There is a trilogy of movies from Hong Kong – the Infernal Affairs series. The title is a play on the possibly most feared and misunderstood component of police departments – Internal Affairs or IA. The role of IA is to serve as an internal guard or checks and balances for the department – investigating misconduct and wrongdoing by members of the service. It is important because without them, the authority and function of the department is undermined and weakened. It is such an integral role that most, if not all, commanders marked for serious posts must serve a stint with them. People dread this because it means dealing with colleagues. 

I was the equivalent of IA but not for individuals, rather the whole department. I was hidden and embedded, to the point I was, for all intents and purpose, IA for IA. This role allowed me to learn a lot but also see and pull strings from a mostly unnoticed position. It was part of what I always dreamed of – to impact and influence others, in this instance, millions of people in a quiet, understated, and subtle way, but with far-reaching consequences. 

The movies themselves are about two men who are both hidden. One is an undercover officer who is embedded in the Triads, one of the most formidable gangs in the city. The other is an officer with the HK police but secretly a member of the Triads. They battle each other in the shadows. In the movies, they share only a few scenes together. The most poignant one is when they share a moment listening to a haunting song – Forgotten Tine by Tsai Wen. It is a tender moment between two hardened men. 

At the end of the trilogy, the real officer has been killed by the false one. The false one actually wants to be legitimate but can’t outrun his past. He ends up catatonic at a sanatorium tapping out the word “Hell” on his wheelchair in Morse Code. He is trapped and lost in a hell of mostly his own making. 

Another ending scene shows an officer from Mainland China at the graves of the first officer and another one. He remarks to the girlfriend of the first that usually men are changed by events but men do not change events but that the deceased were extraordinary because they changed events. That scene spoke to me in a heavy manner. 

For so long, I thought I wanted to be seen or noticed by others. But maybe that wouldn’t have been good for me.  In a Monster Calls, the final tale is about how being seen can make you more lonely. It can be true. I ask whether I should have embraced or resisted my path more. I should have surrendered. 

But I think I want you to see me. I’ll let you in.  Let me in too.