Silence Once Begun

Interrogation 1

Fifteenth of October, 1977. Oda Sotatsu brought in on suspicion of participation in the Narito Disappearances. This suspicion having to do with the confession signed by Oda, submitted to the police force anonymously. Conversation conducted in a room of the local police station. Inspector Nagano and another inspector, name unrecorded.

[Int. note. Transcript of session recording, possibly altered or shoddily made. Original recording not heard.]

OFFICER 1

Mr. Oda. I assume you know why you are here. I assume you know why we took the trouble to bring you here, and I assume you know what the penalties are for lying to us.

OFFICER 2

Mr. Oda, if you have any information about the whereabouts of the individuals mentioned in your confession, or if you know any of them to still be living, tell us now. It could help your case greatly, such information.

OFFICER 1

We have read your confession. We are very interested in obtaining more information pertaining to it as soon as possible.

ODA

(silent)

OFFICER 1

Mr. Oda, your predicament is not enviable. I can assure you, it is almost certain that if you are convicted you will be taken to an execution room in X. prison and hanged. If any of the individuals mentioned in your confession are still living, and you cooperate with us to find them, it could help you. It could make the difference. You could live.

ODA

(silent)

OFFICER 2

If you think being silent is going to help you. If you think that.

OFFICER 1

If you think that, you don’t know anything about this.

OFFICER 2

Maybe you got into this the wrong way. Maybe you think you know the way out. But you don’t. The only way out is to help us.

OFFICER 1

Tell us where these individuals are. That’s your play. That’s your way out.

OFFICER 2

Not to freedom.

(Officers laugh.)

OFFICER 1

No, just out — a way to avoid the execution room.

OFFICER 2

And not just that, but even now. Even now, things can be better than they are. They don’t have to be like this. There are, you can believe, better cells in the jail than the one you have. There is better food than the food you’ll get. There’s even, I shouldn’t say this, but it could be arranged for you to go from here to a regular jail. Things are different there. Maybe better for you? There are even different guards. Things aren’t all the same. You can improve your situation, that’s what we’re saying.

OFFICER 1

We’re not your enemies. You don’t have any. We’re all just working together. We’re all cooperating. Inspector Nagano and I are going to leave the room now. When we come back tomorrow I want you to have things to say to us. Do you understand?

Interview 1 (Mother)

[Int. note. When I visited the village, years after, I managed to conduct a series of interviews with the Oda family. It was difficult to get into contact with them, but as I have told you, I had my own reasons for trying. I had been in Japan only briefly before, and many things were new to me. I felt a beautiful feeling of opening, as though everything was expanding and sharpening, becoming larger and clearer than it had been, just as on a cloudy day, sometimes the light shifts and becomes strong when one is not even directly in sunlight. Various portions of these interviews I here include in order to show the progression of Oda Sotatsu’s incarceration. I will explain it precisely, piece by piece, presenting you the evidence as I received it. The house in which I conducted the interviews was a rented house on a property known to be full of butterflies in certain seasons. At the time in which I arrived, and when I began the interviews, there were no butterflies evident. However, when we sat in the north room of the house, where Sotatsu’s mother most often chose to be interviewed, she spoke of having visited the house under other circumstances, and of having seen the butterflies. For me, it was as though I had then seen them, and later, when they did indeed come, it was exactly as she had said. I say this only to give a sense of her reliability, although, clearly, a matter of insects and the matter of her son’s confession are not really alike, not really. Still, the impression of exactitude remains, and so I explain it.]

[These are excerpts from long conversations, and so they may refer to things previously stated, or may begin in the midst of an idea, when something important had begun to be said.]

INT.

Mrs. Oda, you were speaking of that first day, when you received the call from the authorities, and went to visit Sotatsu.

MRS. ODA

We did not actually go that day. Neither I, nor my husband. Neither of my children.

INT.

Why was that?

MRS. ODA

My husband forbade it. He was horrified by the news. He sat in our house, in a room with no light on, just staring at nothing for many hours. When he came out, he said we would not go to see Sotatsu. He said he did not know anyone with that name and inquired whether I did.

INT.

And what did you say?

MRS. ODA

I said I did not. I did not know anyone by that name. He said he was sorry to hear about the confusion, and that the police thought we knew anyone like that, but we did not. I wanted to go, of course. Of course, I wanted to go. But, he was very clear about how it had to be.

INT.

What about your other children?

MRS. ODA

They were not living in our home at that time, and I hadn’t contacted them.

INT.

So, what changed? Why did you go to visit Sotatsu?

MRS. ODA

When I woke up in the morning, my husband was wearing some clothing I hadn’t seen him wear, an old suit, somewhat formal. He said it was possibly his fault, that we should see our son Sotatsu. I told him I thought that we should also. He said that didn’t matter, what we should do, but that we would do it. So, we went to the car and drove to the jail.

INT.

And what did you find there?

MRS. ODA

The officers did not want to look at us. I don’t think anyone looked us in the eye on that visit, or any other visit. They wanted to pretend we didn’t exist. I understand that, by the way. I understand how it would be. Such a job, to be at a jail. It is good that someone chooses to do it, I guess.

INT.

Was he far inside in the police station?

MRS. ODA

They moved his cell around. He wasn’t always in the same spot. Maybe because of discipline? He was often being punished, which his father agreed with. When I said I thought it was quite much that was being done, Mr. Oda told me that indeed, no, it was quite little. I don’t know much about these things. If you speak to my husband, he can perhaps remember more, or remember knowing more.

INT.

But the visit itself? You spoke to him?

MRS. ODA

We spoke. He did not. He was in a small cell at first. There wasn’t anything else in there at all, just a drain. I think they wanted him to start talking, but he wouldn’t. He looked very small in the prison clothing. I didn’t like to see it. I don’t like to think about it now.

INT.

I’m sorry, but can you just recall what you said to him?

MRS. ODA

I don’t believe I said anything. I was afraid to say the wrong thing and then that Mr. Oda would have it that we never visited again, so I stayed quiet. I wanted to see how he would say what it was that there was to say. He said, Son, you did this? They say you did this and that you said so, that you said you did. Did you do this? And Sotatsu said nothing. But he looked at us.

THE NARITO DISAPPEARANCES

[Int. note. I felt a word about the Narito Disappearances was in order at this point. Permit me to interrupt the narrative a moment for clarity’s sake. It was to this crime that Oda Sotatsu confessed. When he signed the confession, it is my opinion he was somehow unaware that the crime had been carried out.]

The Narito Disappearances occurred in the villages near Sakai in the year of 1977. They began around June and continued up until the capture of Oda Sotatsu. The newspapers eagerly followed the case and it drew national press attention, culminating in a furor at Oda Sotatsu’s arrest. What was it?

