Chapter 17
The next day, 9:50 AM. Courtroom 309, main building of the Seoul District Court. The trial date for the Kim Yeonjun parricide case.
"Senior, good morning. You look exhausted."
Ten minutes before the trial, Prosecutor Yang approached me in his judicial robes. He extended a handshake with a beaming smile, so I responded in kind, appropriately enough.
"What an honor to go up against you, Senior."
"The honor is—"
"I never imagined I'd be the one to break your perfect 100% win rate. Thanks for giving me this opportunity."
His words carried a subtle bite, drawing a chuckle from me.
"Why are you laughing?"
Hwang Youngchan's newly anointed "golden boy" seemed to be Prosecutor Yang. Not a bad pick. Seoul National University Law graduate, second in his class at the Judicial Research and Training Institute. The woman he was seeing now was the daughter of a Ministry of Justice vice minister, and they'd marry in a few years. They'd push and pull each other up the ladder, step by gritty step.
"Anyway, go easy on me, Senior."
He whispered it while glancing at Kim Yeonjun, who was being led in by the court officer. Kim looked in rough shape, as if he hadn't slept a wink all night.
"Did you have breakfast?"
"No. Did you, Lawyer?"
"I did."
In truth, I hadn't had time. But a lawyer had to project unshakable confidence to put the defendant at ease, so I lied.
I scanned the gallery. A few reporters who'd snagged seats were hustling to set up their laptops. Yun Se-yeon was among them, making a pointed gesture to show she was watching me—as if to say she'd follow through on her threat to sue if I didn't feed her a proper scoop.
"Lawyer."
"Yes."
"...Thank you for all your hard work so far."
Kim Yeonjun managed a faint smile. At that moment, the courtroom door opened quietly, and Hwang Youngchan slipped in. He took a seat at the far end and looked my way. I gave a slight bow; he crossed his arms and smirked faintly in return.
"Kim Yeonjun."
"Yes?"
"Don't give up. When a defendant loses hope, it shows all over their face."
Ten o'clock sharp. The court officer hurried toward the gallery.
"All rise for the judge."
We stood briefly, then sat again. The presiding judge surveyed the packed gallery and both sides with solemn gravity.
"Good morning. This court takes its heavy responsibility in this highly publicized case with the utmost seriousness. We promise a fair and impartial judgment, free from bias."
Senior Judge Go Ilguk. Two years from retirement, he was a veteran. We'd crossed paths often in court, and I held him in high personal regard. The two associate judges were familiar faces too. No need to target them individually—they both deferred to the senior judge's calls anyway.
"Seoul District Court Case No. 2008Gohap4308. We commence the trial of the defendant Kim Yeonjun on charges of parricide and assault. Defendant, is your name Kim Yeonjun?"
"Yes."
"Age twenty-four, born 1983, medical student. Correct?"
"Yes."
"Registered address: Pyeongguk Apartments, Dogok-dong, Gangnam-gu, Seoul. Correct?"
"...Yes."
"Prosecution, state the facts of the indictment."
Prosecutor Yang stood.
"On April 1, 2008, the defendant Kim Yeonjun argued with his adoptive parents, Kim Cheolhwan and Ye Heesuk, at their home in Dogok-dong. He killed them with a blunt object and was arrested in the act. Moreover, he had repeatedly assaulted them prior, causing injury. The prosecution indicts the defendant on charges of parricide and assault."
"Defendant, do you admit the facts of the indictment?"
At the judge's question, Prosecutor Yang smirked faintly—as if to say, like you have a choice.
"The defendant denies all facts of the indictment."
My words landed like a slap. Prosecutor Yang's face twisted instantly. The gallery murmured in shock. I'd even lied to him about aiming for leniency, and the media had buzzed that, as a caught-in-the-act case, the real question was how much mercy he'd get. Yang ground his teeth, stung, while Senior Judge Go Ilguk hid a chuckle. As if to say, Of course he'd pull something. The old man knew me too well.
