January 29, 2010. Seoul Central District Court, Courtroom 421. Oh Sanghyeon assault case citizen participation trial hearing.
January 29, 2010. Seoul Central District Court, Courtroom 421. Oh Sanghyeon assault case citizen participation trial hearing.
"Think you can pull it off?"
I asked Kang Minjae, who was sitting at the defense table mechanically loosening his jaw. His gaze fixed blankly somewhere in the void, mouth gaping wide, he slowly turned his head to look at me.
"I'm freaking terrified," he admitted.
"You did fine at the pretrial hearing."
"...That was just the pretrial. There were no jurors back then."
Once a citizen participation trial is decided, the judge must refer the case to pretrial procedures. The pretrial hearing flows much like a standard trial—acknowledgment of charges, evidence review, issue clarification. It wraps up in less than half the time of a full citizen jury hearing. Since Kang Minjae had handled most of the speaking that day, I'd figured it was fine to let him take the lead today too.
But if he was this tense, maybe I needed to rethink that.
"I can't predict how the jury will react to the CCTV footage. Kinda throwing me off."
Kang Minjae wiped the cold sweat pooling in his palms with a handkerchief.
"No need to worry that much."
"Are you sure, sir?"
"About what?"
"Whether that evidence gets admitted... I figure you've got solid grounds for being so confident. But from what I know, I'm not sure it's a sure thing."
He rolled a pen across his fingers as he spoke.
That's why I had to project calm confidence. If I showed any anxiety, it'd multiply for the two people who mattered most here—my client and my partner attorney.
"I can't say for sure if it'll be admitted either. I've just minimized the chances of it being rejected, and now I'll do my best within that framework."
"'Do your utmost and leave the rest to heaven,' something like that?"
"You've got no idea how passionate I am about this case, Minjae. If we lose, I'll lose more sleep than I did the night my arm got busted."
This was against Go Yunseong, and it was an incident that never happened in my previous life. Plus, it was basically a test of trust thrown at me by reporter Choi Jonghyeon.
My desire to splash Go Yunseong's atrocities across the front page. My desire to pull Choi onto my side. I couldn't give up either—not even for a billion-won fee. Nothing could match those drives.
"So you did have a rough night after that arm injury? See, I didn't blab to the doc for nothing."
As the topic shifted, Kang Minjae seemed to relax a bit.
"The jury won't eat you alive, so just do your thing."
"Got it."
He scanned the gallery, swallowing dryly. The prospective jurors who had received their notices were already packed in.
Soon after, Yang Hansuk entered in his robes, face impassive. He gave me a curt nod the moment our eyes met and took his seat at the prosecution table.
"Somehow we've ended up screwing over Senior Yang the same way again. Whether the CCTV gets in or not, just knowing it exists has gotta have him sweating bullets."
Kang Minjae eyed Yang Hansuk, then leaned in to whisper.
He was talking about our first case after going solo—the Kim Hyeongjun parricide.
"Fate's a funny thing. No grudge against Yang, but he seems to misunderstand something."
I glanced at Yang Hansuk, who was shooting looks our way.
I hadn't previewed the CCTV evidence today to build hype around the case and drag out any illegality debates. Screwing Hwang Youngchan over the same way again? Sure, the thought crossed my mind... but it was secondary at best.
"Sir, Hwang Youngchan from the bureau is in the gallery."
"..."
I turned toward the gallery on impulse and locked eyes with Hwang Youngchan, absurdly seated at the far end. He was keeping his distance from Go Yunseong's lawyer, acting like total strangers.
"All rise."
The courtroom front door swung open with the bailiff's call. I stood, averting my gaze from Hwang.
"Now we'll select eight jurors from among you. One will be an alternate, but please participate fully from the jury box just like the others."
The presiding judge finished, and the drawing began immediately. Eight out of sixty-odd candidates moved to the jury box. Women slightly outnumbered men, and about half—three—looked to be in their twenties.
"Does anyone believe violence can never be justified, no matter the reason?"
"Salaried workers—excluding the self-employed, business owners, freelancers, or unemployed—please raise your hands."
"Among married jurors, those in single-income households, raise your hands."
"Do you think it's unfair that assault is a semi non-prosecutable offense—meaning no punishment if the victim doesn't want it?"
