The Night He Signed Away His Rights
There was no denying that, in cases like this one, some of the evidence submitted by the parties was outright unlawful.
Buying off witnesses, tampering with evidence, hiding it away—it happened all the time.
But I had never seen anyone submit something so blatantly fraudulent as the Oh siblings had.
Even the judge clicked his tongue, as if he’d seen enough of this world to know better. That, from a judge who clearly valued courtroom decorum above all else.
“Defendant Oh Yoon-bok, what exactly do you think you’re doing? Did you maliciously edit the audio file you submitted to the court?”
“No, I’m only here because my eldest sister said she was busy today, so I came in her place! How would I know why the evidence was edited?”
“It’s your evidence. How can you not know?”
“I told you, my eldest sister was the one in charge! I just came here to fill a seat!”
The moment Oh Yoon-bok blurted that out, everyone in the courtroom understood.
The one giving the orders was the one behind it all.
Realizing his mistake too late, Oh Yoon-bok started rambling incoherently.
At last, the judge had had enough and ordered the defendant out of the courtroom.
“Defense, proceed.”
Attorney Sun bit her lip, then slowly opened her mouth.
“...I submit Defendant’s Exhibit 2, the preliminary memorandum. It records the agreement reached between plaintiff Oh Yoon-sik and the defendant siblings before the performance agreement was drafted.”
I raised a hand.
Whether the preliminary memorandum had been written before the performance agreement, or after the copy of the complaint had been served—if no one could even tell when it had been drafted, then clinging to that document was the sort of tactic only a hopeless amateur would use to stall a case.
“Plaintiff may respond.”
“How could plaintiff Oh Yoon-sik have agreed to the contents of the preliminary memorandum when he’s illiterate?”
The question was directed at the defendant who had submitted the evidence.
“There has been no confirmation yet that the plaintiff is illiterate.”
“The plaintiff took the so-called ‘driver’s license exam for illiterates’ and got his license. Even so, you’re saying you still can’t confirm whether he’s illiterate?”
I let out a slow breath, forcing the courtroom into silence. That was the most exhilarating moment of all.
“Are you saying the national ‘driver’s license exam for illiterates’ has a blind spot?”
“...!”
“In the past, ordinary people were occasionally caught trying to take the written test meant for illiterates, but the system is very strict now.”
Then I’d have to bring up the rules regarding illiteracy.
Until the early 2000s, Korean law still had a provision for illiterate persons.
But the rule that a person with at least a middle-school education would not even be treated as illiterate was struck down under the 2006 decision 8189 for violating the principle of statutory law, and removed.
And Mr. Oh Yoon-sik wasn’t even a middle-school graduate.
Attorney Sun knew that too, so the answer she would give was already decided.
She’ll say that even if he received the benefits afforded to illiterate persons under the law, he can’t truly be regarded as functionally illiterate.
“Even if one receives the legal benefits granted to illiterate persons, there may still be a gap between that and actual functional illiteracy.”
Just as I expected.
Functional illiteracy. Good.
So I answered with my eyes.
The driver’s license exam for illiterates was not the end of it.
“Your Honor, I move to call Guan U from Jamsil Hana Apartment security and Park Ki-beom, a Korea Post courier, as witnesses to prove that plaintiff Oh Yoon-sik is illiterate.”
If those witnesses are accepted, every piece of evidence the defendants submitted will collapse.
The judge said he would review whether to accept the witnesses.
“The next hearing will be held here in this courtroom on March 8 at 2:00 p.m. I’ll see you then.”
The first oral hearing came to a close.
* * *
I took the subway from Seoul National University of Education Station on Line 3 to Express Bus Terminal Station.
“Young lawyer, you worked hard.”
“Not at all.”
It was only what I was supposed to do.
“But tell me, is civil court always like this? I thought people fought like crazy, just like on TV dramas.”
“The back-and-forth mostly happens in written briefs. And in court, it usually ends in about ten minutes with, ‘We’ll rest on the submitted briefs.’”
“What?! Ten minutes?”
The auntie gasped.
That was the prejudice everyone had, unless they had actually been through a civil lawsuit.
“We had a concentrated civil hearing, so we talked for a while, but even for that, there were almost no questions or rebuttals.”