Eight people disappeared, roughly two per month. There was no evidence of a struggle; however, it was clear that the disappearances were effected suddenly (food set out on the table, no personal objects missing, etc.). The people who disappeared were all older men and women, between the ages of fifty and seventy, who without exception lived alone. On the door of the residences a playing card was discovered, one per residence. No fingerprints of any kind were on the cards. No one witnessed the departure of any of the disappeared individuals. It was a powerful and gripping mystery, and as more and more people disappeared, the region went into shock. Patrols were even created to visit the homes of isolated or widowed individuals. But the patrols were never in the right place at the right time.

Interrogation 2

Sixteenth of October, 1977. Oda Sotatsu. Inspectors’ names unrecorded.

[Int. note. Again, transcript of session recording, possibly altered or shoddily made. Original recording not heard.]

OFFICER 1

Mr. Oda, now that you have slept, perhaps you feel differently than yesterday?

ODA

(silent)

OFFICER 2

It is impossible for you, for things to get better for you, if you do not speak at all. You have signed a confession. You do not want a lawyer or any representation. You know what you did. We are concerned with finding the individuals mentioned, those individuals mentioned in your confession.

ODA

Is it possible that I could see it? I would like to see the confession.

OFFICER 2

That is impossible. You cannot see the confession. You wrote the confession. You know what it says. This isn’t a game. Tell us where to look. Where did you go with those people? Mr. Oda, our patience is growing thin.

OFFICER 1

You cannot see the confession. The inspector is correct. It is completely unnecessary. It is possible, of course, that if you cooperate, many things that are unnecessary can occur. As we said, better food, a larger cell, a different facility. Perhaps even this. I do not say yes, not at all. I don’t say that. But speak to us about these things and we will see what can happen.

OFFICER 2

This is about you. This is in your hands.

(Forty more minutes of quiet on the tape as the interviewers and Oda stare at one another. Finally, the sound of a door closing, and the tape clicks off.)

Interview 2 (Brother)

[Int. note. This interview also was conducted at the house previously mentioned. Sotatsu’s brother, Jiro, was his most loyal supporter. He actually learned about what had happened and tried to visit the station prior to his parents. However, he was turned away, for reasons unknown. Perhaps the first interrogation had not yet happened at the time of his visit. It is unclear. I spoke to him at great length. Of all the family, he was the one most angry about what had happened. He had worked at a steel plant as a younger man, and was doing so in 1977. He later became active in organized labor. When I met him he was well dressed and drove an expensive car. Of his personal habits, I can say he smoked nearly an entire pack of cigarettes during each one of our conversations. I don’t know if this was usual for him, or if my presence and the subject of our discussions made him nervous. On several of the interviews, he was accompanied by his children, both young, who played in the yard while we spoke. Although he was very matter of fact, and even at times hostile with me, he was exceptionally soft-spoken with them. I had done judo for a while, and Jiro had also done so; at one point he broke in, out of the blue, to ask if I had ever done it. I had never said a word on the subject. When I answered yes, he laughed. I can always tell, he said. A judo man walks a bit differently. While this may have predisposed me to liking him, I assure you, I have tried at all times to be as objective as possible.]

INT.

That was the nineteenth of October?

JIRO

It may have been. I don’t know.

INT.

But it was your first time inside the police station?

JIRO

Actually, no, I had been there once before, in connection with a friend from the mill. I had been visiting him, accompanying his wife to visit him. I think he had been fighting and was taken by the police.

INT.

Your friend?

JIRO

Yes, that was some years before that.

INT.

But on this visit …

JIRO

I saw Sotatsu. The police frisked me. I signed some papers, showed some identification, and was taken in. His cell was at the back. He was there, by himself, in a long cell with no window.

INT.

Did the police leave you alone to speak with him?

JIRO

No. One of the officers stayed within earshot. When Sotatsu saw me, he came to the edge of the cell and we looked at each other.

INT.

How did he look?

JIRO

Terrible. He was in jail. How do you think he looked?

INT.

What did you say?

JIRO

I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t come there to say anything. I just wanted to see him and I wanted him to know that I was thinking of him. I don’t know that I wanted to hear him say anything. I don’t know what he could have said that would have been worth hearing.

INT.

You had read about the matter in the newspaper?

JIRO

Yes, it was all over the newspaper. It had been for months already, all about the disappearances. Then, it became all about Sotatsu. He confessed to it all, even to parts that the newspapers hadn’t known anything about. That’s what made the police sure. They had thought there were eight disappearances, but he had confessed to eleven, and the other three had been entirely unreported. When the police went to check on those people, they were gone too.

INT.

And you didn’t ask him about it?

JIRO

I just said that. I saw him and left.

INT.

And you had other visits like that?

JIRO

I came every day. Some days they would let me in. Some days they wouldn’t. When they would it was always the same. I would approach the bars from one side, he from another. Neither one of us spoke. It was said there was a room where prisoners received visitors. I never saw that room.

Interrogation 3

Nineteenth of October, 1977. Oda Sotatsu. Inspector’s name unrecorded.

[Int. note. Again, transcript of session recording, possibly altered or shoddily made. Original recording not heard.]

OFFICER 3

Mr. Oda, I have been informed about your case by the inspector you spoke to previously. He declared you unresponsive. It is his opinion that you should simply be run through the system. Flushed out of the system. Those were his exact words. Not to be vulgar, but you see what I mean. You are getting a particular reputation around here. I am going to explain something to you. In jail and in prison, even here at a police station, a local police station like this, there are things that people have done that make them what they are. Do you see? I was in the military, I went to school, I was in a training program, after that I joined the force, and I have worked my way up to being an inspector. That is what I am. Those things I did have made me what I am. You, on the other hand. You have done a crime. That is why you are here. What you are is a prisoner. That is what you are. However, what you are does not determine how you are treated, not the way you would think. What determines how you are treated in here is how you behave and how that behavior creates a reputation. I have a reputation for being good to the people I talk to. Then more people talk to me, then more people learn that I am good to talk to. That is my reputation. There are prisoners here who are treated exceptionally well. Some who have done worse things than others are treated better than the others. Do you know why that is?

ODA

(silent)

OFFICER 3

It is because they have learned how to behave and how to represent a particular reputation, to make it real. You are creating a reputation for yourself. Do you know that?

ODA

(silent)

OFFICER 3

There is a reason you sleep in a concrete cell with no bed, night after night. There is a reason that you get the food that no one else wants. Not all the prisoners get sprayed with a hose. Do you see what I mean? These officers are from good families. They grew up in your town. You may even know them. They have children. They treat people well. But when they see you, they think: here is an animal. Here is a person who wants nothing to do with being human, with being part of our community.

(Officer takes a deep breath, pauses.)

