On the afternoon of April 9, 2026, the usually quiet halls of the Seoul Northern District Court were abuzz with tension and anticipation. The first trial of Kim So-young, accused of a chilling series of crimes involving drug-laced drinks and the deaths of two young men, was set to begin. By 3:45 PM, the courtroom had filled with lawyers, reporters, and the somber families of the victims, all seeking justice—or, at the very least, answers.
Kim So-young, at the center of the storm, entered the courtroom in green prison attire, her face partially obscured by a white mask. The visual was striking, a stark reminder of both the gravity of the charges and the media’s intense interest in the case. According to Yonhap News, when asked to remove her mask to speak, Kim complied, revealing little emotion as she declared, "I do not wish for a citizen jury trial."
The charges against Kim are as serious as they come. Prosecutors allege that between December 2025 and February 2026, Kim handed drugged beverages to three men in their twenties, resulting in the deaths of two and the injury of a third. The prosecution’s case does not stop there. They further accuse Kim of injuring three additional men—this time in their twenties and thirties—using the same method in Seoul’s Seocho-gu and Gangbuk-gu districts from October 2025 to January 2026. The pattern, they argue, was both deliberate and chillingly methodical.
But what drove Kim So-young to commit such acts? The prosecution, as reported by Channel A and corroborated by Munhwa Ilbo, paints a picture of a woman shaped by hardship and emotional turmoil. They claim that Kim’s actions were rooted in "emotional and social immaturity stemming from family conflict," and that her motives were largely financial. "Kim So-young used men for consumer and economic satisfaction, and handed out drugged drinks to control or escape conflict situations," prosecutors stated in court.
Kim’s defense, however, took a sharply different tack. Her attorney admitted that Kim had given the victims beverages containing drugs, but denied any intent to kill. "We acknowledge she gave drinks to the victims," her lawyer told the court, "but we deny the charges of special injury and murder." Throughout the investigation phase, Kim herself consistently denied any murderous intent, admitting only to the act of handing over the drinks. This distinction—between intent and action—may prove pivotal as the trial unfolds.
The families of the victims, meanwhile, have been vocal and united in their grief and anger. Just before the trial began, at around 3:20 PM, the family of victim A gathered in front of the courthouse to read a statement. Their pain was palpable as they described the ordeal: "Kim So-young crushed more than 50 pills at home, mixed them into hangover drinks, and committed the crime in a planned manner," the family asserted, according to Yonhap News. They pleaded with the court to impose the harshest penalty available: "We earnestly request the court to sentence her to death."
The family’s plea was not a mere outburst but a carefully organized campaign. On April 8, the day before the trial, they submitted a petition to the court, consisting of 94 separate letters from immediate family members. The petition, detailed by Munhwa Ilbo, called for the death penalty and recounted the suffering Kim’s actions had inflicted on their lives. They have also taken legal action beyond the criminal trial, filing a civil lawsuit against Kim So-young for 31 million KRW in damages—a sum that, while significant, hardly seems to capture the depth of their loss.
The legal team representing the family, led by attorney Nam Eun-ho of Vincent Law Firm, told Munhwa Ilbo that after the family’s statement, he would "explain the aggravating factors and the necessity of the maximum statutory sentence." The families’ demands are driven not only by a desire for retribution but also a sense that justice requires a response commensurate with the crime’s severity.
For many observers, the details of the alleged crimes are as disturbing as they are perplexing. According to the prosecution, Kim meticulously prepared her lethal concoctions, crushing dozens of pills and disguising them in seemingly innocuous drinks. The repeated use of this method, over several months and multiple victims, suggests a level of planning and calculation that belies her claim of lacking murderous intent. Yet, in the courtroom, Kim’s demeanor remained calm, even as the accusations mounted and the families’ grief filled the air.
The case has also raised broader questions about motive and responsibility. Prosecutors argue that Kim’s background—marked by familial strife and social isolation—played a role in her descent into crime. They contend that her "emotional and social immaturity" left her vulnerable to destructive impulses, and that her need for economic satisfaction drove her to exploit and ultimately harm those around her. It’s a narrative that, while not excusing her actions, seeks to explain them in human terms.
Still, for the victims’ families, such explanations offer little comfort. Their statements outside the courthouse were pointed and unsparing. "Kim So-young has never once apologized and continues to lie shamelessly, mocking the justice system," they told reporters, as quoted by Munhwa Ilbo. Their demand was clear and unwavering: nothing less than the death penalty would suffice.
The trial is expected to continue for several weeks, with both sides preparing to present extensive evidence and witness testimony. The outcome is far from certain. South Korea, while retaining the death penalty in law, has not carried out an execution in nearly three decades. Whether this case will prompt a different result remains to be seen.
For now, the families of the victims wait—grieving, hoping, and demanding justice for their lost loved ones. As the legal process unfolds, the nation watches closely, grappling with the horror of the crimes and the difficult questions they raise about punishment, motive, and the meaning of justice itself.
In the end, the story of Kim So-young’s trial is not just about one defendant or her victims, but about a society’s struggle to reconcile loss, accountability, and the hope that such tragedies might one day be prevented.