Seicho Matsumoto Selections:The Cooperative Defendant
The Case Seemed Simple: A Tale of Deception and Justice
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THE case seemed simple....On an autumn night, a sixty-two-year-old moneylender was clubbed todeath in his own home by a twenty-eight-year-old man. The murderer stole acashbox from the victim's house and fled. The box contained twenty-twopromissory notes. Of these notes, the killer stole five, then threw the cashboxinto a nearby irrigation pond. The murdered moneylender's house waslocated in a western part of Tokyo that was beginning to prosperarchitecturally, but at the time of the killing, the immediate vicinity was stillroughly half agricultural fields.
When the young lawyer, Naomi Harajima, received word from hislawyers' association that he had been designated court-assigned counsel forthe case, he did not much like the idea and was on the verge of refusing. He already had three private cases on his hands, and they were keeping himoccupied.
The president of Harajima's lawyers' association argued that he wouldvery much like him to take the case. It appeared that one other lawyer hadalready been appointed but had suddenly taken ill. The trial was scheduledfor an early date. The court would obviously be embarrassed if no legalrepresentative for the defendant was found.
The president said, "Besides, Harajima—this case is nothing much. Comeon, now, man—at least give it the once over. All right?"
Section 3 of Article 7 of the Japanese Constitution makes provision forstate-assigned legal counsel in cases where the defendant is too poor or forsome other reason unable to procure legal advice (Article 36, Criminal LegalProcedural Code).
Since the state pays, the legal fee is extremely low; busy lawyers usuallydo not want these cases, though sometimes humane reasons for aiding adefendant enter in. The association attempts to divide these duties among itsmembers on a rotational basis, but any attorney is free to refuse. But something must be done....
Accordingly, cases like this usually find their way into the hands oflawyers who are quite young, or who are not too busy.
Because the fee is small, handling of such cases often becomes lesscareful than it might otherwise be.
Recently the reputation of the system has improved slightly. But actually,these men, often disinterested or very busy, may do no more than give thecase a brief run-through before the trial and meet the defendant for the firsttime in the courtroom. Things will never be completely remedied until feesfor court-assigned counsel are raised.
Harajima was urged to defend Torao Ueki in the case of the murder of JinYamagishi, because the work was simple. He finally agreed.
In reading the documents pertaining to the indictment, the records of thecriminal investigation, Harajima learned the following things.
Originally, the victim, Jin Yamagishi, had owned a rather large amount ofagricultural land. But he had sold this to a realtor. With the money accrued,he built a two-story house and immediately opened a small-scale financingbusiness. This had happened ten years ago. At the time of the murder, Yamagishi lived alone. Childless, his wife had died three years before.Yamagishi rented the second floor of his house to a young primary-schoolteacher and his wife. The rent was not high, though the old moneylender hada reputation for being greedy. He was impressed because the schoolteacherhad a second-dan black belt in judo. In other words, the young man would bea combination tenant and guard.
Any elderly person living alone might want protection. In this case, it wasstill more important for Yamagishi, since he had made a bad name bycharging high interest on the money he lent. Many of his customers weresmall businessmen trying hard to succeed in a newly developing part ofTokyo. The neighborhood was along one of the private commuter train lines.A good location. But population growth had been slow, and business was notthriving. Some of the people who paid Yamagishi's high rates went bankrupt.There were cases in which older people used their retirement funds to openstores. They put shop and land down as security for loans from Yamagishi.He took everything when they could no longer keep up their payments.
Customers in other districts along the same train line suffered because ofYamagishi's behavior. It was not alone fear of thieves but also the knowledgeof the many people who hated him that encouraged the moneylender to installthe young judo expert and his wife in the upstairs apartment.
On October 15, the young teacher received word that his mother was closeto death. He and his wife left that day for their hometown. The murder tookplace on October 18, and Yamagishi's body was discovered by a neighbor onthe morning of October 19. This person found the front door open (later itwas disclosed that all other windows and doors were firmly secured withrain shutters that were locked from within), entered the hallway, andimmediately saw Yamagishi stretched out face down in the adjacent room.Fearful, he called out. There was no answer from the inert form.
He reported the matter to the police.
Autopsy revealed the cause of death to be brain concussion and cerebralhemorrhage, caused by a blow on the head. An area about as large as thepalm of an adult hand was caved in and flattened at the back of the skull. Thewound had been fatal. Yamagishi had tumbled forward and expired in acrawling position. He had apparently been struck from behind and, afterfalling, had crawled a short distance on hands and knees.
From the contents of the victim's stomach, it was ascertained that he haddied about three hours after his last meal. Yamagishi, who cooked forhimself, was in the habit of eating dinner around six. This would mean thatthe murder took place between nine and ten, an assumption that agreed withthe autopsy doctor's estimation of lapse of postmortem time.
Nothing in the room was disturbed. In a smaller bedroom next to the one inwhich the corpse was discovered, a sliding cupboard door was open. Theblack-painted steel cashbox in which Yamagishi kept his customers'promissory notes and other documents was missing. Japanese-style beddingwas spread out on the floor of this room. The top quilt was pulled partlyback. The sheets and pillowcase were wrinkled but not violently disordered.This suggested that Yamagishi must have gotten out of bed and walked intothe next room. He habitually retired at nine o'clock (testimony of the youngteacher and his wife).
It was apparent that Yamagishi had opened the front door of the househimself, letting the murderer in. Usually the door was locked by means of astout wooden pole forced against the frame in such a way as to make openingfrom the outside impossible. When the body was discovered this pole stoodin the entranceway beside the door. Only Yamagishi could have removed itand opened up from inside.
Someone Yamagishi knew and who knew his habits well must have cometo visit.
Why was the greedy, suspicious old man willing to get out of bed andadmit someone at the hour of nine o'clock at night?
There were no reported rumors about Jin Yamagishi's masculinity. He wasnot prohibitively old. But perhaps because of his curious personality orstinginess, from his youth he hadn't much been interested in women. Theperson who called at nine that night must have been a man.