OFFICER 3

What we want is for you to tell us more. The information in the confession is not enough. It is very little. It is almost a useless document, other than where you are concerned. Where you are concerned, it is probably the end of you. But for others, it is useless. We need you to tell us more. Tell us more and we can help you. When I came here, today, and I was told that I would be the one to speak to you, I had an idea about who you were. There had been talk about you. Also, the newspapers. They have been running stories. Many things about you. So, I had an idea about what you would be like. But you aren’t like that. To me, you look like a regular guy, who ended up in a bad spot. You look like maybe you need to talk to someone. Like maybe all this can be explained somehow. I’m the guy you want to talk to. Think about it.

(Tape recorder clicks off.)

Interview 3 (Mother)

[Int. note. To this visit, Mrs. Oda brought a toy that had been Sotatsu’s. It was a long stick painted blue with a red bell on the end. The bell was shaped like a flower. It did not make any noise, Mrs. Oda explained. It had originally been given to Sotatsu’s brother as a present, and he immediately broke it. Sotatsu had found the broken toy and began carrying it around all the time. It became his. He even claimed that he could hear the sound of the bell, although clearly the bell made no sound. Once, the family played a trick on him and hid little bells in their clothing. When he would move the stick, one of the family members would surreptitiously jingle a bell. This caused him great concern and difficulty, and both parents regretted having done it; so said Mrs. Oda. It also confirmed him in his belief that there truly was a sound, and even after their ruse had been explained to him, he disbelieved it.]

INT.

Your next visit to Sotatsu was some weeks later?

MRS. ODA

One week later. I brought him a blanket, but they wouldn’t let him have it. They said he had all the blankets he needed.

INT.

He was provided with blankets by the jail?

MRS. ODA

I do not believe so. What they were saying was …

INT.

That he shouldn’t have a blanket. Or that his sort shouldn’t …

MRS. ODA

I think so. They did let me stand there with the blanket and try to speak with him. I told him that we were all thinking of him, and I tried something that a friend of mine said.

INT.

What do you mean by that?

MRS. ODA

A friend of mine, an older woman whose opinion I respected greatly. She said to me to do something when I went and I did. I worked it out carefully and did it. What it was was this: I should tell him a memory I had, very clearly and just speak of it, let it all move there by itself without me or the sad time we were in, just by itself, the past moment. So, I had remembered a time that would be good to speak of, that I thought I could do …

INT.

Did you prepare it ahead of time?

MRS. ODA

Yes, I thought about it a few ways and tried it out. Then when I went I said it to him.

INT.

Would you want to say it now the way you said it, do you think you could still remember it?

MRS. ODA

Yes. I remember. I actually said it to him several times. He seemed to like it, so when I went there I said it a few times.

INT.

And could you say it now?

MRS. ODA

I can. Let me think a minute and I will be ready.

INT.

That’s fine. Do you want me to stop the tape?

MRS. ODA:

Just for a minute.

[Int. note. Here I stopped the tape for approximately fifteen minutes while Mrs. Oda went about remembering her words. I got a glass of water for her from the kitchen and found something to do in another room. When I returned, she was ready.]

INT.

The tape-device is recording.

MRS. ODA

I said to him, I said: When you were four, your father and I had a thought that we should perhaps travel to different waterfalls, that it might be a good thing to see all the waterfalls we could. So, we began to go to waterfalls whenever we had a chance. That year I believe we saw thirty waterfalls, in many places. We developed a routine for it. We would drive there and get out. Your father would pick you up. He would say to you, Is this the right waterfall? and you would say, No, not this one. Not this one. We went all over. There are really more waterfalls than one thinks. When he talked to me about the project, I said, I don’t know how many waterfalls there are to go to, but I was wrong, there are many. It was just the three of us in the car then, as your sister and brother weren’t born yet. Just the three of us, riding along. We would go down these tiny roads, past fields and rice paddies. We would have to stop to ask directions of the strangest people. But everyone seemed to understand what we were doing. It was never hard to explain it. We are going to see many waterfalls. And the person would say that that was a good thing to do, and that right that way was another waterfall, a very fine one, quite worth seeing. Then we would go on down the road, and pull up at the place. I would get out, I would get you out. You would go to your father. Then the two of you, the two of you would go to the edge of the water. Your father would cock his ear to listen, and you would imitate him. We didn’t have a camera, so I don’t have any pictures of it. But the two of you would listen to the waterfall for quite a while. Then he would pick you up and he would say, Son, is this the right waterfall? and you would say, No, not this one. Not this one. Then we would sit and have some food that we had brought. We would look at the waterfall some more and sometimes talk about what was particular about it. Then we would get in the car and go. Your father would never look back at the waterfall as we were leaving, but you would always turn around as best you could and try to look out the window or over the backseat to see it as we drove away. When finally we had been going for months and seen many many waterfalls, we went to one that we had missed, one that was actually rather close to where we lived. It was a rainy day. It had started out pleasant, with blue skies and fine white clouds, but while we were driving there came many gray clouds that were nearly black from the north and west and with them all kinds of rain. Your father did not want to stop. It was very close, this waterfall, he said, and it was a part of the expedition that we would not turn back. So, we got there in the rain and when we did, the rain cleared. We sat in the car for a few minutes and then got out. It was a very small waterfall, one of the smaller ones we had seen. That was probably why no one said anything about it to us when we were trying to find the waterfalls. But when you and your father had listened for a while, and when he lifted you up and he asked you, Son, is this the right waterfall? you laughed and laughed. You didn’t say anything, you just laughed and laughed. And so he said to you again, Is this the right one? Is this it, the right waterfall? and you said, Yes, this is the one we have been looking for. Then when your sister and brother were born, and we would go on family picnics, we often went there, but we did not talk about our waterfall expedition, and because you had been so young, you never remembered it. You didn’t know why that was the waterfall we always went to, or that you had chosen it from all the waterfalls we had seen. We didn’t know anyway, why it was the right one, your father and I. Or maybe he knows, but I don’t know.

(Mrs. Oda begins to cry. I pass her a handkerchief. She refuses it.)

INT.

And did he say anything to that?

MRS. ODA

He watched me the whole time, sitting with his back to the wall, he was watching me very closely. His eyes changed while I was watching so I knew that it affected him, and that is why I came back and said it again and again. I felt that it was affecting him, whether he would talk or not.

Int. Note

The guards I spoke to said Oda dealt poorly with being in jail.

Of course, the newspapers were readily available to the guards and so they read about Oda and about what had happened, and were deeply prejudiced against him on account of the confession he had signed, which seemed to reveal his guilt beyond any doubt.

This is a peculiar matter, because the confession should not have been available to the press. Indeed, the actual confession was not. However, it seems that on the evidence of: a. witnesses seeing Oda Sotatsu dragged away from his house, and b. data from an anonymous source supplied to the press, the newspapers gained the knowledge they needed to investigate further, at which point perhaps police officials disclosed information. What happened precisely is unknown. That there were many newspaper accounts linking the Narito Disappearances to Oda Sotatsu via his own signed confession is beyond doubt.

