A contract to kill: How a law student was accused of an affair, stalked and murdered
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- CHO JUNG-WOO
- [email protected]
Ha Ji-hye, a law student at Ewha Womans University who was killed in March 2002, smiles in an undated photo. [SCREEN CAPTURE]
[KOREAN CRIME FILES #6]
Behind the glitz and glamor seen in pop culture, Korea’s grimmest and most harrowing crime stories, some more well-known than others, continue to haunt society today. The Korea JoongAng Daily takes a deep dive into some of these stories, sharing a glimpse into the darker side of society as well as the most up-to-date known facts. — Ed.
In the early hours of March 6, 2002, Ha Ji-hye’s father, half asleep, heard his daughter leave the house.
"Why is she going to swimming class at this hour?" her father thought to himself.
Ji-hye's father, worried about his daughter's safety, advised her to go swimming later in the morning. Ji-hye left, briefly returned to grab an umbrella after finding that it was raining outside, and left again. That was the last he ever heard from her.
Later that afternoon, Ha Ji-hye, a 22-year-old law student, failed to show up to meet her boyfriend. She didn’t answer her phone.
Her father rushed to the pool, only to learn she had never arrived. In tears, he pleaded with police to search for her, explaining she had been stalked before.
Days later, CCTV footage showed Ji-hye leaving the apartment with her umbrella. Two men followed close behind her, and a van drove past soon after.
Her family searched desperately. Ten days later, police called with grim news.
Ji-hye’s body had been found in the mountains of Hanam, Gyeonggi, about 20 kilometers (12.4 miles) from Seoul. She was hidden under leaves inside a rice sack.
She had been shot with an air rifle — four times in the face and twice in the back of the head.
Kim Yong-ki, one of Ha Ji-hye’s killers, demonstrates the murder on a mountain in Hanam, Gyeonggi, on April 15, 2003. [JOONGANG ILBO]
A family's plan
For Ji-hye, who dreamed of becoming a public defender, every hour mattered. As a senior at Seoul's prestigious Ewha Womans University's law college, she was busy preparing for the bar exam. To make the best use of her time, she swam for a workout at dawn before her classes started.
However, even before her disappearance, Ji-hye had been followed for two years. She filed a complaint with the police and even sought a restraining order.
The person behind the stalking wasn't a stranger. It was her cousin’s mother-in-law, a woman named Yoon Gil-ja. Yoon hired at least 25 people to shadow Ji-hye. Later, she ordered them to follow Ji-hye's cousin as well, the man who was her son-in-law.
The reason? Yoon was convinced they were having an affair.
Money, marriage and suspicion
Yoon always wanted her daughter to marry the “right man.”
Ji-hye’s cousin was a judge, and his prestigious position made him a highly sought-after match. Through a broker, he married the daughter of a mid-sized company owner. Believing the judge was a suitable partner, Yoon's family gave 700 million won ($504,470) to his family as part of the marriage arrangement.
At the time, many elite families arranged marriages through a matchmaker, often pairing wealth with elite professions considered socially prestigious. The bride’s family also paid the matchmaker a 30 million won fee, which the groom’s family was likewise expected to cover. But they refused, with the judge telling his parents the payment was not legally required.
Kim Yong-ki and Yoon Nam-shin, Ha Ji-hye's killers, demonstrate the killing on a mountain in Hanam, Gyeonggi, on April 15, 2003. [JOONGANG ILBO]
That refusal lit the fuse. The matchmaker, furious at losing her fee, sought revenge. She hired someone to call Yoon and claim her son-in-law was having an affair. Suspicion spread quickly. Yoon began watching him more closely.
One day, she overheard him on the phone with a young woman. She asked who he was speaking to. To deflect suspicion, he blurted out the name of his cousin, Ha Ji-hye, thinking it would calm his mother-in-law’s doubts. It was a fatal mistake.
Two years in the shadow
Convinced her son-in-law was cheating, Yoon ordered her nephew — who also worked as her driver — Yoon Nam-shin, to track Ji-hye. At least 25 people were hired to follow Ji-hye and the judge.
“He must be cheating,” she said.
“I raised a son-in-law from nothing, and he betrays me," she told a man she hired to stalk Ji-hye, telling him she'd pay him 3 million won to bring proof of the alleged affair.
Ha Ji-hye smells flowers in an undated photo. [SCREEN CAPTURE]
The surveillance stretched on for two years. Their reports back to Yoon were always the same: the young woman studied, went home and studied again. Ji-hye rarely strayed from her routine.
Since the wedding, the cousins had spoken only twice, according to Ji-hye. Both conversations were about the bar exam. Still, Yoon grew more obsessed.
A contract to kill
Despite endless reports that showed no sign of an affair, Yoon refused to believe them. Her conclusion was always the same: the affair existed, and the evidence had yet to surface.
Finally, she escalated. She ordered her nephew, Yoon Nam-shin, to kill Ji-hye. The nephew, who was struggling financially at the time, received 50 million won as a down payment. Believing he could not carry out the crime alone, he recruited his high school friend, Kim Yong-ki, a loan shark. Together, they were to receive 175 million won for killing Ji-hye.