"The defendant stated during interrogation that he did not kill the victims. He claimed instead that his brother, Kim Hyeongjun, did it."
Prosecutor Yang fixed me with a steely glare as he spoke.
"I call Investigator Kim Hansu as a witness."
After a brief oath, Yang projected photos on the screen.
"Describe the scene when you arrived after the report."
"When we demanded entry, Kim Hyeongjun opened the door. He was crying, begging us to save his parents and stop his brother. In the master bedroom—the crime scene—the defendant Kim Yeonjun stood blankly, holding a baseball bat dripping with blood, staring at the deceased victims."
Yang hit the remote the moment Kim finished.
"The crime scene and the defendant's appearance right after arrest. That's the baseball bat the witness mentioned—the only murder weapon. The defendant's body was splattered with blood, confirmed by forensics as the victims'."
The screen switched to a photo of Kim Yeonjun smiling on a ballfield, bat in hand.
"The murder weapon belongs to the defendant."
"Defense, cross-examination?"
I stood.
"Witness, you said the defendant was holding the bat when you arrived?"
"Yes."
"And Kim Hyeongjun, the defendant's brother, opened the door."
"Yes."
"Wasn't Kim Hyeongjun splattered with blood too?"
"He was."
"How long after police demanded entry did Kim Hyeongjun open the door?"
"About three to five minutes."
"If someone else there—not the defendant—had killed the victims, five minutes would be plenty of time for that person to hand the bat to the defendant and remove their gloves. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Three to five minutes... yeah, that could work, but what are you getting at?"
Investigator Kim looked baffled. Yang, catching on, exploded.
"Your Honor! Counsel is leading the witness!"
"Sustained. Restrain yourself, Counsel."
Yang glared daggers at me. He'd bought my leniency line hook, line, and sinker. Betrayal stung, huh?
"Apologies. Then, when arresting the defendant in the act, did police witness him swinging the bat at the victims?"
"...No."
"So how did you deem it an in-the-act arrest?"
"He was standing over the dead victims, covered in blood, holding the bloody blunt object."
"Simply holding a bloody bat in his own home. That's it?"
The police judgment wasn't wrong. In that moment, Kim Yeonjun fit the profile for an in-the-act arrest perfectly. But failing to investigate properly afterward? That was on them.
"But—"
"No further questions."
Investigator Kim sighed and stepped down. Yang stood, grinding his teeth, as the next witness took the stand.
"Please introduce yourself."
"...I'm Kim Hyeongjun, the biological son of the victims Kim Cheolhwan and Ye Heesuk."
He'd prepped his grief in advance. Emotion choked his voice, with odd emphasis on "biological son." His face screamed one wrong word and I'll bawl—nauseatingly so.
Yang began his direct exam with leisurely ease.
"Did you witness the defendant kill the victims?"
"...Yes."
"The prior witness said you were splattered with blood too, not just the defendant. Explain."
A question handing Kim a chance to defend himself. Yang wanted no loose ends beyond the indicted defendant. This courtroom was for exposing Kim Yeonjun's savagery, not hunting other suspects.
"I was questioned too, and I explained: blood splashed while trying to stop Yeonjun from brutally beating our parents..."
"I see. Do you believe the defendant had motive to kill them?"
"Yes."
"What was it?"
Kim glanced at his brother with feigned unease before speaking. Oscar-worthy, if he were an actor.
"As is known, I'm the biological son; Yeonjun was adopted. Our parents loved us equally, but he didn't see it that way."
"Elaborate."
"Yeonjun thought our parents favored me, their real son. That's why he beat them regularly. 'If you adopted me, treat me the same—why bother adopting if you're gonna discriminate? Am I just a tool to polish your image?' Like that. Sob."
He choked back tears, and somewhere, handcuffs rattled. Kim Yeonjun's bound hands trembled. Plenty of defendants would leap up, screaming lies—but he held it together. Smart.
"...Yeonjun started beating our parents when trouble hit my business."
I looked up sharply. I'd figured he'd bury that business snag deep and use it to paint murder motive. But spilling it himself?