Not one of the neighbors had heard anybody knocking on the oldmoneylender's door or calling out to him on the night of the murder. If he hadalready gone to sleep, anyone who called loud enough to wake him in theinner sleeping room would have been heard. Possibly the telephone hadroused him. The instrument stood on a small table in a corner of the roomwhere he slept. The murderer could have called Yamagishi first to tell him hewas coming. Yamagishi then removed the pole from the front door and waited. He must have been quite familiar with the person, if this were true.He did not know he waited for his death.
The stolen cashbox gave some hints about the killer. It containedpromissory notes from the people who had borrowed from Yamagishi, plusrenewals for payment of interest and other promissory contracts. Themurderer obviously knew both the contents and the location of the cashbox.His purpose had been to steal the promissory notes.
Under a Buddhist shrine in the house, the detectives discovered 150,000yen in cash. But nothing was disturbed; there was no trace of the killer'shaving tried to find it.
Two days after the crime, the police had arrested Torao Ueki.
One of the investigators learned that a Mr. Nakamura, while looking out ofhis bathroom window, had seen a man hurrying at a run down the street in thedirection of Yamagishi's house. This man looked very much like theproprietor of a noodle shop near the train station.
Torao Ueki had opened a noodle shop next to the train station three yearsearlier. About a year ago, he had purchased some of the neighboring land andexpanded and remodeled his shop, not because business was on the upswing,but because he wanted to compete with a new noodle shop in the vicinity. Hehad hoped that by enlarging and improving his place he would attract morecustomers. He did not. The number of customers decreased. But to purchasethe land and make renovations, he had borrowed money from Yamagishi at ahigh rate of interest.
With the interest and the drop in business, Ueki was in a tight spot. But hehad a hunch that, in a bit, the number of houses in the neighborhood wouldincrease, causing a rise in daily commuters on the trains. His shop was infront of the station, an excellent location. He decided to stick it out. ButYamagishi's exorbitant interest payments were getting the better of him. Hecouldn't sit back calmly and wait for a brighter tomorrow. From the age ofeighteen till twenty-five, he had worked in a secondhand bookshop in thecenter of town. The restaurant business was completely new to him.
Ueki had suffered deeply because of his connection with Yamagishi. Themoneylender was merciless in exacting his due. The note had been renewed anumber of times, and the interest came to four times the original loan. Whenthe murder took place, Ueki owed Yamagishi seven and a half million yen.Yamagishi felt that if the debt rose still more, Ueki would never be able to repay, so he would assume ownership of the land and shop, which had beenput up as security. This disturbed Ueki terribly and had recently causedtrouble. Ueki hated Yamagishi. He told certain persons that he would like to"kill that old man!"
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There were many other people who hated Yamagishi enough to kill him.But to be a suspect, there had to be the lack of an alibi for the hour from ninetill ten on the night of the crime. The suspect had to be known to the victimand have knowledge that the schoolteacher and his wife were out of town. Hehad to posses detailed knowledge concerning the layout of Yamagishi's houseand the exact location of the cashbox. And, judging from the brutal wound onthe back of the victim's head, he had to be quite strong.
No fingerprints belonging to the killer were discovered. There werenumerous other fingerprints, but they were smeared, except for somebelonging to the couple upstairs. They, though, had the clear alibi of being inKyushu at the time of the murder. The remaining prints probably were thoseof people who came to see Yamagishi on financial business. All the printswere old.
The killer left no weapon behind. No suspicious footprints were found,and the entrance hall was floored with concrete, so such prints were unlikely.The pole that latched the front door was considered as a possible murderweapon, yet it seemed too lightweight, slender, to have caused the fatalwound. The only prints on it were Yamagishi's. Yamagishi had been almostcompletely bald, and had bled little. Neither blood nor hair would be foundon the weapon.
Under the eaves at the back of the house was a stack of pine logs, cut forfuel. Town gas had not yet been piped to the area. Most of the residents usedbottled propane. Yamagishi, however, in his miserliness and accustomed tofarmhouse ways, fired his cooking stove with wood. The pine logs had beencarefully split into pieces with roughly triangular cross sections some fourcentimeters to a side. It seemed that several blows with such a log couldcause the kind of wound that killed Yamagishi. Detectives checked the top tenof perhaps thirty bundles of firewood in the stack, but the rough surfacesmade it difficult to trace prints. It was, in fact, next to impossible. Therewere no findings of blood or hair.
With this information on the condition of the body and scene of the crimein his mind, Harajima read the report of the confession made by Ueki:
"Must have been nearly two years ago, I got money from Jin Yamagishi. Itwas at a damned high rate of interest. Since that time, I suffered because ofthe debt. Just lately, he made a threat—said he'd auction off my shop andland; they were put up as security for the loan. Everything I had was used tobuy the land and open the noodle shop. Later on, I borrowed money fromYamagishi to enlarge and improve my shop. But business didn't go so well. Ithought it would be better. That and Yamagishi's crazy demands drove me todespair. Yes. I decided my wife and children, and I, would commit suicidetogether. But, by God, before I died, I wanted to kill that old man. It wouldatleast be something for the sake of all the other people he brought to grief.
"October 18, I was in the Manpaiso mahjong parlor, maybe two hundredmeters from the train station. From ll!aybe seven in the evening, with friends—Nakada, Maeda, and Nishikawa—playing mahjong. Lately, seeing how wedon't have many customers, I leave the shop to my wife in the evening, andplay mahjong or kill the time one way or the other. We played maybe threegames, I think, when Shibata came in and started watching. He comes to themahjong parlor pretty often. He wanted to join the game. I said, 'Look, I'vegot to run home for something. Why don't you sit in for me?' It made himhappy. I left the Manpaiso at maybe nine o'clock.
"But I didn't go home. I went over to the phone booth in front of the stationand called Yamagishi. After a time, he answered. I told him I wanted to talkabout him taking my property. I told him I'd managed to get together twomillion yen and I'd bring it with me right now. I said maybe he couldpostpone his claim on the land and shop, we could talk. At first he was kindof angry, interrupting, saying he'd gone to bed. Then he smoothed out,changed his mind when I mentioned the money. 'Okay, c'mon over. I'mwaiting.' He sounded even impatient.
"It's about a half a mile to Yamagihsi's. After a bit there aren't manyhouses, only fields and two irrigation ponds. I didn't meet anybody. There aretwelve or thirteen houses along by Yamagishi's. But Mr. Nakamura's house isoff the street a ways, some distance. I had no idea he'd be able to see mefrom his toilet window. He eats at our noodle shop.
