A plea to escape North Korea — and the fear that it might be a trap
Image: iStock/tabcreator
“Are you Kim Yu-mi? I’m contacting you because I’m in an urgent situation. I’m currently in China, and I need help.”
On October 14, I received an email that began with those words. The sender identified themselves as a North Korean seeking to escape from China. They explained that surveillance was so intense that making phone calls was difficult and that escaping without the help of a local broker would not be easy. They asked about possible escape routes through Southeast Asia or Mongolia. They also said they had seen me on YouTube and on Channel A’s television program “Now on My Way to Meet You.”
My heart sank when I first read the email. I had lived in North Korea myself. Knowing how terrified a North Korean in China might be of being caught and forcibly repatriated, I found it difficult simply to ignore the plea.
So I replied on October 16. I thanked the sender for reaching out and asked when and how they had arrived in China, whether they were currently safe, and whether they could share whatever information they felt comfortable providing. But no reply came. I have heard nothing from them since.
Afterward, all kinds of thoughts crossed my mind. Had the person been caught? Had the conversation ended because I had not contacted them through Telegram? Or had there been another motive behind the email from the beginning? The truth is, I still don’t know.
There were several things about the message that troubled me. Although the sender said it was difficult to use a phone, they provided their Telegram ID and said they could communicate through the messaging app “at any time.” They also wrote that they had “obtained” my email address.
Without revealing their name or precise location, they asked for information about escape routes and help making contact with brokers. They also requested that I not inform South Korea’s National Intelligence Service or anyone else.
One phrase in particular struck me as unusual: “I made an effort to communicate in South Korean.” Why would someone who identified themselves as being from North Korea put it that way? I wondered. The sender also said, “I can even pay you once I get to South Korea.”
Still, none of these expressions was enough to conclude that the message was fake. The sender might have been someone uncomfortable writing in Korean, or someone concealing their identity out of fear for their safety. The request to communicate through Telegram also made me uneasy, but it was not, in itself, evidence of malicious intent.
Why, then, did the email make me think of hackers?
It reminded me of a hacking case I knew about. Someone had clicked on a link sent by a hacker, allowing their account and personal information to be stolen. The hacker then used the compromised account to send links to people in the victim’s contact list. Believing the messages had come from someone they knew, recipients clicked on the links and became victims themselves.
Once one person’s account had been compromised, the hacker exploited not only that account but also the trust others placed in its owner.
Similar tactics have been reported in cyberattacks linked to North Korea.
In a case reported in March 2026, cybersecurity firm Genians analyzed an attack in which perpetrators allegedly gained access to a computer through an email disguised as a notice of appointment as a lecturer on North Korean human rights. The attackers then reportedly used a compromised KakaoTalk account to send malicious files to the victim’s acquaintances.
Another incident was reported in 2025, involving malicious files sent to acquaintances through a compromised account in a network supporting North Korean defectors.
These cases illustrate how someone who initially falls victim to a cyberattack can unknowingly become a channel for attacks on others.
That does not mean the email I received was a hacking attempt. The sender did not send me any links or files, and I did not provide any account credentials or sensitive information. There is no evidence establishing who was behind the email or what their intentions were.
Nevertheless, reflecting on my own experience and cases involving people around me made me realize that even when someone asks for help, there needs to be a safe way to establish who they are.
I used to live in a frontline border area of North Korea. There, I always had to be careful about what I said because I never knew who might hear my words or to whom they might be passed on.
Now, three years after arriving in South Korea, I find myself questioning the identity of a stranger who sends me an email.
There is something bitterly ironic about it. In North Korea, I had to be wary of people because of surveillance. In South Korea, I find myself being cautious again, this time because of impersonation and hacking.
But that does not mean I can automatically distrust everyone who asks for help. At the same time, providing escape routes or sharing other people’s contact information without first establishing someone’s identity could put others in even greater danger.
If the sender contacts me again, I intend to avoid personally connecting them with a broker. Instead, I will try to establish what I can about their circumstances without compromising anyone’s safety and direct them to assistance through official support organizations.
If the person who contacted me that day happens to be reading this article, I want you to know that I am not demanding that you prove who you are before anything else.
The questions I cautiously asked were not an attempt to turn my back on you. I asked them because I did not want to put you, or anyone else, in greater danger while trying to help.
I hope you can share something about your current situation, to whatever extent it is safe and comfortable for you to do so, and seek assistance through a trustworthy official support organization.
I still do not know who sent that email. All I know for certain is that I received a message asking for help, replied to it, and heard nothing more.
Yet that single email left me with a question.
When hackers exploit the trust between people, do we end up doubting even the voices of those who genuinely need our help?
I do not want to close the door on someone simply because I have doubts. But when I reach out a hand to help someone, I also want to make sure that we are both safe.
Kim Yumi, a North Korean defector, was born and raised in Haeju, South Hwanghae Province, a coastal military area. Growing up near a naval base, she was able to secretly watch South Korean news programs and TV shows, thereby uncovering the vibrant, democratic society of South Korea. Yumi and her husband made the brave decision to escape North Korea and seek a better future. Now in Seoul, she is actively involved in raising awareness about the realities of life in North Korea, especially on her YouTube channel, “@KimYumiTV.”
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