This led to Oda being dealt with harshly, most particularly because he would not cooperate. He was kept separate from the other prisoners, and visited almost constantly by a series of officials attempting to get information from him. The interrogations that have been made available to me form a part of this narrative, as you know, but are, I suspect, the least part of the many interrogations that took place. It is clear that the guards often would not allow him to sleep ahead of an interrogation in the hopes that it would weaken his will. However that may be, it appears, from the transcripts that we have, that it was not an effective strategy in this case.

Oda Sotatsu was in jail at the police station for a period of twenty days prior to charges being brought. He was then moved to a different facility, for the trial. The entire case was evidently expedited, possibly because of the enormous media scrutiny, and as well because of the confession, and because Oda refused to deal with any potential representation he would have in court.

Interview 4 (Sister)

[Int. note. Oda Minako, Sotatsu’s sister, was living elsewhere, possibly in Korea, when I began this series of interviews. It was important enough to her, when the family spoke about what I was doing, that she chose to return to Japan for some days to speak to me. These interviews also took place in the house I had let. She was an attractive woman, older, of course, and dressed very professionally. It seems she had acquired an advanced education, and was actually a professor at a university in Korea, in what subject I do not recall. She had been away at her studies when Sotatsu was apprehended by the police, and she returned from Tokyo to visit him. She was uncertain of the day, or whether her visits followed or preceded those of other family members. She did say that a childhood friendship with one of the police officers permitted her to actually enter the cell and sit with him, something allowed none of the other family members, and something mentioned by no other source.]

INT.

You were there then, sitting beside him in the cell. You were a young woman, in the midst of her Ph.D., called away into what must have been as absurd a situation as you had ever dealt with.

MINAKO

I was angry with him. He had never lied, not once, and so I was sure that the confession was true. I was worried about the people who had gone missing. I knew two of them personally, an experience the rest of my family did not have, and so …

INT.

And so it was more complicated for you?

MINAKO

You could say so, but I expect it was more than complicated for all of us.

INT.

Of course, I don’t mean to say …

MINAKO

I know, I understand. I just meant that my loyalties, my immediate duties in the situation were twofold. I wanted simultaneously to help my brother, a person I loved as much as I had ever loved anybody. I preferred him, in fact, preferred him to Jiro, to my mother, to my father. He was the only other one who actually read, who encouraged my studies. He wrote a great deal of poetry. He was cultured, although I don’t know that anyone besides me knew that. I don’t believe he shared that with anyone … I wanted to help him, but I also wanted to find these two people who were missing, a woman who had been my violin teacher, and a man, a Shinto priest whom I had visited as a child. I was deeply concerned that they should be missing, and I felt the guilt of their disappearance keenly. If there was something I could do to help them, I must do it, so I told myself.

INT.

And that led to you behaving in a certain way?

MINAKO

One can’t say how one behaved or why, really. Such situations, they are far more complex than any either/or proposition. It is simplistic to produce events in pairs and lean them against each other like cards. I suppose if you are playing go or shogi, then such a thing might be helpful, but that is not life.

INT.

But you might have simply done things to make his time more bearable, irrespective of his guilt, or, alternately, tried to query him about the crime itself.

MINAKO

I did the latter. I sat by him and I told him that he was my brother, that I did not refuse him any family connection based on what happened, but that I needed to know if these people could be helped, or …

INT.

Or?

MINAKO

Or if they were beyond help.

INT.

And did he speak to you?

MINAKO

He did not. He watched me as I came in. He sat by me. He held my hand. When I left, we embraced. But there was no speech. It was as though he had become pre-literate. The expressiveness of his manner was magnified. His actions no longer leaned on his words. All that he meant he meant through his face and eyes, his hands.

INT.

And what did those tell you? How did they speak to you?

MINAKO

That there wasn’t any hope in him, none at all. That he was waiting to die, and did feel, did indeed feel that he was not any part of any community, not ours, not any.

INT.

But he embraced you.

MINAKO

I initiated the embrace. It might have been as much out of habit as anything else. Or out of boredom. Who can say? He had been in the cell a long time.

INT.

His silence, were you prepared for it by the way he had been as a boy?

MINAKO

Everything is contextual. No situation he had been in as a boy was anything like the one I found him in.

Interview 5 (Brother)

[Int. note. When Jiro discovered that Minako had come to be interviewed, he cautioned me against her. He said that she had always been against Sotatsu, that she had enjoyed the prestige that his crime had afforded the family (a peculiar point, and one I did not understand), and that it was in part due to her intervention that Sotatsu’s case had gotten worse. I absorbed this information, but did not act on it in any regard.]

INT.

So you had visited him a half dozen times, simply sitting with him, before this visit that you just began speaking of?

JIRO

As I described before, I simply sat with him. I didn’t expect I could accomplish anything else. I was a young man, and had no idea what I would say, or if there was anything to say.

INT.

But then you had this outburst.

JIRO

Yes, I had the outburst, on my eighth or ninth visit.

INT.

Can you describe the events that led to the outburst?

JIRO

Things had become bad for us in the town. No one would speak to my mother. Only my very best friends would tolerate me, and even then, only in private. My father, who had been a fisherman all his life, could no longer sell his fish. No one would buy them. It came to a head one day when my father went to the store to buy something. I don’t know what he was buying, but the store clerk wouldn’t serve him. They got into an argument that went out into the street. Apparently the grandfather of the store clerk was one of the people who was missing. They were shouting at each other. I wasn’t there, I only know what people say about what happened.

INT.

And what do they say?

JIRO

That he was denying Sotatsu’s guilt. He was saying Sotatsu hadn’t done it. He just kept repeating it over and over, and although the clerk had been the one who was aggressive at first, denying him service and chasing him out of the store, my father became aggressive in the street. He was just shouting at everyone, getting in people’s faces — not behavior anyone had ever seen. He kept saying, He didn’t do it. He didn’t do it. You know him from a boy. You know him. He didn’t do it. The crowd grew, and became angry. Someone hit him. He fell down. Other people began to hit him. He got hit and many people stepped on him before the police arrived. He was badly hurt and had to go to the hospital. And that’s when it got bad.

INT.

How so?

JIRO

At the hospital, they wouldn’t receive him. So, he had to be driven to a different hospital where they did take him.

INT.

How could that be, that the hospital wouldn’t take him?

JIRO

I believe the presiding doctor was connected with a victim of the Disappearances also.

INT.

And so, this is all prelude to your visit, no?

