Chapter 150
Oh Sanghyeon was discharged from the hospital about a month before his trial. In the meantime, we were busy doing work that his originally assigned lawyer hadn't bothered with. Because of my injury preventing me from typing, Office Manager Oh and Kang Minjae had to work twice as hard.
I felt bad just sitting idle, so I tried to help with something, but there wasn't much I could do.
"...I'm shaking quite a bit."
Even Oh Sanghyeon, who had one of the toughest personalities among all my clients so far, seemed scared at the thought of standing in court.
To ordinary people, the courtroom is a frightening place. Few have ever experienced it firsthand, and the court is an institution that restricts the freedoms guaranteed by fundamental human rights. Every minute and second in there determines your life.
"If you're afraid of standing in court, we could submit the CCTV evidence you have now and prevent the trial from happening altogether."
In fact, this is the standard approach. Evidence is usually submitted before trial. We had proof that completely refuted the charges, so if we submitted it and it was accepted, there'd be no need for a messy trial.
And once Go Yunseong's side learned we had this evidence, they'd obviously push for a settlement. Just as Oh Sanghyeon had been charged not just with simple assault but with injury, Go Yunseong would face injury charges too.
They might offer an astronomical sum in exchange for strict confidentiality. Maybe that's what Oh Sanghyeon wanted deep down. In this money-worshipping world, what could be more valuable to an ordinary citizen than cash?
"No. I need to see that bastard Go Yunseong utterly humiliated, no matter what. If we can win decisively in court, I'd rather do that than settle. But..."
"But?"
"I looked it up somewhere, and that CCTV footage you found, Lawyer. I'm grateful the manager kept it safe, but they might not accept it as evidence... Then, no matter what's on it, it might as well not exist, right?"
The CCTV copy naturally had evidentiary value. But the problem was that the person who saved it was a third party with no connection to the assault case. Sure, he was the site manager and managing CCTV was his job, but strictly speaking, personally saving and storing it could be deemed illegal.
It's the same reason why even apartment residents can't view parking lot CCTV for a fender-bender without bringing the police—the security office refuses otherwise.
"Of course, the prosecution will nitpick the legality of how we obtained the CCTV. We'll submit it after the first trial date anyway—during the trial or at the second hearing. If new evidence pops up suddenly, they'll schedule another date."
"So they review its admissibility before the next hearing?"
"Exactly. If the prosecution accepts it right away, great, but..."
"Ha, it's a bit scary. If they rule the CCTV was obtained illegally, who knows what happens."
"There might be some debate, but any lawyer who throws away decisive evidence like this should have their license revoked."
His anxiety wasn't entirely unfounded. Generally, since the site manager himself saved the CCTV, it should hold up as evidence. That's why I thought we were golden when I first got it from him.
But the opponents were Hwang Youngchan and Wooshin Group. They could dig up any precedent to challenge its legality. Especially problematic if the judge was bribed.
"Mr. Oh Sanghyeon."
"Yes?"
"This might sound sudden, but how about we do a citizen participation trial for this case?"
"Citizen participation trial?"
Not just Oh Sanghyeon was surprised. Kang Minjae beside me and Office Manager Oh at the desk both turned to stare.
Citizen participation trials were still a novel concept at this point. Introduced in Korea in January 2008, it was only in its second year of implementation in 2009. Few legal professionals had experience with them.
"Does that mean jurors get involved?"
"Yes. Randomly selected citizens participate in the trial."
"So the verdict follows the jurors' opinion?"
"Not exactly. The judge must respect the jurors' majority opinion, but verdicts completely opposite to it can happen."
We had clear proof of innocence, but even without it, I believed a citizen participation trial was far better. For guilt-or-innocence battles rather than sentencing fights, it favored the defense. You could appeal to the jurors' sentiments.
It required more prep to deal with laypeople lacking legal knowledge compared to a regular trial, but that's on the lawyer to work harder.