"Just like he said he would, Yamagishi had opened the door. I knew theteacher and his woman had gone to Kyushu three or four days ago. The teacher eats at the shop. He told me himself.
"Before I went to the door, I went around behind the house. I huntedaround and found a chunk of wood from the pile I knew was there. Nobodywas home upstairs, either—I made sure. All the windows were shuttered. Nosign of light anywhere through the cracks.
"So I went to the door. I stepped into the hallway and called to Yamagishi.He came to meet me. There was a light in the other room. I held the hunk ofwood behind me. It was shadowy.
"'You know, it's late,' he said. But he was grinning and didn't seem upset.He was sure as the devil thinking about the two million. 'It's okay, though,' hesaid. 'C'mon, in.'
"I tried to stall, thinking about the piece of wood. I said something aboutbeing sorry to disturb him so late, and all. Told him I'd managed to gettogether two million yen. I didn't want to leave it home for fear of thieves.
"'C'mon, c'mon,' he said, moving into the next room. He pulled two seatcushions from a stack in the corner and put them by a table. I kept the woodbehind me as I stepped up into the main part of the house from the hall. Thesecond I sat on the cushion, I stuck it underneath, behind me, and said, 'Ibrought the money; how's for writing me a receipt?' I figured the subject ofmoney would keep his attention. I let him see the fake newspaper-wrappedparcel I'd fixed, bulging from my front pocket. He figured it was the money,okay. He jumped up to go into the next room, probably for blank receipts.
"I thought, this is it, and leaped up, too. In one move I smashed him on theback of his bald head with the chunk of wood. I gave it everything. He gave ahell of a yell and fell on his face. I bent down and smashed him three moretimes on the back of the head. He lay there on his face and didn't move. Then,to make it look like I'd been a thief and not a guest, I put the two cushionsback on the pile in the corner.
"Then I went into the next room to look for the cashbox. I found it in thecupboard. I wanted to take it out and tear up the notes like he'd made mesuffer, but I didn't know the combination to the lock. I decided to take the boxwith me. After I left the house, I put the piece of wood on the pile in back. Idon't remember exactly where. It was dark. It took maybe thirty minutes, alltold.
"The moon was coming up now. I went down the road a little ways, thenwalked off it into a clump of deep grass. I hunted around, found a large stone, and cracked the lock on the cashbox. I looked quickly through the promissorynotes, took the ones with my name on them, along with five or six others. Iput these in my pocket. It was hard to see, but I'd been able to make out thenames in the pale moonlight. I tossed the box into the irrigation pond on myright. Then I went along to the playground of a life-insurance company, notfar away, where I lit a match and burned the notes I'd been carrying in mypocket. I scuffed the ashes into the ground.
"I was plenty surprised when the police told me they had recovered thecashbox from the pond, and that my notes were still there. It turned out thatYamagishi's account book had a customer with a name like mine: TomioInoki. The police claimed I must've been mistaken, thinking his notes weremine, in the dark. I'd destroyed the wrong ones. Inoki's notes were missingfrom the box. I was very excited at the time, so it could have been like that.
"After I'd done all this, I went back to the Manpaiso, where my friendswere still playing mahjong. I watched maybe ten minutes, till Nakada wonthe round. Then I took Shibata's place and played a round myself. None ofthem knew I'd just murdered a man. If I say so, I was very calm. I guess itwas because I had no guilt feelings about having killed Yamagishi.
"I slept well that night. I had burned the notes. Yamagishi had no heirs.The debts would be canceled. I felt happy and relieved.
"The next day, the news of the death caused a big stir in the neighborhood.But there was no one to feel sorry about it. I felt fine when people said it wasgood he was gone, that he got what was coming to him.
"Two days later, I was watching television in the shop, when twodetectives came. They asked me to come to the station. They had a few thingsto ask me. At the time, I knew it might be the end. Maybe it was wrong to killhim. But he deserved it. I made up my mind to tell the police everything. Ofcourse, if I could, I wanted to make it look like I wasn't guilty."
Reading all this, Harajima got the impression that the case was indeedsimple. It could arouse little interest in any lawyer, private or court-assigned:The best he could do would be to ask for clemency on the basis ofextenuating circumstances. But as he went on with the case report, he wassurprised. Ueki abruptly changed, and claimed to have nothing to do with themurder. He insisted the confession had been the result of psychologicaltorment and leading questions, plus a promise of leniency on the part of police investigators. Of course, defendants like Ueki made this kind of claimoften, especially in cases involving heavy punishment.
Just the same, from the evidence in these documents, Harajima feltreasonably sure Ueki was guilty. The written confession sounded natural andunforced. It agreed with the results of the police investigation on the murdersite and environs. It did not appear to have been made under police pressure,as Ueki claimed.
Nonetheless, in front of the public prosecutor, Torao Ueki had issuedanother deposition containing the following information.
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"It's true, as stated before, I was playing mahjong with Nakada, Maeda,and Nishikawa in the Manpaiso and that, after two games, Shibata took myplace. It's true, I went over to the phone booth in front of the station, calledJin Yamagishi, and told him I had to talk about the securities involved in theloan. It's also true he told me he was up and waiting—and that I went to hishouse. The rest of the statement I made at the police station, it's untrue.
"I didn't tell Yamagishi on the phone that I'd scraped together two millionyen. I could never find that much money. God. But the police kept on insistingYamagishi wouldn't get out of bed to see me 'less I'd brought money. Theyclaimed, if I'd just told him I wanted to see him, he'd say to wait till the nextday. They said I put something in my pocket that looked like a bundle ofmoney, before going to the house. So I thought about what they said. On thebasis of Yamagishi's personality, a third person would see eye-to-eye withthe police. So I agreed they were right.
"Actually, I simply told Yamagishi I wanted him to wait before takingpossession of the securities. If I lost the land and shop, my whole familywould have nothing to live on. I said I had an idea for a solution, and Iwanted him to listen. He said possession of the securities wasn't really whathe wanted—he'd only decided to take such a step because he didn't thinkthere was any hope of my repaying the money. If I had some proposal, he'dconsider it. He said I was to come, and that he'd leave the front door open.