The two waited for an opportunity. They even plotted to poison her drink if she went to the bathroom at a cafe. But Ji-hye rarely lingered in cafes.
Yoon Gil-ja pressed them harder. At one point, she even demanded her money back. Unwilling to forfeit the payment, the two began searching for a way to fulfill her order.
Kim Yong-ki demonstrates the kidnapping of Ha Ji-hye on April 15, 2003. [JOONGANG ILBO]
Then she gave them a final tip that Ji-hye swam early in the morning. It was a detail Yoon had learned by stalking Ji-hye herself.
The men bought an air rifle.
Connections in Ha Ji-hye case [YUN YOUNG]
Tracking the suspects
Months before Ji-hye’s disappearance, her father remembered meeting a man. The man approached him under the guise of business, claiming to have been introduced by someone else.
Her father, a former executive at a large conglomerate who had gone on to start his own business, was suspicious. Something felt off. He cut ties but had kept the man’s business card. Remembering his suspicious appearance, he gave the card to the police, who used it to trace the office.
When police later showed him a photograph, he recognized the man immediately.
Yoon Nam-shin, second from left, and Kim Yong-gi, Ha Ji-hye's killers, arrive in Korea on April 11, 2003, after fleeing abroad for a year. [JOONGANG ILBO]
Telecommunication records confirmed that on the day Ji-hye vanished, the man had been near her home. Later, he was in the area where her body was found. He had also purchased an air rifle. The man was identified as Kim Yong-ki.
Days after Ji-hye’s body was discovered, Kim and Yoon fled the country. Ji-hye's father heard they were in Vietnam. He went there himself. He searched for them, working with police, Korean residents and Interpol. A tip then led him to China.
A year after Ji-hye disappeared, the two who carried out the contract killing were finally arrested in China and repatriated to Korea. At first, they denied involvement. But under questioning, Yoon confessed.
“My aunt asked us to get rid of that college student,” he told police.
Justice circumvented
Yoon Gil-ja leaves a police precinct in Gyeonggi to attend her pretrial warrant hearing on Aug. 20, 2002. [JOONGANG ILBO]
In June 2004, the Supreme Court handed down life sentences to Yoon Gil-ja and the contract killers — her nephew and Kim. Nothing could ease Ji-hye’s family’s grief, but at least the killers were behind bars.
However, less than a decade later, a scandal unfurled. An investigative broadcast revealed that Yoon was not in prison. She was living in a spacious VIP hospital ward that cost more than 2 million won a day. She had received repeated suspensions of her sentence, justified by a fraudulent medical certificate.
The document listed 12 illnesses, including Parkinson’s disease, diabetes, asthma and breast cancer. Between July 2007 and June 2013, she applied for suspension three times, with each application being extended a total of seven times.
Footage shows Yoon Gil-ja acting sick in front of a doctor at a VIP ward in a hospital while staying there after requesting a suspension of her sentence. [SCREEN CAPTURE]
Public outrage followed. Yoon was sent back to prison, and the doctor who issued the false certificate was fined 5 million won. Yoon’s husband, Ryu Won-ki, chairman of the flour mill company now called Hantop, was indicted for bribing the doctor with at least $10,000 to obtain the certificate.
However, the Supreme Court upheld the lower court’s ruling that Ryu was not guilty of bribery. Instead, he was convicted of embezzling company funds.
“The embezzlement and breach of trust for which he was found guilty are unrelated to Yoon. He cannot be punished more harshly simply because he is her husband,” the appellate court said.
Destructive aftermath
In the meantime, Ji-hye’s cousin stayed on the bench. In 2012, he left the judiciary to open a private law office and remained in his marriage. A year later, he broke his decade-long silence in an interview with the Monthly JoongAng magazine published in August. He stressed his relationship with Ji-hye was nothing more than that of cousins.
On his silence, he said, “I couldn’t abandon my wife’s family, nor turn my back on my aunt and uncle. Silence was the only choice.”
He added, “I speak now because I feel obliged to answer my children when they are old enough to ask about it.”
Ji-hye’s parents never recovered. They waited 13 years before officially registering her death.
A doctor who issued a fraudulent medical certificate for Yoon Gil-ja appears in a screen capture from SBS’s true crime program Unanswered Questions. [SCREEN CAPTURE]
A month later, her mother was found dead, her body reportedly discovered at home surrounded by empty bottles and cans of soju and beer. She had been drinking daily and weighed only 38 kilograms (84 pounds), despite being 165 centimeters (5 feet, 4 inches) tall.
In 2021, Ji-hye’s father wrote to the SBS true crime program "Kkokkomu," which revisited her case.
“I would not feel this furious and upset if the person who planned the murder had shown a sign of apology and regret,” he said.
“When I think of my wife, my heart aches. I deeply regret that I was unable to protect everything close to me. No matter what, I am full of regret," he added.
"I wish the years of this world would pass quickly, like a time machine, and disappear. I want to see Ji-hye soon.”
BY CHO JUNG-WOO [[email protected]]





with the Korea JoongAng Daily
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