These days, there is one phrase I hear far more often than before when speaking with clients.

“I asked ChatGPT, and it said this…”

A few years ago, clients used to lower their voice and ask a different question.

“Do you happen to know the prosecutor personally?”

Times have changed, and naturally the form of the question has changed as well. But in truth, both questions carry the exact same anxiety underneath them.

What is the real force that will determine the outcome of my case, and can I rely on that force?

Artificial intelligence is already being widely used throughout legal practice. AI can analyze 370,000 KakaoTalk messages in just five minutes. Ignoring such powerful analytical tools would, in many situations, do a disservice to clients.

So the real question is not whether artificial intelligence is useful.

The real question is something else entirely.

No matter how advanced technology becomes, is there something lawyers do that AI ultimately can never replace?

There is.

And somewhat surprisingly, the answer lies in one of the most analog moments in legal practice.

It is the moment when a lawyer picks up the phone, calls the prosecutor who holds decision-making authority over another person’s future, introduces himself by name, explains the case, and attempts to persuade.

At this point, one misunderstanding needs to be addressed.

Many people assume that when a lawyer directly contacts a prosecutor to present legal arguments, this is only possible because of former insider connections or what is commonly called jeongwan privilege.

In reality, that is simply not true.

Whether acting as defense counsel for a suspect or as legal representative for a complainant, explaining the facts of a case and presenting legal arguments directly to the assigned prosecutor is not some privilege reserved for former prosecutors.

It is a right open to every lawyer.

If what people commonly call former official privilege means using personal connections to influence an outcome regardless of the merits of the case itself, then what a lawyer does when formally speaking directly to the decision-maker is something fundamentally different.

It is persuasion.

It is not an improper request asking for special treatment.

It is saying:

“These are the facts of this case, and based on these legal principles, this matter should be evaluated in this way.”

This is not an improper favor sought in the shadows.

It is a legitimate presentation of legal opinion made by a lawyer through proper procedure.

Its nature is fundamentally different.

What that single phone call from a lawyer actually accomplishes is far more important than many realize.

Among hundreds or even thousands of pending cases sitting on a prosecutor’s desk, the lawyer must explain the client’s case accurately, clearly, and concisely — often in less than one minute.

The lawyer learns what the prosecutor believes is still missing from the case.

Which facts remain unclear.

What evidence requires supplementation.

What explanations have not yet been sufficiently made.

Then the lawyer identifies that gap, determines how to strengthen further legal arguments, confirms procedural progress, and communicates all of that directly back to the client.

Once this process happens, the client is no longer someone passively waiting in darkness for an unexpected notice to arrive.

The client now understands where the case stands, what remains necessary, and how their lawyer is actively working to fill those gaps.

In criminal proceedings, what causes the greatest anxiety is often not a bad result itself.

It is receiving a sudden conclusion while understanding absolutely nothing about what happened beforehand.

This is precisely the point artificial intelligence can never fill.

AI may provide answers.

But it cannot step into a living legal process and act on my behalf, under its own name, carrying responsibility for my case.

Of course, even if a lawyer makes that phone call, there is no guarantee the prosecutor will answer.

There is no guarantee the prosecutor will accept the lawyer’s arguments.

But directly and persuasively communicating the factual circumstances and legal reasoning of a case to the person making the decision — and timely supplementing what remains incomplete — is legitimate advocacy, and powerful advocacy.

It is always worth attempting.

Because even when the case file itself remains identical, the outcome can change depending on whether the matter is explained only through written documents, or whether those same arguments are also delivered through human conversation.

Decision-makers are human beings.

And persuasion is fundamentally human work.

Reading hesitation in another person.

Responding in real time.

Standing behind one’s own words and taking responsibility for what is said.

This kind of work — work done through human speech — ultimately remains the domain of human beings.

Artificial intelligence cannot place its own name behind an argument and persuade someone on another person’s behalf.

And if we think carefully, what clients truly seek is not simply a well-written legal brief.

What truly reassures them is knowing that their lawyer personally picked up the phone, spoke under their own name, and stood before the decision-maker to speak on their behalf.

That is where real comfort comes from.

In that sense, the question “If AI can do everything, do we still need lawyers?” is not all that different from the question clients used to ask years ago:

“Do you need to be a former prosecutor to win my case?”

Both questions are ultimately asking the exact same thing.

“Is there someone who will stand on my side and speak for me directly to the person making the decision?”

The answer does not depend on whether a lawyer has insider connections.

And it does not depend on how advanced AI becomes.

Between the client whose hands tremble merely standing before a prosecutor, and the prosecutor buried beneath thousands of case files—

that space in between is exactly where a criminal defense lawyer, carrying both responsibility and a name of their own, must stand.

– Kim Min-hoo
Attorney, Suhn Law Group