"So I walked close to his house, but couldn't go in. I didn't have anydamned proposal to make. I was so damned worried about the loss of theland and shop, all I wanted to do was ask him to wait. But I knew this wouldonly make him angrier than ever. I couldn't bring myself to confront him. I felt bad. I just wandered around the neighborhood for maybe thirty minutes, thenstarted back.
"I didn't feel like playing mahjong. I wandered around the playground ofthe life-insurance company, while thinking over my troubles. It's a countryroad. I didn't meet anybody. I must've wandered like that for an hour before Iwent back to the mahjong parlor. The game was nearly over. I took Shibata'splace and played for a while. Since I'd done nothing wrong, I was calm. Myfriends testified to that. My wife says I slept well that night. After all, therewas nothing on my conscience. This is really what happened that night. I'llsay this about the false confession I gave earlier:
"First off, I told the police I didn't kill Yamagishi. They wouldn't listen.One after the other, detectives came into the room. They said it'd do no goodto lie. Said they had all the proof they needed. According to their side, thestolen cashbox had been recovered from one of the two irrigation ponds. Thecombination lock was smashed. Inside, they found twenty-two water-soakedpromissory notes, including mine—for seven and a half million yen. God.They said they compared the contents with Yamagishi's account book. Theysaid promissory notes of a man named Tomio Inoki were missing. They saidI'd made a mistake. Intending to steal my own notes, I'd misread the nameTomio Inoki for Torao Ueki. They said it happened because the charactersused to write the names are similar. And, also, because there was only a littlemoonlight that night.
"Then another detective came in. He said did I know Yoshiya Nakamura? Isaid, sure, because he's a customer at my shop. Then he said Nakamura mustknow my face pretty well, and I said, sure, that's right. The detective lookedreal proud of himself then, as if he'd won something, and told me Nakamurahad testified to seeing my hurrying in the direction of Yamagishi's houseabout five minutes after nine, on the night of the murder. Nakamura waslooking out his toilet window. The detective was all grins. He said Iprobably hadn't been aware of Nakamura's watching me, but it was too lateto evade. Now they had testimony of a man who'd seen me in the vicinity, theevidence of the cashbox—and my own admission of a motive. They said itwas 'unshakable evidence.' God. Then they said they sympathized with me. IfI'd confess, they'd have the public prosecutor release me, arrange to have thecase dropped. They were very pleasant to me when they said that I probablywanted to go home to my family and my work as soon as I could.
"I tried to explain why Nakamura had seen me through the window. Theywouldn't listen. They kept on promising to have the case dropped if I'd makea false confession. Well, I finally said, all right, I committed the murder. God.They were so happy they let me have cigarettes and ordered in food for me.So then I wrote a confession to their instructions. They wanted somethingelse. A map of the interior of Yamagishi's house. So, I did that.
"Writing, I ran into problems. First, I didn't know what kind of weapon tosay I used. One of the detectives said, looking at me like an owl, straight-faced, 'How about the stuff used for fuel in a stove?' I said, 'Sure, I beatYamagishi to death with a chip of coal.' The detective called me a fool, andsaid, 'Stump-head. The longish stuff they bring from mountain forests. Aboutthis long.' He gestured. 'Oh,' I said. 'Split logs?' 'That's right,' he said. 'Yousmacked his shiny old bald pate with a hunk of firewood.' Then he said,'C'mon, where's it kept?' I didn't know, you see. So I said, 'A corner in thekitchen.' Well, he got mad then. He shouted at me, 'No! It's a place where rainfalls on it. But only drops of rain. Drop, drop, drop!' He was probably tryingto be highly descriptive. 'Under the eaves?' I said. 'Right as rain!' he calledout.
"But what is written in the investigation report and that first depositionmakes a different impression: 'Before I went to the door, I went aroundbehind the house, I hunted around and found a chunk of wood from the pile Iknew was there.... So I went to the door, I stepped. into the hallway andcalled to Yamagishi.' It's true, the general meaning of the two statements issimilar. On the end of the confession is the sentence, 'I affix my signature tocertify that this transcription is identical in content to my oral testimony.'
"The detectives took me behind Yamagishi's place and asked me to showthem the piece of firewood I used for the murder weapon. But I hadn'tmurdered anybody! I was at a loss. 'How's for this one?' asked a detective,picking a log from about the second row on top. I think he had it in mind fromthe start. I said, 'All right,' and it was identified as the murder weapon. ThenI said, 'But there's no blood or hair on it.' They explained that there had beenno exterior bleeding and Yamagishi'd been bald. So, obviously there was noblood or hair. Then, like they were making fun of me, one said, 'IfYamagishi'd bled, we'd've been forced to paint blood of his type on the log.'When I asked about lack of my fingerprints, another said, 'Prints can't bedetected on a rough surface like that.' So he wrapped the log in cloth as apiece of material evidence.
"Then they asked how we'd been sitting when I killed Yamagishi. I said I'dhid the piece of wood in my hand, come in the hallway, and told him I hadtwo million yen with me. He asked me in. I took off my shoes, stepped upinto the main part of the house, and abruptly smashed him on the back of thehead with the piece of firewood.
"The detectives said it was impossible. So, they had a version. Since Iwas a guest, Yamagishi must've taken out two cushions, like he would. WhenI told him I'd come to pay two million, he probably rose to go into the nextroom for receipt blanks. That was, according to them, when I hit him on theback of the head. They added that I'd put the cushions back in the pile by thewall to suggest the murderer hadn't been a person received as a guest. By thistime, I was damned tired of arguing, and just said, 'Sure. That's how it was.'But they insisted I repeat it all, like they'd said it. So, I did that. Not verywell, actually. But I did like I was told.
"Next thing, they asked me how many times I struck him. 'Once,' I said.They said it wasn't enough to kill. 'How many times?' 'Six or seven.' But thatwas too many. If I'd hit him that many times he'd have bled more. 'Let's see,'one said. 'You just don't remember, but it's three times, right? Three times.'He spoke as if I were a child. Then he muttered, 'Three blows with a piece offirewood would make a wound like the one described in the autopsy report.'