JIRO

That day I went to see Sotatsu. He knew nothing of any of this, and was the same as he had always been, just sitting in the cell. When he saw me, he stood up and came to the bars. I looked at him and I thought, is there something I can see, some change in him that would make him a different person than the one I knew? I looked at him very carefully. I wanted to see who it was I was looking at. And it wasn’t anyone else. It was my brother, Sotatsu. I had always known him. It was absurd that he had done these things. He hadn’t done them. I was suddenly completely sure. I said to him, I said, Brother, I know you didn’t do these things. I don’t know where this confession came from, but it isn’t true. I know this. And I took his hand through the bars.

INT.

The guards let you touch his hand?

JIRO

I don’t remember what the officers were doing. They were watching, but they didn’t stop us. I don’t think they felt that Sotatsu was any danger. If you had ever seen him, you would not think him any danger.

INT.

And what did he say, you said he spoke then, what did he say?

JIRO

He said, Brother, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do it.

INT.

And what did you say? You must have been shocked.

JIRO

I was not shocked. It was what I expected. I said to him that he hadn’t done it, because I believed he hadn’t done it, and then he replied, confirming what I said. It was all very clear.

INT.

But there must have been some relief on your part?

JIRO

I don’t know about that. All of a sudden there appeared a huge mountain to climb where there hadn’t been anything before. Now it was a matter of trying to get him out. Before that it was just visiting, just standing. So, my mind was racing.

INT.

And you said something to him?

JIRO

I told him he needed to get a lawyer to visit him, and he needed to sign a document protesting the confession, refusing it. I told him I would go and apply for the lawyer to visit, if he would agree to it. But he became hesitant. I don’t know, he said. I don’t think it matters. So, I tried to convince him that it mattered, I don’t know what I said, but when I left, he had agreed to speak to the lawyer and tell the lawyer what he told me. I left, and went straight to visit my father in the hospital. My mother was there, and I told them. My mother was just shaking. She didn’t cry, just sat there shaking. My father had many bandages and such. He seemed to stiffen. He said, Why did he sign the confession, ask him that. I said that I hadn’t thought to ask him that. He said I should have thought of that. I apologized for not having thought of that. He was always very hard on me, my father.

INT.

And then you went to make the application for the lawyer’s visit?

JIRO

I did.

INT.

And the lawyer was scheduled to visit after three days, you said.

JIRO

Then I went to see my brother again. That was the next day, I think. I had to work, so I visited him late. He seemed happy to see me, for the first time. I asked him why he had signed the confession. If he hadn’t done it, why had he signed it? He said he couldn’t speak about it. I said he would have to. He became quiet again. I couldn’t get any more out of him. So, I stood there for about forty-five minutes hoping he would change his mind and speak. He didn’t. I reminded him I was coming with the lawyer and I left.

INT.

What day was this?

JIRO

I don’t know what day. This was so long ago! He had been in jail for at least two weeks by this time. I got up the next day and went to see my father, before going on shift at the factory. I was still feeling hopeful. I thought maybe the lawyer could convince him to talk about it. When I got to the hospital, my father was much improved. They were going to release him that day. He could walk around on his own. I told him the news, that I had gotten the lawyer to come, and that I had tried to find out about the confession. He was very cold.

INT.

What did he say?

JIRO

He has always been cold to me. I don’t think he ever liked me. But this time he was very hard. What had happened to him, maybe it used up something that he had. Now he had no more of it. He told me that I was a fool. That I was running errands for a fool and that I was a fool. My sister came in while he was talking. I hadn’t even known she was there. I thought she was in Tokyo. They both started talking about how Sotatsu had signed the confession and it must be true. How I was always believing people, that I was foolish, that I should let people with better judgment take charge of things. They said it was clear he had done the crime, the thing now was to get him to admit it in a way that would save him being executed. This other thing, of him being innocent, was just a fantasy, a fantasy I had put on him. When I described how I had told Sotatsu that I thought he was innocent, and that my words had made him speak to me about being innocent, my sister became angry. She told me that I was stupid, going around behaving this way, that I should not put a stick into a beehive. My father agreed. He told me to go away, that he would see me once he was at home, but that he just wanted to rest now. He was going to go home later that day, but for now, he wanted to rest. I left with my sister, and she told me again that I was an idiot for causing my father more harm and worry when he had already been put in the hospital, been beaten up, had nearly died. I apologized. I was confused and, again, I keep saying this, but I was very young and didn’t know very much. Now, I would act differently, I think, but then, my sister had always been the one who was right. My father also. I had been a disappointment to both of them.

(End of tape.)

Interview 6 (Brother)

[Int. note. The brother left the day before without concluding our interview. He had evidently found it difficult speaking of the relations among himself, his father, and his sister. I think it points to how important Sotatsu was to him that he would even consider disclosing these things to me, a stranger. He had an enormous desire, Jiro, to get the complete and true account of these things across. I had come to believe he disliked me; in fact, I’m almost sure of it. However, he also believed that I was going to do the thing properly. In his work with unions, he perhaps had gotten used to compromises, to making compromises and working with people he disliked. Nonetheless, it was difficult for him to speak in this manner, so we stopped for the day and the next day we resumed.]

INT.

So, you went from the hospital, from seeing your sister, directly to the jail?

JIRO

I could not; I had to work. I went to the police station when my shift was done, perhaps at eight in the evening. When I got there, I saw a person leaving, a girl I knew Sotatsu had been familiar with.

INT.

She had been his girlfriend?

JIRO

I don’t believe so. I think she knew him, though. So, I assumed she had been there to see him, although it puzzled me. I thought only family were allowed visits. Evidently, she had been admitted, and admitted many times. One of the guards told me she had been coming every day. Jito Joo was her name.

INT.

Did she greet you as she passed?

JIRO

She ignored me, which was not surprising. We were not on friendly terms, and everyone in the town was ignoring me at that time.

INT.

So, what happened when you reached his cell?

JIRO

The lawyer was there already, in the station. He accompanied me to the cell. Sotatsu stood there with his back to us and he told the lawyer to leave. The lawyer was quite angry. He was very busy. Did I know he had literally hundreds of cases? Did I know he had no time for such things? I apologized as much as I could, and went with the lawyer out of the station, apologizing the whole way to the car, where the lawyer got in and drove away. When I went back into the station and the officers took me again to Sotatsu he would not speak to me. He wouldn’t turn around. He stood in the middle of the cell, facing away from me. I was sure that meant he was innocent. But, if he wouldn’t say it, I didn’t know what to do. I went home and my girlfriend, she was waiting for me in the driveway. She told me she had taken her things. She was moving back to her parents’ house. She couldn’t see me anymore.

INT.

It was a bad time.

JIRO

You could say that.

INT.

And then you saw your mother at home?