"Anyone agree with the proverb 'no smoke without fire'?"
The prosecution and defense fired questions at the jurors. These candidates already met the legal minimums, but prosecutors and defense attorneys could strike those they felt couldn't judge objectively.
After five rounds of strikes, the process finally ended. We hadn't aimed for gender or age balance, but it evened out somewhat—thirties and forties making up the majority.
"We solemnly swear to judge the facts justly and deliberate truthfully based on the law and evidence as explained by the judge."
With the lead juror's oath done, the judge laid out in detail what jurors could and couldn't do. By the time we'd cleared all pretrial formalities, an hour had passed. Unlike regular trials that run five to thirty minutes, this demanded a whole different level of focus.
The judge confirmed defendant Oh Sanghyeon's personal details, and the trial proper began.
"Prosecution, state your case."
Yang Hansuk picked up the shared mic and projected his PPT onto the beam projector opposite the jury box.
In citizen participation trials, opening statements are far more detailed than standard ones. You have to explain the relevant statutes, legal principles, and terms—visual aids are a must. His slides showed how meticulously he'd prepared: every font, every highlight perfect.
"On September 10, 2009, defendant Oh Sanghyeon, then a proxy manager in Wooshin Construction's apartment division, went on a site inspection with victim Go Yunseong, the division head."
Yang Hansuk met eyes around the jury as he continued.
"...But the defendant assaulted the victim, causing injuries requiring eight weeks' treatment. Accordingly, we indict defendant Oh Sanghyeon under Article 257(1) of the Criminal Act for assault."
"Defendant, do you admit the charges?"
"We deny the charges in full. The defendant merely defended himself against aggravated assault. He did not assault Go Yunseong. In fact, he suffered seven weeks' injuries from an aggravated assault by Go Yunseong and six accomplices."
The jurors looked stunned by both openings. The prosecution's mention of the victim as Go Sangjun's youngest son must have shocked them. Then the defense flipped it entirely.
Yang Hansuk had struck jurors who bought into "no smoke without fire"—probably due to the rumors swirling around Go Yunseong. As Go Sangjun's notorious wastrel son, the guy had a baked-in image: How bad do you have to be to earn that rep if you're not actually scum? Even with the strikes, shaking that aura would be tough.
"So, the prosecution has charged the defendant with unilaterally assaulting victim Go Yunseong, but the defendant denies it outright—and claims he was the assault victim."
The judge began outlining key issues for the jurors. It dragged on. In cases with such sharp divides, mutual assault is common without hard proof. If not for Go Yunseong, that's what would've happened here.
Thanks to the prosecution's biased investigation, Oh Sanghyeon was the sole defendant. And since we weren't just pleading not guilty but claiming victimhood, every detail had to be laid bare.
"Now, shall we begin evidence review?"
The judge, prosecution, and defense had covered this in pretrial, so nothing new. But to win juror trust, both sides had to belabor it.
Unlike his usual sharpness, Yang Hansuk explained each exhibit with uncharacteristic warmth. Then came the witness to back his claims.
"We call worker Shin Kyung-ho, who saw the defendant on site before and including the inspection day with the victim."
Shin Kyung-ho hadn't been on the original list—popped up a week before trial. They'd originally eyed Kim Uicheol and the site foreman, but ditched after we contacted the foreman. So they scrambled for this worker.
Background check: Shin had long worked Wooshin sites, buddy with the crew—solid credibility. Best alternative worker witness. Still, no match for Kim Uicheol's impact defending Go Yunseong after Oh's help.
The door opened; Shin entered.
"Witness, you've been on this construction site a long time?"
"Yes."
"So you've seen the defendant—the site manager—often?"
"Plenty. We've even shared makgeolli. I told him to call me 'hyung.' Pretty tight."
That hovered over his head until "tight"—then it flipped.
Oh Sanghyeon let out a disbelieving scoff from the dock.
"How'd you feel hearing the defendant assaulted 'royalty' like Go Yunseong? Gotta be like, 'No way a regular guy does that'—right?"
Shin shook his head firmly at Yang Hansuk's question.
"Wasn't surprised. Felt more like, 'Knew it'd happen eventually.'"
Oh Sanghyeon's face twisted in dismay.