"Then came the cashbox, breaking it open, taking the notes, mistakingTomio Inoki's name for mine—all of that was the detectives' suggestion. Theyasked about the pond where I threw the cashbox. I said, 'The one to the left.'They told me to think again. 'After all, there're only two.' So, I said the oneon the right. Now, if the real killer's prints could be found on that box, I'd beokay. The investigators said it was impossible to take prints from it, becauseit got coated with mud from the pond. According to them, I deliberately threwthe box in the mud to obscure fingerprints.
"Of course, I didn't know about the ashes they say they found in the weedsin the playground of the life-insurance company. Maybe the police burnedsome paper like the notes on their own. You can't read printing or writing onashes.
"I was so eager to go home, I fell into the police trap. They promised tohave the public prosecutor release me and have the case dismissed, if Iconfessed. They said they sympathized with my motive and wanted to helpme as much as they could. I believed them.
"They took me right from the jail to the detention house. The detectivessaid to tell the public prosecutor exactly what I'd said to them. If I saidanything different, they threatened to return me to the police and start all over.'This time, we'll really let you have it. You try denying the confession incourt, we'll see you get the limit. Play it smart, Ueki.'
"They frightened me. So, I told the public prosecutor the things like they'rewritten in the false confession. Then, finally, I found their promises aboutdropping the case, letting me go home, it was all a lie. I decided to come outwith the truth."
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After reading this deposition, Harajima couldn't decide whether the claimthat the confession had been made under police pressure was exaggerated ortrue. The first confession sounded unforced, natural. But, in its way, so didthe second. There were still some policemen who might resort to tactics ofthe kind Ueki described. As a lawyer, Harajima was tempted to lean towardthe second confession.
The public prosecutor's indictment refused to recognize the seconddeposition, insisting on considering the confession made before the police asevidence. The constitution (Article 38) states that confessions obtained bymeans of coercion, torture, or threats, and confessions obtained after undulylong detention are inadmissible as evidence. Confessions given as a result ofdeceptive interrogation—for instance, claiming that an accomplice hasadmitted guilt when he has not—or as an outcome of leading questionsslanted in favor of the interrogator, are to be regarded as forced. Suchevidence is insufficient to establish guilt.
Defendants often plead their confessions were forced in an attempt toprove their innocence. In such cases, corroborating evidence is of thegreatest importance in establishing guilt. Such evidence includes materialevidence, and testimonies of third parties. It can be divided into direct andindirect, or circumstantial, evidence.
Torao Ueki had borrowed money at high interest from Jin Yamagishi.Unable to pay, he faced the threat of having his securities seized. His desirefor murder was circumstantial evidence. He had no alibi for the time of thecrime. Testimonies of his friends, Nakada, Maeda, Nishikawa, and Shibata,and the manager and personnel of the Manpaiso mahjong parlor, established the fact that he had left the premises at around nine in the evening and hadreturned at ten.
Yoshiya Nakamura testifed that, shortly after the time Ueki left theManpaiso, he had been looking out of the window and had seen Ueki. He hadnot witnessed Ueki's entry into Yamagishi's house, or the murder. Therefore,his evidence was indirect.
Material evidence included the piece of firewood, and the cashbox fishedout of the irrigation pond. In searching, the police had dragged the pond andrecovered it. Ueki's fingerprints were not on the box. This has been explained. The following police report covers the question of prints on thefirewood:
"Question: With what did you strike Jin Yamagishi on the back of thehead?
"Answer: A chunk of pine log. Like they use in old-fashioned stoves."
"Question: About how long was the piece of wood?"
"Answer: Maybe thirty centimeters."
"Question: Where was it? "
"Answer: What?"
"Question: Where was the wood kept?"
"Answer: Oh. Piled under the eaves behind Yamagishi's place. I'd beenthinking of using it ever since I got the idea of killing him."
"Question: You mean you knew there was firewood piled in that place?"
"Answer: Yes."
"Question: What did you do with the wood after the crime? "
"Answer: I putit back where I got it."
"Question: If we went back to where the wood is stored, could you pickout the piece you used?"
"Answer: Sure, if nobody moved it."
"Question: Since the discovery of the body, the house has been in policecustody. Everything's just as it was."
"Answer: Sure, then if I went there, I could pick out the piece."
In this report there are no traces of the association-game hints Uekiclaimed were forced on him in the second confession. The defendant wastaken back to Yamagishi's house, as the following report reveals.
"The defendant was taken behind Yamagishi's house, where he examined apile of about thirty-five bundles of wood stacked under the eaves. Hepromptly picked out a piece from the second row from the top. He said, 'Thisis it. This is the one I used.'
"An investigator put on gloves and took the piece indicated. Thedefendant, too, was given gloves and held the wood in his right hand. Thenhe swung it two or three times to the right and left and made five or sixdownstrikes with it. He said, 'This is it, all right. I guess once you've usedsomething like this, you know the feel of it, don't you?'
"In offering this evidence, the defendant was most cooperative."
Torao Ueki's efforts to help made it look almost as if he were curryingfavor with the police.
Harajima had not seen the full initial investigation report. He took timefrom his busy schedule to visit the police station. From the report, he learnedthat the police had narrowed their search to Ueki from the moment theyreceived Nakamura's testimony about having seen Ueki from his bathroomwindow. Ueki confessed immediately after arrest. The police had beencomfortably able to send in an early report.
Realizing Harajima was court-appointed counsel, the officer in chargewas clearly angry when he said, "I understand the defendant's now denyinghis confession. What's he trying to do? It's ridiculous. The police can't beaccused of using strong-arm tactics. We'd never promise to set a man free orhave the case dropped if he agreed to sign a confession. We don't threaten tofight for the death penalty when a defendant denies his confession in court.When Ueki first came in here, he sat right down—told us everything about themurder, how he went in and talked to Yamagishi, how he killed him. He drewa map of Yamagishi's house, explaining it all on his own. The whole thingabout the murder weapon was just as it's written up. He pointed it out to us,made a few swings with it, said he recalled the knot. He even asked us tofind out if his fingerprints were on the log. He was friendly. I really don'tthink he could have described things so well unless he knew what he wastalking about."
