightening possibility that the murderer has escaped.
It may represent the loss of an innocent suspect whom the police nearly destroyed.
Or it may symbolize the investigators’ inability to see beyond their own assumptions.
The important point is that Park Hyeon-gyu disappears without becoming fully knowable.
The audience is left in the same position as the detectives.
We have watched him.
We have judged him.
But we have not established the truth.
The darkness of the tunnel does not reveal his identity.
It preserves the uncertainty.
Did Bong Joon-ho Accidentally Predict the Real Killer?
This question became popular after Lee Chun-jae was identified in 2019.
The resemblance between the fictional Park Hyeon-gyu and the real murderer encouraged speculation that Bong had somehow come unusually close to the truth.
But the claim needs careful handling.
The film contains fictionalized details, including the radio-song clue.
Park Hyeon-gyu’s character was developed using information available before Lee was identified.
And the production deliberately avoided establishing a single recognizable appearance for the killer.
Therefore, the film should not be treated as an accurate prediction of Lee’s identity.
What Bong did achieve was something more interesting.
He created a suspect whose ordinary appearance challenges the audience’s expectations of evil.
When the real murderer was eventually identified, the idea that a seemingly unremarkable person could commit horrifying crimes became newly unsettling.
The movie did not need to predict Lee’s face to anticipate that discomfort.
Its insight was psychological rather than forensic.
What the Real Hwaseong Case Reveals About False Certainty
The real investigation provides a disturbing historical parallel to the film’s central themes.
In 2019, DNA evidence led police to Lee Chun-jae, who was already imprisoned for a separate murder.
He later confessed to multiple killings.
In 2020, investigators attributed fourteen murders to him.
The case also involved the wrongful conviction of an innocent man in connection with one of the killings.
That man spent roughly two decades in prison before his conviction was overturned.
The historical significance is difficult to ignore.
While the actual murderer remained unidentified, an innocent person had been punished.
This is precisely the danger that Memories of Murder dramatizes through its repeated scenes of coercive interrogation and unreliable suspicion.
The fictional detectives want someone to confess.
They want an answer.
They want the nightmare to end.
But a confession obtained through force is not necessarily the truth.
And a suspect who appears guilty is not necessarily a murderer.
The film’s warning becomes more powerful when viewed alongside the actual history of the case.
Is Park Hyeon-gyu Innocent? Two Ways to Interpret the Film
The film leaves room for two major interpretations.
Theory One: Park Hyeon-gyu Is the Killer, but the Police Cannot Prove It
Supporters of this reading point to the suspicious radio requests, the timing of his arrival, his unsettling demeanor, and the circumstances surrounding the murders.
They may interpret his departure into the tunnel as the escape of a guilty man.
This is a possible reading of the fictional narrative.
But it requires treating circumstantial clues as stronger than the film’s available proof.
The movie never supplies a definitive revelation confirming this theory.
Theory Two: Park Hyeon-gyu Is Another Suspect Destroyed by Police Obsession
Under this interpretation, Park’s suspicious behavior is deliberately misleading.
He becomes the object of Seo’s desperation because the detective needs someone to blame.
The failed forensic confirmation then exposes the weakness of the entire case against him.
This reading fits the film’s repeated criticism of coerced confessions and premature conclusions.
But the movie does not provide a definitive declaration of his innocence, either.
Which Interpretation Is Stronger?
The most defensible conclusion is not that Park is secretly guilty or certainly innocent.
It is that the film withholds enough evidence to justify either final verdict.
This is not a failure of storytelling.
It is the point of the storytelling.
Bong makes us experience the temptation to solve a mystery by deciding that the most suspicious person must be the culprit.
Then he denies us the evidence needed to make that judgment responsibly.
The Connection to the Final Camera Stare
The film’s final camera stare becomes even more meaningful after examining Park Hyeon-gyu.
At the tunnel, Park Doo-man looks directly into a suspect’s face and fails to discover the truth.