“...You call that almost no back-and-forth?”
“The defendants didn’t rebut a single piece of evidence I submitted. And I rebutted every piece of evidence they submitted.”
The auntie mulled over the hearing we’d just finished, then clapped her hands.
“You’re right. You shot down every bit of evidence they brought up, didn’t you?”
“At this rate, the judge will find that none of the defendants’ evidence is reasonable.”
The only question now is how the judge will rule.
We had filed the suit in the names of Oh Yoon-sik and Lee Kkot-soon.
That performance agreement had been made with Oh Yoon-sik alone, but after confirming the land in Bub-eup later on, part of it was registered under Lee Kkot-soon’s name.
We’ll know at the next hearing.
* * *
Friday, March 8.
The second hearing day.
Today, too, I entered the East Building of the Seoul Central District Court and took the elevator to the fourth floor.
Perhaps because we’d arrived early, the only people seated in Courtroom 456 were us and Attorney Seon Ryeo-won.
“Young lawyer, today’s just witness examination and we’re done, right?”
“Probably. The judge checked most of it during the first hearing, so after the witness examination, we’ll probably just have final arguments from the lawyers, the plaintiff, and the defendant, then that’ll be it.”
“I thought it would take forever, but that’s a relief.”
“They gave us all the documents they’d submitted first, which made it easy to cut off any lines of rebuttal.”
We’d been lucky.
The mission had kept things moving quickly.
And the defendants had hired their lawyer too late.
If they’d retained counsel even a little earlier, they would have asked for more time to file their response brief or requested mediation. In that case, the mission period might have been blown right past.
They might even have noticed the trickery. Attorney Seon Ryeo-won is sharp enough for that.
“Anyway, if we finish the testimony we’ve prepared today without a problem, the final ruling will come at the next sentencing date.”
Then—
The sharp click of expensive heels echoed through the courtroom.
The auntie turned around, and I tilted my head toward the sound.
Oh Yoon-ja stood there in a tailored suit, looking down at us.
In the psychometry vision, she had been dressed in elaborate clothing, all lace and flash from start to finish.
Now, she looked like someone who understood exactly how she was supposed to appear in a courtroom.
She took a seat on the defendant’s side.
“Hey, miss.”
“It’s not ‘miss.’ I’m your lawyer.”
“If you’re a woman, you’re a miss. Why tack on your job after that? You must be awfully proud of it.”
“Please observe courtroom decorum.”
She used that line about “courtroom decorum” as a way to go toe-to-toe with Attorney Seon.
Looks like Oh Yoon-ja’s relationship with her lawyer isn’t exactly great either.
Then her fourth brother, Oh Yoon-bok, and the youngest, Oh Yoon-tek, who was biting his lip, took their seats in the gallery.
The court bailiff announced the start of proceedings, and the judge entered.
After confirming the parties’ attendance,
witness examination began in Case No. 2023GaDan 12345.
“All witnesses requested by the plaintiff, please come forward.”
Convenience-store part-timer Gyeong Soo-won and Jamsil Hana Apartment security guard Yoo Gwan-woo stepped out from the gallery and took their places before the witness stand.
Korea Post courier Park Ki-beom was absent due to personal reasons.
“Defendant Oh Yoon-ja, you too, come to the witness stand.”
Oh Yoon-ja raised a hand with a shameless expression.
“Your Honor, I was just about to ask about that. I’m the defendant, so how am I supposed to be examined as a witness?”
It wasn’t as if witnesses were chosen out of the blue on the day of attendance, and a defendant could also be examined as a witness, so it was a ridiculous question.
As expected, the judge let out a faint sigh and turned on his microphone.
“Under Article 367 of the Civil Procedure Act, the court may examine a witness ex officio or upon a party’s request. So please come forward, Defendant Oh Yoon-ja.”
Oh Yoon-ja tapped Attorney Seon on the upper arm.
“Hey, miss, do something about this.”
“Please go up there.”
“Ugh, seriously.”
I shot a sidelong glance at Attorney Seon, whose tone was turning icy.
Oh Yoon-ja huffed in irritation and stood up.
In the end, she joined the other witnesses at the stand.