This business of Ueki being "friendly" made Harajima frown. Sometimesdefendants cooperate with the police so they can be sent to the detentionhouse quickly. Once there, they change their tune, claiming what they said forthe police was made under duress. Maybe this was how Ueki figured things.
Still he might pretend friendliness, believing the police would free him anddrop the case. He certainly had cooperated.
The trial was drawing near. Stealing time from other cases, Harajimamade a trip to the detention house to talk with Ueki.
Ueki was tall, reedy, with a pale, femininely gentle face. Both hisshoulders and eyebrows slanted downward, giving him a kind of parallelsemblance of rejection. Thin-lipped, he had a tight, narrow forehead, but hewas quite polite when he met Harajima, expressing respect and gratitude thatthe lawyer was representing him. Especially since there was no fee. Therewas a certain meekness about Ueki, though none of this was in his words.
Harajima was of two minds about the man. Could such a weak-lookingfellow commit murder? Still, that girlish face might conceal brutality andcunning. Although he had looked into the eyes of hundreds of defendants,Harajima wasn't always able to tell whether they were sincere.
"Torao, I've taken your case. You want the right kind of defense, you'llhave to be completely frank."
"Sure, yes—understood."
Harajima hesitated, then said, "Do you still claim your first confessionwas a lie?"
Ueki was quick, direct. "Absolutely. Damn it, I was tricked by the police."
"Then, it's true, about the leading questions, all that?"
"Yes, yes—"
"They claim you cooperated with them, went so far as to point out thefirewood to the investigators."
Ueki shook his head. "That's not so. It's like I said in the seconddeposition. The detectives told me just what to say."
"You'll testify to that?"
"Certainly."
"Okay, then. We'll work out a defense on those lines."
Ueki's tone changed. "Mr. Harajima? I can prove the confession I madewas forced from me."
"Prove?"
"Yes."
5
A smile touched Ueki's lips. "I thought of it last night in bed. I'm sure it'sbecause you've been chosen to defend me—God graciously jogged mymemory."
Harajima sighed. "What d'you mean?"
"Sure. It's about what happened before I'm supposed to have killed the oldman. I heard he was on his face, turned in the direction of the next room.Lying there, like that, I mean. When I first talked with the police, I made it upthat after Yamagishi'd seen me, he said a couple of words, then invited me in.That he turned to go into the other room. This is when I said I hit him with thelog. Well, the police said that story wasn't any good. They kept insisting Imust've sat on a cushion Yamagishi pulled out for me. Then I'd put thecushion back after the murder. So it'd look like the crime was by someonewho broke in, not by a guest. They kept at it, and finally I went along. But listen—the truth is Jin Yamagishi never offered cushions to people who cameto borrow money. I was there a lot and he never gave me one. You'd have toknow him. Must've been like that with everybody, I bet. You can ask around."
"Why'd he have the pile of cushions in the corner?"
"For show, see? None of his customers ever sat on one. If they sat down,they'd stay too long. He liked us to leave right away, after he'd forced hisconditions on us. Okay, if the talk lasted a while, then he might maybe showsome kind of human feeling. Of course, that's not saying he didn't give acushion to ordinary visitors. The detectives didn't know this."
"You have any other proof?"
"The cashbox, Mr. Harajima. I didn't know where it had been found. Theysaid something about 'water,' so I remembered the irrigation ponds. But whenI said the one on the left, they called me a fool. So I told them the one to theright. That's in the deposition I made after meeting the prosecutor. Damn it,Mr. Harajima, the fact my promissory notes were still there, in the box,should prove I didn't kill him. They said I misread Inoki for Ueki. But, hell—now, would somebody who'd murdered to get those notes back fail to checkthe names on them? The police said it was dark. But I'm supposed to haveburned five notes in the playground a little later. This means I had matches,right? I could've checked the names when I struck a match. Anyway, myprints weren't found on the cashbox."
"Well. Anything else?"
"Yes. It's important, too. How about this—does the hunk of wood used asthe murder weapon match the wound on Yamagishi's head?"
"How d'you mean?"
"Listen, I read the medical report. A copy, that is. There was a flattenedspot on the back of Yamagishi's skull, maybe the size of a human palm. Thebone was dented in. The log the detectives made me select was triangular,Mr. Harajima—in cross-section, I mean—about four centimeters wide on aside." Ueki shook his head. "I just don't think three smacks would leavesomething like that. I mean, the fractures would've been uneven. He must'vebeen hit with something larger, once." He blinked. "Naturally, it's only myguess. But, still, you might check it."
Ueki had been speaking quietly, but with an undercurrent of hope.Harajima took a taxi home from the detention house. On the way, hethought over what Ueki had said, and could not help becoming excited.Finally, he concluded Ueki's words had considerable significance.
Back at the office, he read the case record over with a different eye. Hesaw that when the viewpoint alters, so does the impression one gets from thematerials. Other possibilities hadn't been investigated. Ueki had confessed,immediately upon arrest. The police had relaxed and consequently werecareless about making certain of their evidence. Happy over success, they'dbeen lax in their very first investigations.
Harajima questioned some ten customers of Yamagishi's about thecushions. He learned that the moneylender never provided them with onewhen they were at his house. From the young teacher upstairs, however, hefound that Yamagishi did, indeed, give courteous hospitality to those whovisited on other than business. He seemed to enjoy sitting and chatting. Otherassociates of Yamagishi attested to this.
The police had considered it only common sense to assume Yamagishibrought out cushions for customers. They required the suspect admit doingthis—returning the cushion to the pile after the murder—to suggest the acthad been committed by a thief.
Next, Harajima took the coroners' report to a friend who was a doctor offorensic medicine, and asked his opinion.
"It's supposition, remember," the doctor said. "But to make a wound of thekind that killed Yamagishi would require a single blow with a weapon morethan eight centimeters wide." Shaking his head, he said, "It's odd the police don't see this. But, of course, they place more importance on their ownintuition and experience than on what we say. They think our reports littlemore than reference material." He made a clucking sound with his tongue."They actually look down on us doctors," he said, smiling quickly.
It would seem that one of the detectives had simply decided the murderweapon should be a split log, lacking anything else suitable. The excitementof conducting an investigation immediately after Ueki confessed probablyaccounted for much of the laxity. It was different from times when a criminalleft so much evidence behind that it confused the police with its veryabundance. Nothing was as open to error or powerful prejudice as theeducated hunch of an over-confident detective.