JIRO

I went to their house and my father was asleep. My mother was washing something, a shirt or something. She was washing it and washing it. It didn’t need to be washed anymore. I stood there and talked to her and she said that my father had made the decision and that was that. What was the decision, I asked. She said we were no longer going to talk about any Sotatsu. That I was now the first son, that there was no Sotatsu and hadn’t ever been. She said my sister had gone back to Tokyo, my one sibling had gone back to Tokyo, and that we were four, that there were four of us in the family. I didn’t say anything to this. I just left.

Interrogation 4

Second of November, 1977. Oda Sotatsu. Inspectors’ names unrecorded.

[Int. note. Again, transcript of session recording, possibly altered or shoddily made. Original recording not heard. Furthermore, it appears that many interrogations are missing from the record, as it is absurd to conclude Sotatsu was not interrogated at all between the nineteenth of October and the second of November. This transcript is large. The inspector speaks at length on various matters, possibly trying to elicit a response from Sotatsu. He refers to previous conversations they have had, which are unrecorded. This is further evidence for the suppression of interrogation transcripts. I will note that it was not necessary at the time for these transcripts to be released, so the destruction of empty-interrogation sessions is potentially legitimate.]

OFFICER 3

I want you to tell me about these cards. These are the cards you left on the doors. Why did you do that?

ODA

(silent)

OFFICER 3

Nothing in your history suggests you care at all about France, that you have any acquaintance with France. Yes, musically, we can see you have some recordings. But, beyond that, cards … It’s unclear where you even obtained them. Tell me at least that. Where did you buy these cards?

ODA

(silent)

OFFICER 3

I am just thinking, I have a daughter who likes these sorts of things. She is kind of empty-headed, a dreamer. You know the type. She is too pretty for her own good. A father should not say such things, I know. But I think she would be better off a bit plainer but with good sense. Anyway, she would love to have cards like these. But I don’t know where to get them. Where should I go to get these cards? Perhaps in Tokyo? You have a sister in Tokyo, no? Does she like cards? She studies languages, no? She speaks German, Korean, English. Does she speak French, your sister?

ODA

(silent)

OFFICER 3

Maybe I will call this sister of yours. Maybe I will send someone to ask her, does she speak French. Or you could spare me the trouble. You could just tell me. I would trust your answer.

(Tape-device clicks off.)

Interview 7 (Mother)

[Int. note. When I brought up the details that Jiro had spoken of, the narrative of the father’s beating, Sotatsu’s possible recanting of the confession, the visit of the sister, etc., Mrs. Oda became very agitated. She said that Jiro meant no good for anyone, that he was against the rest of the family and always had been. She said that he was jealous of his sister’s good fortune, and that he had no sense of family responsibility. I was not to trust anything he might say. I asked her if she could speak of particular things he brought up, because I wanted to clear up the record. I wanted to make the record as clear as possible. Would she mind that?]

[She said she would not.]

INT.

The first question is, what happened at the store?

MRS. ODA

You mean, when my husband had his accident?

INT.

Yes, the accident. How did that come about?

MRS. ODA

Everyone in the town had turned against us. They felt that we were just as guilty as Sotatsu. Maybe it was true, maybe it would have been true, that we were all equally guilty. That is what my husband believed. He thought it was his fault, in particular. All of a sudden, we were despised. We were the lowest ones of all. No one would speak to me. People I had spoken to for years, I would pass them in the street and they would do this thing, this stepping away. They would walk a little farther away than usual. Maybe someone else couldn’t see it, but I could see it. It was very evident, this distance. Also, some would even, they would even spit on us. Children.

INT.

Children would spit on you?

MRS. ODA

It happened once. From a window, a child spat on me. Mr. Oda knocked on the door of the house, but no one answered.

INT.

But we were talking about the accident.

MRS. ODA

My husband went to buy some rice flour. We were out of rice flour and he wanted to buy some for me so I could do the cooking. At the store, the clerk, a mean little person, I had never liked him, never. He refused to sell my husband the flour. My husband put the money on the counter and took the rice flour. The clerk followed after my husband, saying his money was no good. He threw the money at my husband. I think he never liked my husband. He threw it on him, the money, and he shouted that he could never come in the store again. My husband tried to talk to him. He said, You know he didn’t do it. Sotatsu does not do things like that. It is a mistake. But the man wouldn’t hear of it. He just started hitting my husband with a stick, a cane of some kind. He started that, and then he was chasing him. My husband tried to run away, but others caught him and they held him down and hit him until the police came. The police didn’t even check to see who had done it. They told everyone to go. The police felt it was all right for this to have been done.

INT.

And then the hospital wouldn’t accept him?

MRS. ODA

The hospital wouldn’t accept him. He was bleeding all over. He wasn’t even awake. He was going in and out. The doctor looked at him, opened the back of the ambulance, looked at him and said that he would not receive him at that hospital, that everyone should know he would not do such a thing for the Oda family. I don’t know. I ask you, how can such a person be a doctor? My husband was taken to another place where there were real doctors, an actual hospital, not like this first one. There he was taken care of. In all the years since, I have never gone to that hospital, not once. I tell my friends, also, do not go there. That is not a good place.

INT.

But the main thing I wanted to ask you about was Sotatsu telling Jiro that he hadn’t done it.

MRS. ODA

We did not believe Jiro. He was always a difficult child, did poorly in school, was always lying. He was a lying child, every time he would say something it was likely to be something a person couldn’t believe. You had to look at everything from three sides and even then it would turn out to be false. So, he gets it in his head he would convince Sotatsu of something. We did not believe him. Also, he picked the worst time to tell anyone about this. In the hospital room when my husband was nearly dying? He did not die, no. But he was almost dying, very close to it. My daughter came from Tokyo, just to see my husband, just because of his injuries. She did not visit Sotatsu. She was there, and she didn’t like it either, what Jiro was doing. We were not alone.

INT.

But he is your son.

MRS. ODA

Yes, he is. He has done better for himself. Now he has a good family. He is no longer the same. But when he remembers that time, I do not think he can be trusted.

Interview 8 (Mother)

[Int. note. Mrs. Oda returned specifically to explain her last point. I was woken up by knocking at the door of the house where I was staying. I went downstairs and there she was. She apologized for the sudden visit, but felt there was something that must be cleared up.]

