The Missing Exhibition Piece
October 13.
At last, the first hearing in the appeals trial had arrived.
“That was close.”
I was glad I had left an hour early, just in case something unexpected happened.
I had figured it would take an hour to get from my place near Soongsil Univ. Station on Line 7 to Dobong Station on Line 1.
“Never in my wildest dreams did I think the Line 7 subway would be delayed.”
Who could have imagined that the animals at Children’s Grand Park would all break out at once?
On an autumn day when the temperature swung sharply between morning and evening, animals escaped from their enclosures and came pouring into a subway station.
Life really did throw everything at you.
“Still, I got here about when I’d told Mr. Sim Oh-han I would.”
Some people would say that a person can be late sometimes, but one of the basic rules of courtroom etiquette for lawyers was to arrive on time.
For someone who was running late, it might only be a minute or two.
But given the reality that a court could only devote about ten minutes to each hearing date for a given case, even that created a serious delay for the tribunal.
And then, because judges and litigants were people too, that frustration inevitably leaked into their tone. Before long, the whole thing felt suspect, as though it had influenced the ruling.
That was exactly the kind of nightmare you never wanted.
So when new associates came in, they were taught courtroom etiquette: if they were delayed by a natural disaster or some other unavoidable event, they had to apologize to the court and the other side before the hearing began.
The next thing they learned was how to check a lawyer’s hearing schedule.
And even then, if you looked at the reasons for disciplinary action listed on the Korean Bar Association site every year, it was a spectacle all by itself.
“Mr. Cha!”
Mr. Sim Oh-han was waiting for me in front of the courthouse main gate.
His face looked worse than it had the day he visited my office.
“You came early, Mr. Sim.”
“I couldn’t sleep. But, Attorney.”
“Yes?”
“If you hire a lawyer, don’t you get to skip court?”
Ah, so that was why he looked a little sullen.
In civil cases, you did not have to appear on the judgment date.
“But in a criminal case, the defendant must appear in person, unless there’s an exceptional reason the court allows an absence.”
“…Oh.”
“If you receive a notice for a trial date and fail to appear, a warrant for your arrest may even be issued.”
“Yikes.”
“If you absolutely must be absent, you need to submit a motion to change the hearing date in advance, and then appear at the rescheduled date without fail.”
“I-I see.”
He must have heard something somewhere.
“For the record, unless it’s a very minor case punishable by a fine of five million won or less, or a clear case for dismissal of prosecution or acquittal, you have to appear even on the sentencing date.”
“Then how many times am I supposed to show up?”
“That depends. It’ll vary based on how the evidence review and witness examination unfold.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Mr. Sim scratched his head.
“In simple terms, we’ll be examining the witnesses over the points that you denied in the indictment. Both the prosecution and your side.”
“Right.”
“If there are a lot of witnesses, it could all happen in one long session lasting several hours in a single day, or it could be split across multiple dates.”
“Ah….”
“Judges are office workers too.”
They could devote several hours to one case, but then they would have less time for the other cases on their docket.
In other words, it depended on the judge’s discretion.
“And if necessary, there’ll be requests for fact inquiry and expert appraisal, so it could take even longer.”
“So that’s why lawsuits take so long.”
That was what litigation was: a fight against time, something no one could shoulder alone, which was why people hired lawyers in the first place.
“Yes. Especially since judges deal only with the witnesses and evidence placed right in front of them.”
As a rule, they did not concern themselves with what the prosecutor or defendant failed to say, or what evidence they failed to submit.
That was why, before the pretrial proceedings, I had told Mr. Sim to haul in every piece of evidence he had.
All the works he had painted so far, and all the pamphlets that were still left.
Everything was for one purpose only: to submit evidence that could prove his innocence.
“Attorney Cha. But can this really count as evidence?”
“More than enough.”
Mr. Sim kept rubbing his trembling hands.
“Then why didn’t the prosecutor take the sketches and pamphlets?”
“As I said, judges move according to the evidence submitted to them.”
“Huh?”
“If we submit those items, the odds of Mr. Sim being acquitted go up. So the prosecutor deliberately left them out. I don’t know why.”
I knew it was a planned investigation, but there was no point in feeding that to Mr. Sim in one gulp.
“B-But is that allowed? Can some government-paid parasite do that to ordinary people who’ve done nothing illegal?”
“Because there’s something to gain from it. If you want the conspiracy-theory version, it could be done to shift public opinion or in response to corporate demands.”
Mr. Sim stared at me with his mouth open, blank-faced.
Seeing that, I gave him a thin smile.
“That last part was a joke. A joke.”
“Wow. I thought you were serious and I almost lost it.”
I had said it was a joke because he looked ready to faint if I told him the truth. Apparently, he believed me.
Well, he should.
Given that paper.
“So, did you bring your final statement?”
“I wrote something rough, but why did you make me bring it at all?”
“Because even in a short time, it can help create a favorable impression with the court.”
“An impression?”
“Yes. Instead of saying, ‘I didn’t do it,’ if you say, ‘I understand why the prosecutor indicted me in this case because of these circumstances, but I had no such intent,’ how do you think the court will see Mr. Sim?”
“Oh. That’s pretty sharp. Wouldn’t they take it like that?”
“……”
Mr. Sim tilted his head.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No. Our goal is acquittal, so we can’t let our guard down until the very end. I’ll check your final statement after the hearing. You wrote it on A4 paper, right?”
* * *
Seoul Northern District Court.
Criminal Standard Courtroom, Courtroom 502.
When the bailiff announced the judge’s entrance, everyone stood, and the judge in his robes walked in.
The judge, with his firm gaze, gave a slight bow toward the gallery and took his seat on the bench.