Harajima had some notes about this, right on his desk, taken fromAscertaining the Facts, by the Judicial Research and Training Institute. Itwas interesting, and a parallel: "There have been many cases in which policeofficers, operating on the basis of a preformed notion, have failed to take intoconsideration facts that remove suspicions and have used undue methods toforce confessions. Almost all judges with long experience have encounteredone or two such incidents. Written works on criminal matters often refer tocases of the kind. For instance, mention is made of police officers whocarelessly and hastily overlook facts that prove innocence. In addition, thereare remarks to the effect that there is much falsehood in confessions madebefore police."
Harajima became enthusiastic. This very case might just be a stroke ofgood luck. In court, he called the forensic medical expert to give an opinionabout the wound. As new witnesses, he summoned several persons who hadassociations with Jin Yamagishi. He questioned the four police officers whohad interrogated Ueki. They all testified that the confession had been givenwillingly.
— Did you tell the defendant, Mr. Ueki, "We know you killed Yamagishi.You won't get off now. But, if you confess, we'll let you free and get thepublic prosecutor to drop the case"?
— Witness A: Listen, I never said anything like that.
— In order to prompt a confession, did you allow the defendant to smokeas much as he ITked in the interrogation room? And after the confession, didyou order food for him on three occasions?
— Witness B: It's customary to allow a defendant two or three cigarettesduring questioning. This isn't to "prompt a confession." We ordered foodonce.
— During questioning, did you instruct the defendant with hints abouthaving to put the cushions back in the original place?
— Witness C: No. He told us that, offered it on his own.
—Did you suggestthe firewood, exhibit one, as the murder weapon? And, did you lead thedefendant to select the log shown here—and to say he struck the victim on theback of the head with it, three times?
— Witness D: Of course not. He confessed all that himself. He chose thatpiece of wood himself. He said, "This is it," or something, and swung itaround. Then he said, "No mistake about it." He was very cooperative.
Ueki was quite disturbed, indignant, about the testimony of these menduring cross-questioning.
"See? They said what I told you. How the devil can they lie like that? Justto make themselves look good. They don't give a damn about who's guilty."
There was a deadlock. The police officers strongly deniedUeki's accusations.
Three months later, the verdict was handed down. Not guilty, for lack ofsufficient evidence.
The verdict was reached for the following reasons:
The piece of wood presented to the court as the murder weapon is fourcentimeters wide at the broadest point. According to testimonies of theautopsy doctor and one other, flattening of the victim's skull would require aweapon at least as wide as an adult palm, eight or nine centimeters. (A reportby an expert from a large medical university confirmed this.) Therefore, thepine log offered as evidence cannot have been the murder weapon.
Fingerprints of the defendant were not found on the piece of pine log,nor on the cashbox belonging to Jin Yamagishi.
According to the confession, the defendant took five of the twenty-twopromissory notes from the cashbox. He took these to the playground of a life-insurance company some two hundred meters from the irrigation pond andburned them. Among notes left in the box were those in the name of thedefendant, Torao Ueki. It was assumed, after investigation, that the five notesburned had been in the name of Tomio lnoki. The judicial police insist that, in the dark, the defendant must have misread the name Tomio Inoki as hisown, Torao Ueki.
This seems likely, but the defense attorney's insistence is also convincing:if the defendant is in fact the murderer, then recovery of the notes would havebeen his primary concern. He would have made certain he had the right ones.
Examination of the written confessions reveals no trace of coercion orundue detention by the judicial police to force the defendant to confess.However, there is an impression that deception and leading questions wereemployed. The series of depositions submitted by the defendant to this courtstrongly claim such methods were used. This is not enough to convince thecourt that the crime was not committed by the defendant. The defendant isunable to account convincingly for his actions and whereabouts for the hourfrom the time he left the Manpaiso mahjong parlor to the time when hereturned. There is doubt because Yoshiya Nakamura testifies to having seenthe defendant near the victim's house around that time. This substantiates thefirst confession.
This court has considered the evidence, and come to the followingdecision. The court concludes that there is insufficient evidence of guilt and,in accordance with Article 336 of the Criminal Actions Law, pronounces averdict of not guilty.
6
A year passed. Naomi Harajima was in the habit of reading legal volumesduring his free time. One night, as he glanced through Studies of Not-GuiltyVerdicts by the English judge James Hind, his eyes locked on an arrestingsection. He sat bolt upright in his chair. He read on and experienced anunpleasant thumping in his chest.
In 1923, Peter Cammerton, a worker in a sail factory in Manchester,England, was arrested and charged with murdering a wealthy widow, Mrs.Hammersham, and then setting fire to her home. Because he was in need ofmoney, Cammerton planned to kill her and steal whatever he could. Going toher house around seven in the evening, he struck her several times in the facewith an iron rod, about fifty centimeters long. He then strangled her with hisleather belt, took one hundred and fifty pounds in cash, along with somejewelry from her room, and fled.
To conceal traces of his act, he returned about nine in the evening,intending to burn her house. Lighting a kerosene lamp, he placed it on a bookatop the bureau. Half of the lamp-base projected over the edge of the book.The lamp leaned because of unstable support. On the floor, he piled wastepaper and clothing, which would ignite when the lamp fell. The fire wouldspread to the entire house. He knew the lamp would tumble when a freighttrain passed on tracks behind Mrs. Hammersham's house in the next hour. Theground and house foundation trembled whenever a train came along. Threehours later, the house was in flames. Firetrucks raced to the scene. They wereunable to extinguish the blaze.
Peter Cammerton was arrested soon after. He confessed, but later deniedhis confession. He was pronounced not guilty through lack of evidence.
Was Peter Cammerton, in fact, the person who robbed and killed thewoman and set fire to the house?
There were no fingerprints or other objective evidence to link him withthe crime. More, there was little circumstantial evidence to establish hisguilt. Many of his friends testified that he had said and done nothing unusualbetween the time of the crime and his arrest. On the day of the murder, he hadtaken a pleasure trip to London. He returned eagerly to Manchester, knowingfull well he would undergo a police investigation. This spoke in his favor.
