Chol Soo Lee, center, as seen in Free Chol Soo Lee (Grant Din/MUBI)

This rousing, thought-provoking documentary centers on Chol Soo Lee, a Korean immigrant who in 1973 was wrongfully convicted of a murder that took place in San Francisco’s Chinatown. As he spent the next decade in prison, his story would ignite a nationwide movement among Asian Americans and immigrants who saw their own struggles against racism reflected in him. Directors Julie Ha and Eugene Yi highlight the activists who took part in the effort to liberate Lee while bringing the main subject—who passed away in 2014—convincingly back to life through television footage as well as excerpts from his posthumously published memoir.

The earliest scenes depict how swiftly the hammer of justice fell upon Lee, who, for various reasons, was the perfect patsy for racist law enforcement officials. An ex-convict, he was a Korean living in a neighborhood that was almost exclusively Chinese or Japanese and, as such, was an outsider without much in the way of friends or community. Later, he survived in prison surrounded by violent offenders, almost all of whom were members of gangs. At one point, Lee delves into the code of behavior that fostered a kill-or-be-killed mentality, which, led him to murder another inmate in self-defense.

Even before the prison killing, Lee’s plight reached the attention of Korean investigative reporter K.W. Lee. The Sacramento Union journalist reached out to Lee, wrote articles about his struggles and incarceration for a wider audience, and, in one of the more hopeful moments of the film, even visited him in jail. Additionally, as Lee found himself on San Quentin’s Death Row, the narrative concurrently follows the grassroots activism originated by the few friends he had, who spread his story across Korean churches in California.

The rise of Lee as a cause célèbre is chronicled with an eye toward how his case moved others. The filmmakers never lose sight of the importance of the mass mobilization of ordinary Asian Americans. In the archived footage, the numbers of protestors increased over time, as well as their passion. Given how Asians have historically been unfairly labeled as docile, it’s pleasantly surprisingly to see the White establishment actually fearful of their reaction during moments in Lee’s second trial, which would determine if he would indeed be sentenced to the gas chamber.

Nevertheless, by the climactic courtroom scene, the stakes are almost unbelievably high—either he’ll be found guilty and sentenced to death or found innocent and released almost immediately. There are some moments of grandstanding on the part of Lee’s attorneys as they look back on what transpired in court, but they also do an effective job punching holes in the state’s case. It’s a collaborative effort with that of the filmmakers, who as the lawyers are making their case, cut either to official documents pointing out how witnesses got physical details of Lee wrong or to the ballistics test, which would seem to instantly exonerate Lee. It’s all very convincing, though outrage-inducing, given that prosecutors for the first trial had access to all of the same evidence yet pushed to convict him.

All of this adds up to compelling viewing, but what makes the documentary transcendent is its brave third act, which goes beyond courtroom decisions for what amounts to a cautionary tale about the dangers of putting too much stock into any one figurehead. It’s an ending we’ve been primed for by Ha and Yi, who take a deep dive into the considerable traumas Lee suffered throughout childhood and adolescence and out of prison.

Free Chol Soo Lee succeeds as a fascinating look back at events that would shape the political views of Asian Americans up to the present day, as well as an intimate portrait of an important, if flawed, real-life figure.