Mr. Sim swallowed hard.
On the defendant’s bench sat Mr. Sim and the other clients who had been taken into custody.
On the defense bench sat their lawyers.
I took the seat placed just adjacent to the defendant’s bench and the defense bench.
Securing this spot, where I could speak directly to the defendant, was extremely important.
The judge, now seated, opened the proceedings.
“Case number 2023No1234, defendants Jeon Jae-hyun, Min I-young, and Sim Oh-han. Come forward one by one.”
Once a criminal trial began, the judge would inform the defendant of the right to remain silent and conduct an identity verification hearing to confirm personal details.
Unlike Mr. Sim, the other clients had been taken into custody.
After their identity hearings were finished, it was our turn.
The judge turned on his microphone.
“Identity verification. Defendant Sim Oh-han, state the first digits of your resident registration number.”
“930325.”
“What is your occupation?”
“Artist. I’m a freelance painting artist.”
“State your address.”
“B2, 25 Seongbuk 14-gil, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul.”
“Is your registered domicile 68 Seonjam-ro 5-gil, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“If your address changes, you must report it to the court. Sit down.”
The identity verification procedure was over.
“Prosecutor, state the outline of the charges.”
Prosecutor Han Seowon, an acquaintance of mine, stood and recited the facts of the indictment.
“On February 2, 2023, around 4:30 p.m., at the defendant Sim Oh-han’s studio located at 25 Seongbuk-ro 14-gil, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul, the defendants Jeon Jae-hyun and Min I-young met with him and conspired to counterfeit Korean five-ty-thousand-won banknotes for the purpose of passing them off as genuine. The defendants Jeon Jae-hyun and Min I-young handed Sim Oh-han banknote paper from the Bank of Korea….”
As though the prosecutor’s allegations were an uncontestable fact, Mr. Sim’s head sank lower and lower.
Every time I saw that, I felt a tightness in my chest.
People sitting in the defendant’s seat often made one terrible mistake.
They assumed that being there meant they were a criminal.
In some cases, they might be obvious criminals, but until a verdict was rendered, a defendant was not a criminal.
A defendant was someone who could answer whether they admitted or denied the allegations in the indictment.
In other words.
They were someone who knew the full shape of the case.
An other witness, so to speak.
I nudged the demoralized Mr. Sim in the side.
“Mr. Sim, are you planning to waste your retainer? Trust me and get yourself together.”
“Ah, yes, yes.”
His sharp eyes from the first day seemed to come back into focus.
“…Defendant Sim Oh-han failed to realize the intended crime of counterfeiting currency and therefore only reached the stage of attempted offense.”
When Prosecutor Han finished his recital, he gave a sly smile.
He was my classmate from Judicial Research and Training Institute class 53, one of those who had slipped away into Continent Law Firm as a prosecutor while his exam score bracket left a few others to become judges and prosecutors. He was basically the last train and a hopeless bastard besides.
High on being a prosecutor and still not recognizing a classmate, huh? What a joke.
In my head, I sent him a neatly wrapped little insult, then turned away.
Mr. Sim was biting his lip so hard it seemed he might draw blood.
Having been found guilty in the first trial, Mr. Sim was at a disadvantage in every respect.
The current law, grounded in strict evidentiary trial principles, judged whether a defendant had committed a crime based only on the evidence submitted to the court.
Paradoxically, the defendant who knew the most about the case was left to the judgment of people who knew slightly less.
That was why this case was worth taking on.
When the prosecutor’s opening statement ended, the judge asked the defendants whether they admitted to the criminal facts.
“Defendant Sim Oh-han, this is the opening statement. Do you admit the facts of the crime?”
“I deny them.”
Once the defendant’s opening statement ended, the judge organized the issues, and at that point could ask questions of the defendant or the defense counsel.
“Before we proceed to evidence examination, the prosecutor and defense shall state their arguments regarding the proof of the indictment and related matters.”
After the prosecutor finished speaking, I rose from my seat.
“Your Honor, I would first like to request a correction to the factual record.”
“……!”
Prosecutor Han’s eyes went wide.
“The first meeting with defendants Jeon Jae-hyun and Min I-young took place on January 24, 2023, around 4:00 p.m. at Suryun Gallery in Insa-dong. At that meeting, defendants Jeon Jae-hyun and Min I-young commissioned Mr. Sim Oh-han to create a series of works connected to a piece titled The Art of Money. The work the prosecutor submitted as evidence, The Art of Money 2, is the very piece now under suspicion for allegedly involving the counterfeiting of currency.”
“Hold on, Attorney Cha Do-hyuk. Are you saying the prosecutor omitted the factual relationship between defendants Jeon Jae-hyun, Min I-young, and Mr. Sim Oh-han?”
“Yes. At the time the defendant-interrogation record was prepared, Mr. Sim repeatedly asked the prosecutor to correct the facts, but those corrections were omitted. Please confirm this.”
“I’ll confirm it. Submit the corrected materials.”
The prosecutor quickly raised a hand, but I shouted toward the judge.
“Your Honor, I submit as evidence the Suryun Gallery exhibition work The Art of Money and its catalog, both of which the prosecutor failed to submit as evidence. I also submit the rough drafts as evidence that there was no intent to pass the work off as currency.”
The judge’s impassive face cracked, just slightly.
“...Submit them.”
The first meeting the investigating prosecutor had erased.
The defendant’s testimony the investigating prosecutor had omitted.
The evidence the investigating prosecutor had not submitted.
Prosecutor Han, the man handling the trial, was going to be sweating bullets.
Anyone could see that the prosecutor was basically giving the judge the finger.
Maybe that was why the panicked Prosecutor Han chose to use his strongest move first.