Cammerton confessed to the police, but later denied the confession,claiming he had been coerced into making it. The court uncovered nofoundation for coercion and ruled the confession acceptable as evidence.
But close examination of the confession, in comparison with otherevidence, revealed serious discrepancies. In the confession, he said Mrs.Hammersham first opened the door only a crack. He had waited to strike herwith the iron bar when she put her whole face out of the door. Two daysafter, he claimed she invited him into the house and that they sat oppositeeach other and talked. He waited for her to be off her guard and then struckher.
When he struck her was a point of major importance. Cammerton wouldnot forget such a major action. Why would he lie? This conflict of statementswas difficult to understand.
At first, Cammerton said he struck Mrs. Hammersham once in the facewith the iron bar. Two days later, he said it had been twice. One week later,he claimed he struck her with all his might once and that, as she lowered.her head, he hit her again four or five times. A medical expert said the conditionof the bones in the victim's face verified the assumption that the attack reallyconsisted of only one blow.
So, what Cammerton said later also did not agree with his originalconfession. Lapse of memory was unthinkable. Increasing the number oftimes he struck the victim could scarcely be to the defendant's advantage.Still, there was little reason to suspect him of deliberately falsifying. All ofthis cast serious doubt on the veracity of the initial confession.
Immediately upon arrest, the police confronted Cammerton with the steelrod and asked if he'd ever seen it. He said he thought his fingerprints wouldbe on it. He seemed to recall the rod, but there had been several where hepicked up the weapon. He could not be certain. Holding the rod, he placed itunder his right arm, measured its length, and finally said there could be nomistake—it was the one he had used.
The wound in the victim's face was measured and found to be three timesas wide as the rod (2.5 centimeters). This meant that the rod could not be themurder weapon. Why had Cammerton claimed it was? Would the real killerbe unable to recognize his weapon? The fact that Cammerton claimed the rodas the weapon and also mentioned fingerprints awakened the possibility thathe identified the weapon to please the police, even though he knew it wasunrelated to the crime. Why would he do this?
Investigations failed to reveal traces of the kerosene lamp on the floor bythe bureau. If it had been there, even though it may not have started the fire, itcould scarcely have been overlooked. Had there been no lamp? Manyquestions remained unanswered. The judge pronounced the defendant notguilty, due to insufficient evidence.
Finished reading this passage, Harajima felt as if the words on the pagehad leaped out and struck him in the face. The two cases closely resembledeach other. Coincidence? It was too close for that. A strong gut feeling toldhim Torao Ueki had read the same book.
From eighteen to twenty-five, Torao Ueki had worked in a second-handbook store, opening the noodle shop only after getting married.
Harajima checked a copy of the case record, found the name of the bookstore. He then called a book collector friend, and learned the storespecialized in legal volumes. They would certainly have Hind's Studies ofNot-Guilty Verdicts, which had been translated into Japanese before World War II. As an employee of the shop, Ueki would have had ample time to readit.
It is not easy for a criminal to escape the police. Many criminals havebeen executed or imprisoned because they have become entangled in theirown clever subterfuges. Those who do escape detection often lead lives ofanxiety and suffering in some ways worse than a long prison sentence. Theideal thing is to allow the police to make an arrest, then be declared notguilty. When he decided to kill Jin Yamagishi, the moneylender who hadcaused him much grief, Torao Ueki must have considered this and recalledthe volume he once read in a second-hand bookshop.
In the Manchester case, Peter Cammerton claimed that a piece of iron rodthe wrong size was the murder weapon. Believing him, the police admittedthe wrong item as evidence. Ueki had done the same thing with the firewood.After his arrest, Cammerton identified the iron rod, measured its length underhis arm, and suggested his fingerprints would be on it. Ueki had donesomething very similar with the piece of wood. Learning much from theEnglish murder case, Ueki made self-incriminating statements in hisconfession, which he later denied. He then created the impression that theconfession was made under police pressure.
As the inspector said, Ueki had been cooperative and friendly. The policefell for this and were too pleased with the way things were going tosubstantiate their evidence. Both Cammerton and Ueki changed the number oftimes they claimed to have struck their victims. In each case, only one blowhad been used. Ueki's knowledge of Yamagishi's habit of never offeringcushions to business customers was put to his own advantage when he saidhe'd been offered such a cushion and had returned it to its corner pile. He hademployed the trick of leaving his own promissory notes in the cashbox toconvince police he would not have done so if he'd been the murderer. It madeno difference that the notes weren't destroyed. Yamagishi had no children, norelatives for heirs. At his death, all debts would be canceled.
What would the police think if they knew Harajima's notions of the truth?In court, when Ueki indignantly accused them of coercing a confession,tricking him with leading questions, bribing him, why had the police allowedit to end in a draw? Had they given up before Ueki's tremendous brass? Itwas true, when he observed the staunch courage with which Ueki testified,Harajima had become convinced the confession had not been freely given.
Harajima was very nervous. He paced back and forth in his study. Atlength, trying to calm himself, he removed a slender volume from thebookshelf and thumbed through the pages.
"Never judge the truth or falseness of a defendant's confession on the basisof the excitement he shows in making depositions about the crime, or by thecourage with which he faces police witnesses in court. Make judgement onthe basis of (1) whether the content of the confession agrees with knownfacts, (2) the personality and nature of the defendant, and (3) the motive thatmay have induced him to confess. But, after thorough investigation of allevidence, if there is no trace of the defendant's attempting to obscure theuncovering of the truth about his confession, do not be deceived bydistinctive character traits or by the falseness of a servile personality intobelieving the confession has been forced. (Special Criminal Report of theSuperior Court, March 16, 1944. Kanazawa Branch, Nagoya SuperiorCourt)"
Ueki's whereabouts are unknown. After the trial, he sold his shop and landto a realtor for a good price, and went away. He did not come to thankHarajima. He phoned, instead: "Can't thank you enough, for getting me out ofa tight spot. Mr. Harajima, you're tops. The only thing is, I'm embarrassedhaving to call on your services without paying you." After a few moreinconsequential words he was gone.
If Torao Ueki were killed in a traffic accident, it would be no more thanjust punishment, or perhaps divine retribution. This, however, is somehowunlikely.