"Go Yunseong's side bribed investigators to bury the evidence. Even from the CCTV the manager backed up early, it's clear they lied that the storage was empty and pushed to indict you against his will."
"...Yeah."
"Plus, this case was assigned to a single-judge criminal division. Just one judge. If Go Yunseong bribed him too, even an easy win becomes tough."
Oh Sanghyeon looked shocked at "judge bribery." I hoped it wasn't true. I'd thoroughly checked the assigned judge—a woman—and smelled no corruption. But you never know what seeds they might plant behind the scenes.
As someone who had to prepare for every contingency, better safe than sorry.
"A citizen participation trial goes to a three-judge criminal panel: one chief and two associates. Way harder to bribe three than one."
Well, Wooshin Group could probably buy all three if they tried, but this minimized the odds.
"In a case like this, appealing to three judges and multiple jurors seems more promising than one judge. It's not like it happened, but any ordinary citizen would subconsciously think it doesn't add up that a regular worker beat Go Sangjun's youngest son so badly it caused eight weeks of treatment. Plenty of jurors will start assuming you might be wronged."
I'm not doubting jurors' objectivity—I'm saying even they are human, Korean citizens.
"Another advantage: unlike regular trials that drag to verdict, citizen participation trials deliver one the same day."
"...Doesn't that mean no time to review CCTV admissibility? So we submit it beforehand?"
"If adopted on the spot, it gets admitted."
Oh Sanghyeon seemed hung up on admissibility.
"Mr. Oh. Admissibility worries apply equally to citizen or regular trials. It's not disadvantageous—could even help."
"How?"
"In citizen participation trials, the judge is more like... a facilitator."
"Facilitator?"
"Yes. They explain rules to jurors, run the proceedings... Until verdict, they guide so jurors drive it. Judges don't voice personal opinions unless jurors ask."
Oh Sanghyeon nodded slowly.
"If unexpected evidence emerges mid-trial? We'll explain its legality thoroughly. Prosecution objects, of course. But whether to view it? Judge decides. Even if inadmissible, they can still show it."
"...I see. So in citizen trials, jurors decide?"
"Not quite, but if jurors want to see it, the judge will."
Even if the CCTV's collection was ultimately ruled illegal, the image of Oh Sanghyeon beaten by Go Yunseong and his entourage would linger in jurors' minds. Judges tell them pre-trial to ignore inadmissible evidence, but is that easy?
"Hearing you out, Lawyer, citizen participation seems best. Can we just request it?"
As the famous Latin legal maxim goes, in doubt, favor the defendant. I'd strongly justify the request. It was still in pilot phase, underpublicized—state benefited from more cases. No exclusion grounds, so it'd pass.
Plus, opponent was Yang Hansuk. Rejecting it would scream he lacked confidence against jurors.
"No reason to reject."
Oh Sanghyeon wiped anxiety from his face and nodded.
December 31, 2009. The last day of the Year of the Ox.
Buried in work, we hadn't made time, but at Kang Minjae's insistent push for a year-end gathering, we met at a nearby barbecue joint.
The problem? It was packed with people like us—no room to breathe. Even at our small table with three squeezed in, we could barely hear the guy talking right in front of us.
"Lawyer, five missed calls on your phone."
Back from the bathroom, Kang Minjae handed me my phone from the table.
"Yang Hansuk senior."
"Yang Hansuk?"
December 31st, 7:30 PM. Prosecutors often work late, but five calls from him at this hour?
I picked up the phone.
"Gonna take this."
I considered ignoring, but Yang Hansuk wasn't the type for idle chit-chat.
I wove through the crowd outside and hit call.
"A bit."
"We did."
Was this his angle? I lit a cigarette and replied.
"You at the office?"
"Can use the computer then."
"Search what I tell you."
"Supreme Court 2009.10.23, Case No. 2009Mo1032."
Keyboard clacks echoed briefly, then a sigh.
"Fresh precedent, just two months old—you must've missed it. Even after 7 days, if before first trial date, it's allowable."
"See you in court. Happy New Year, Prosecutor Yang."