MRS. ODA

I will tell you a story about Jiro. I will explain why he cannot be trusted, not really at all. He used to have a game where he would pretend that he was a lord and he would have his toys come before him and present him with cases to decide. He thought this was a very amusing game. I do not remember him ever playing it with anyone else, just alone. He would do different voices for the different toys. They did not need to be figures in order to bring a petition. His favorite spoon, for instance, was often coming. First in line, second in line, third in line — they would all argue and jostle, trying to be the first to speak to Jiro, and he would sit on a little stage he had made and argue with them or tell them what was what. Well, it would be like this: Jiro would say, who is this and what have they to say? And the little wooden box would be there in front of the spoon which was in front of the cloth bird and they would all be shouting and saying things and Jiro would hold up his hand for silence. Then there would be some quiet and he would say they would all be taken and killed if they couldn’t speak in turn. Then the box would say, I don’t know what it would say exactly, this was something that went on all the time, hundreds of times. Possibly the box had something it was always asking for, and never getting, I don’t know. But it might say, I don’t like the spot where I am put at night. Often other ones get placed on my head and it’s uncomfortable, and Jiro would say, don’t open your mouth again or I will have you killed, and he would send the box away. Then it was the spoon’s turn. He would say that, would say the same thing every time. No matter what was said to him, he would say that, don’t open your mouth again or I will have you killed. I doubt he even remembers it. This was long ago, even before he went to school.

INT.

But why do you say that he can’t be trusted? I’m sorry, I don’t see …

MRS. ODA

That he thinks everyone should receive the same treatment, regardless of what they did or what they say? Or that it doesn’t matter what anyone does — it all ends up the same? Maybe he has changed some things about himself, but a boy is a boy. He is still the same one he was. Don’t tell him that I told you this. Or do. I guess I don’t know.

(She roots around in her bag and brings out an old soup spoon.)

MRS. ODA

This is it, I thought I would bring it to show you. For some reason, he would always have this spoon go on and on. It was like the spoon was trying the most to convince him. But it never did. I would be sitting in the next room and listening as he would play this game. I would listen to the whole game. Every time I listened, from beginning to end. The things he would have them say, you couldn’t believe. But this spoon was always the one with the most elaborate excuses, the most long-winded little speeches. Always it was the same, though. Don’t open your mouth again, or I will have you killed. I really pitied the spoon, so, so I still have it.

INT.

It is a keepsake, from Jiro’s childhood. That’s a good thing to have, and a good reason to have it.

MRS. ODA

Oh no, I don’t think of it that way. I rescued it from him. I don’t think he cared about the spoon at all.

Interview 9 (Father)

[Int. note. I had attempted to speak with the father on many occasions. He would agree over the telephone to meet, and then the day would come and he would simply not arrive. His wife gave many excuses: his declining health; the difficulty of travel; the day was hot, etc. When we spoke again on the telephone he would act confused. He had not known we were to meet, etc. After perhaps nine or ten such assignations, he finally arrived. He was extremely thin and small, hardly the dominating force that he had seemed to be from his family’s accounts of him. However, when he spoke, there was a certain forcefulness there. Like his son, he appeared to distrust and dislike me. He felt that I was attempting to trick Mrs. Oda into telling me things that I shouldn’t hear. He had come to set things straight. I was not to listen to the things that Mrs. Oda said. He wanted to make that clear. He was going to tell me some things, and that would be that. The things he would tell me would take the place of what Mrs. Oda had said, and certainly should take the place of whatever nonsense his son was feeding me. He was surprised to hear that Minako had spoken to me. He did not know she was in the country, and seemed confused by the news. It took a little while to get him back on track. He preferred to speak in the yard, so occasionally on the tape there is the sound of traffic in the distance. He said that when one was his age, any day with a fine afternoon sun like that had to be used. One had to use things when one had them, so he said.]

INT.

Where shall we begin?

MR. ODA

I was not surprised when I heard the news, when I was told by our neighbor that someone had seen my son taken away to the police station. I can tell you that, Mr. Ball. I was not surprised at all. If these things took others by surprise, well, they did not take me by surprise.

INT.

Why were you not surprised? How could you possibly have guessed that such a thing would happen?

MR. ODA

I have always known that something terrible was going to come. Until then our life had gone well. I was living in the shadow of this thing, this terrible thing that no one else could see. But, I knew that it was coming. Fishermen are not like other people. We can tell things; not like priests. I am not saying we are special or deserve any regard. We deserve no regard. In fact, one might say we are the lowest ones, drudging around in the water for a lifestyle that keeps one’s family poor, that never amounts to anything. But we do see things. Sometimes we see them before they happen. It is not reliable. It isn’t the same as knowing about things. One doesn’t find it useful, you see? Do you, do you see? It isn’t a useful thing. It is just a thing. I knew something grave was coming, and when it came, I recognized it. I had seen it before, you see. It was like an old friend. Or an old enemy. One saw, though, immediately, that there were no preparations that could have been made. That sort of thing is just foolishness.

INT.

So, you thought Sotatsu was doomed? That he never would have amounted to anything?

MR. ODA

He and my brother got along very well. My brother’s business was nearly ruined by that, by Sotatsu’s presence. But they got on well.

INT.

Why did you not visit your son in the jail?

MR. ODA

What do you mean? I went there. I went there first, before anyone.

INT.

I’m sorry, I know that, I meant to say, why did you not visit him after that first visit? Why did you stop going?

MR. ODA

This is not the reason I came here to talk to you.

INT.

Do you have something else you want to talk about?

MR. ODA

I do. I do.

INT.

Well, tell me what you want to tell me. I am ready to hear anything you have to say.

MR. ODA

Mr. Ball, my son was ill. He was ill his whole life. He was sick once as an infant. My wife denies it, but she is a moron. He cried once for two weeks straight and his head turned blue. He recovered, but he was never the same. He was always ill with this, whatever it was. He thought he could hear bells ringing all the time. It was part of his illness. That’s why he was always playing records. He wanted it out of his head.

INT.

No one else says anything about this.

MR. ODA

You shouldn’t listen to the others. This is what we are saying, that I am telling you the things now that you can use. We are talking about that.

INT.

I understand that. You said that already.

MR. ODA

Maybe others couldn’t see it, but I always could. I could always tell when he was about to do something stupid. He would get this blue look, this look that I recalled from his childhood. It would be like he was being strangled, but he wasn’t, and you would know, you would just know — he is going to do something now that everyone will regret. And then he would do it. Of course, he would never apologize either, afterward. He would do something like, for instance, he would forget to greet me when I came in. I would just stare at him and stare at him, waiting, and the longer I stared the more I could see it building up. Then, instead of saying anything, anything at all, he’d just up and run off out of the house. And Jiro would run off too. Anything he did, Jiro would do. Only Jiro didn’t have the sense that Oda sometimes had. Although now, it’s not easy to say which one turned out worse.

INT.

Are you angry at Jiro for something that he has done?

MR. ODA

You come here and it is like you are going to fix something, but either the thing that is broken is part of something that is gone, or you are doing no good with the thing that is still around. I don’t know why I came to talk to you.

INT.

Please, just let me ask you a few questions. You said at one point, after the accident, when you were in the hospital, you said …

MR. ODA

That is an invention of my wife’s. I was not in the hospital. I don’t know about that. She talks about it sometimes. I don’t know where she got that.

INT.