“All witnesses, please swear that you will tell the truth. Raise your right hands, and after Witness Gyeong Soo-won reads the oath aloud as representative, each of you please state your name and lower your hand.”
The court bailiff unfolded the oath sheet and held it up before the witnesses.
After the oath was read, Yoo Gwan-woo and Oh Yoon-ja stated their names and lowered their hands.
The bailiff took the oath sheet and handed it to the presiding judge before returning to his seat.
“Since all witnesses have sworn, any lies you tell later may subject you to perjury charges. We’ll begin with the plaintiff’s witnesses: Gyeong Soo-won, Yoo Gwan-woo, then Oh Yoon-ja.”
Witness Gyeong Soo-won took the stand, while the remaining witnesses waited according to the bailiff’s instructions.
“Plaintiff’s counsel, proceed with your examination.”
“Yes.”
I rose from my seat and approached the witness stand.
“You’re Gyeong Soo-won, the part-timer from the alley barbecue place, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen Lee Kkot-soon, who’s seated at the plaintiff’s table, before?”
“No, this is my first time.”
“And Oh Yoon-ja, whom you saw during the oath, along with Oh Yoon-tek and Oh Yoon-bok sitting in the gallery here—do you know them?”
“No.”
“When did you first see the defendant?”
“On November 29, after 8:00 p.m., at a barbecue restaurant in the alley. He was a customer.”
“At that hour, it must have been busy. Why did they stand out in your memory?”
“Yes.”
One man at that table pointed at a huge sign that said restroom and still asked me where the restroom was.
I figured he was extremely drunk, so I guided him close by.
Then I stood beside the table, and the conversation among the seated customers was ridiculous.
“Yoon-sik was totally wasted. Now all we have to do is get him to sign the paper.”
“Don’t forget to push him along. Yoon-sik loves being praised more than anything. Yoon-ja, Yoon-seo, Yoon-hee—you know what I mean, right?”
“But sis, there’s a notary seal stamped on it. Was it really notarized?”
“Yoon-tek took care of it.”
It was testimony suggesting that even the notarization itself was probably fake.
Knowing that, I had already submitted the documents reporting that the notary was fake as well.
“And a little while later, after the man who’d gone to the restroom came back and sat down, only he was drinking. The others only pretended to drink.”
“...!”
The entire courtroom held its breath.
The one drinking was the plaintiff, Oh Yoon-sik.
The ones not drinking were the six defendants.
I showed the photo of Oh Yoon-sik right then.
“Mr. Gyeong Soo-won, is the man in this photo the one who drank soju by himself?”
“Yes.”
“Then did this man, Oh Yoon-sik, keep drinking alone the whole time? He never clinked soju glasses with anyone else?”
“As far as I remember, he never drank alone. He always clinked glasses with someone else before drinking.”
That matched what we’d seen on CCTV as well.
Oh Yoon-sik never just lifted a glass by himself.
He always clinked glasses with someone else first, then drank.
“The bill shows ten bottles of soju. Did Oh Yoon-sik really drink that much by himself?”
“No, I don’t think so. As I remember it, the others only pretended to drink and dumped theirs in the trash, so I don’t think Oh Yoon-sik consumed all of it alone. Though...”
Gyeong Soo-won paused for a breath.
“There were quite a lot of soju bottles stacked beside him. When I was clearing up, I picked them up with both hands like this, so at minimum there were six bottles. I’d guess he drank at least three.”
The CCTV showed there had been seven bottles on Oh Yoon-sik’s table in total.
And there was a record of those bottles being poured into the soju glasses of the other brothers sitting beside him.
If you count seven glasses as one bottle, that’s more than three and a half bottles.
The witness’s answer was almost identical.
I submitted a detailed breakdown of who poured how many glasses, so the witness’s testimony should hold up pretty well.
I glanced sideways at the judge.
He was nodding.
That meant Gyeong Soo-won was, to a certain extent, a credible witness.
“Then did you see Oh Yoon-sik sign the memorandum?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever hear any of the sober people explain the contents of the memorandum to Oh Yoon-sik?”
“No. I only heard them say he just had to sign here.”
There.
Winning a lawsuit really is easy, isn’t it?
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