Years later, he returns to the first crime scene.
A young girl tells him that another man visited the same location.
She describes him as ordinary.
Park then looks directly into the camera.
The two moments mirror one another.
In the tunnel, the detective cannot identify guilt in the face before him.
At the end, he searches for a face he cannot even see.
The film moves from the failure of recognition to the impossibility of recognition.
And that is why the final image is so powerful.
The killer may have been someone the detectives encountered.
He may have been someone they overlooked.
He may have lived among ordinary people without attracting suspicion.
The movie refuses to tell us.
Instead, it leaves us with the frightening realization that recognizing evil is not as simple as recognizing a face.
Final Verdict: The Most Suspicious Man Is Not Necessarily the Murderer
Was Park Hae-il’s character the real killer in Memories of Murder?
The film does not establish that he was.
Park Hyeon-gyu is a compelling suspect because Bong Joon-ho gives the audience reasons to doubt him.
But the clues remain circumstantial.
The forensic report does not confirm the detectives’ expectations.
And the film deliberately withholds a definitive identification.
The discovery of Lee Chun-jae in 2019 does not change that fictional uncertainty into proof.
Instead, it reminds us how dangerous false certainty can be.
Bong’s masterpiece is not simply about police officers failing to catch a murderer.
It is about what happens when people become so desperate for an answer that they stop distinguishing suspicion from knowledge.
The film asks a question that extends far beyond its final suspect:
If someone looks guilty, how much evidence do we need before we decide they are?
And perhaps the most disturbing answer is this:
Sometimes, the person we most want to believe is guilty is the person we know the least about.
Frequently Asked Questions
Was Park Hae-il the killer in Memories of Murder?
Park Hae-il plays Park Hyeon-gyu, a major suspect. The film never proves that the character committed the murders.
Who was the actual killer behind Memories of Murder?
Lee Chun-jae was identified in 2019 as the perpetrator of the real Hwaseong serial murders. He was already imprisoned for a separate murder.
Was Park Hyeon-gyu based on Lee Chun-jae?
Not as a confirmed portrait of the real murderer. The character was created before Lee’s identification and drew on the original investigation’s suspects and fictional elements.
Why does Park Hyeon-gyu request Gloomy Letter?
The film never conclusively explains his motivation. His radio requests make him suspicious, but they do not prove he committed the murders.
Was Gloomy Letter part of the real Hwaseong case?
The song’s association with the murders is a fictional element of the film, not an established clue from the actual investigation.
Did the DNA test prove Park Hyeon-gyu was innocent?
The report fails to provide the expected forensic match. It undermines the detectives’ case against him, but the film does not resolve the larger mystery by identifying the murderer.
Why does Park Hyeon-gyu walk into the tunnel?
His departure visually preserves the mystery. The scene allows viewers to interpret him as a possible killer escaping or as a suspect who has been wrongly pursued.
Why does Seo Tae-yoon try to shoot him?
Seo has become overwhelmed by grief, frustration, and anger. He is convinced of Park’s guilt despite the lack of conclusive evidence.
Sources and Further Reading
The Criterion Collection — 10 Things I Learned: Memories of Murder
Newsis — How Closely Does Memories of Murder Resemble the Real Hwaseong Case? (Korean)
Segye Ilbo — Similarities Between Lee Chun-jae and the Film’s Suspect (Korean)
Continue Reading on True Taste Korea
Memories of Murder Ending Explained: Why Does Song Kang-ho Stare at the Camera?
Explore the meaning of Bong Joon-ho’s unforgettable final shot, why the detective looks directly at the audience, and how the real killer’s identification in 2019 changed the way viewers experience the ending.
TTK Original — Beyond the Headlines
This analysis distinguishes the film’s fictional narrative from documented facts about the real Hwaseong murders. Interpretations of character behavior, symbolism, and unresolved guilt are presented as interpretations rather than established facts.