All right. Well. It is said that you forbade the family from visiting with or talking about Sotatsu. That you were very angry with Sotatsu and no longer wanted to have him be a part of your family, that you specifically told your daughter, your wife, and your son not to speak to him or visit him. Is that true?

MR. ODA:

I do not think that you, I think, I …

[Int. note. Here, Mr. Oda got up and left the house in great confusion, stopping occasionally to tell me that I should not speak to his wife, his son, or his daughter, that his son was not to be believed, and that he did not understand why I had come in the first place. I apologized to him for making any difficulty, and told him that I was going to use his testimony as well as any other testimony I could find because I wanted the account to be complete. He said that this was an idea with no merit, that there wasn’t anything complete, that I should just leave.]

Int. Note: Regarding the Newspaper Coverage of the Trial

For the next section, I will provide you with the serialized coverage of the Oda Trial that ran in many newspapers throughout Japan during that time. The writer, Ko Eiji, was a well-known journalist with a particular stylistic approach that endeared him to his audience. Nonetheless, during these proceedings he provided a mostly clear delineation of opinion and fact. I will not give all of his serialization, but enough to make events apparent. His serialization can be divided into:

1. sketches of the main individuals involved

a. Oda Sotatsu

b. Judge X

c. Judge Y

d. Judge Z

e. Prosecutor W

f. Defense Counsel R

2. descriptions of the emotional climate in which the trial took place

3. daily account

a. events in court

b. notable events in jail

c. sentencing, exit of Oda Sotatsu

That Ko was biased against Oda Sotatsu is very evident. I ask you to understand that it is almost inconceivable that he should write in a markedly unbiased manner at this time, even if he felt differently. I do not believe that he did feel differently. I believe that he wrote as he felt. However, it is simply a fact that temperatures in the Sakai region were running very high. I like to think that if I had written a contemporaneous account, I might have kept my equanimity and been a bit more forgiving than he proved to be. It is likely that such a hope is just a pretension. One may often (after the fact) criticize the play-by-play in a boxing match, but the simple fact is, the commentator must continue speaking, whatever he sees, however much or how little, however bad his position relative to the fighters.

I should note also that Ko is a pen name. It indicates a principle in Go, whereby a person must move a stone elsewhere on the board before playing back into a particular contested area. In this way, he sets himself up as a lover of complexities. You may decide for yourself if he deserves the name he has given himself.

Incidentally, this account was used by newspapers not only in Osaka Prefecture but throughout Japan.

ODA TRIAL COVERAGE [Ko Eiji]

Sketch of ODA SOTATSU.

ODA SOTATSU

Son of a fisherman, Oda Sotatsu. Twenty-nine years old. A product of the Osaka Prefecture school system. What was his work? A clerk in a thread concern. It has been several weeks since he was removed from the population, and why? He is accused of the abduction and perhaps murder of eleven of your fellow citizens. This young man, this quiet individual — it is rumored he has even confessed to the crimes. I give you now a pen sketch of Oda as he sits in the courtroom under the hard eyes of his three judges.

Hair cut rather short — perhaps expressly for the trial. It was rumored it was long when he was brought in. He sits uneasily in his chair wearing a very cheap suit, a suit, as someone once said, made to be hanged in. He is small of stature, and his gaunt cheeks express at least some of the savageness that must lurk beneath his unthreatening exterior. Most of all, most chilling of all to the observer is the despicable coldness of the eyes. Nothing anyone says seems to move him. He is in a globe of cold that refuses all human contact. We shall see if he can maintain the same air when the judges pronounce their sentence at the trial’s conclusion.

ODA TRIAL COVERAGE [Ko Eiji]

Sketch of JUDGES: Judge Iguchi; Judge Handa; Judge Shibo.

JUDGE IGUCHI

The first to enter. Strength of character is evident in the line of the jaw, the poise of the shoulders. One can see that the first thing Iguchi does is to fix Mr. Oda in his gaze and to hold him there, as though a hawk has beheld a mouse. His many years of distinguished trial service recommend him to us.

JUDGE HANDA

A relative newcomer, Judge Handa has seen his share of difficult and complicated cases, and has rendered many powerful and just decisions. Known for his conduct in the Misaki trial of 1975, he was feted in the newspapers at the time. Since then he has only continued his good work. If Mr. Oda believes that Judge Handa’s relative youth will be a factor in his favor, one would be startled by the optimism.

JUDGE SHIBO

It is not necessary to describe this man to the public of the Sakai region. His omnipresence in community affairs and his generosity make him a distinguished role model both for our youth and for those of us who still can change for the better. He is active as a professor in university as well as in his judicial vocation, and it is clear that the case benefits from his presence. A tall man, he is known for a habit of holding one elbow with the fingers of his opposite hand while considering a case (as shown in last year’s famous and excellent judicial illustration by the artist Haruna).

I hardly think the public could be better served in this case.

ODA TRIAL COVERAGE [Ko Eiji]

Sketch of Prosecution and Defense: Prosecutor Saito, and Defense Counsel Uchiyama.

PROSECUTOR SAITO

Known for a time as the man with the 100 percent conviction rate, a prosecutor consulted for many years by other lawyers in districts far afield for his definitive opinions, Prosecutor Saito comes with the very highest possible honors to this trial. It is rumored that his pretrial investigations have led him to another certain conviction. We shall see the effect of that ourselves. It was said at one time that as a young man, Saito resembled a heron. Whether this was meant with a view to humor or to the establishment of dignity, who can say? If he remains a heron, it is one in flight. When he lands to wade in criminal waters it is a sacrifice he makes on our collective behalf.

DEFENSE COUNSEL UCHIYAMA

In fifteen years of service, the stolid Uchiyama has kept his search for the truth at the forefront of his pursuit of excellence. His sturdy build and strong face should reassure the public; he does nothing without thought for the victims, for the populace, for justice, and for the eventual absolution of the criminal. Well-known among his comrades, he has earned a fine reputation. We look forward to seeing his work in this trial.

ODA TRIAL COVERAGE [Ko Eiji]

DAY ONE

Oda Sotatsu is brought into the room. He is seated. He, Prosecutor Saito, and Defense Counsel Uchiyama await the entrance of the judges. One by one the judges enter the room and are seated.

The rumor is that while in police custody, Mr. Oda refused to speak. It is said by some in the radical press that he was treated badly, and that view may well be borne out by the poor health he appears to exhibit. However, opponents of that view would be quick to point out that remorse could easily be destroying his health. Whatever the case is, we shall see if he continues his silence into the trial.

The prosecutor and defense counsel approach the judges. Some discussion is evident. They return to their places. The prosecution presents its indictment. Oda Sotatsu is accused of the abduction and murder of eleven individuals. When the charges are read, Mr. Oda is unmoved. His knuckles are not white, his pupils do not dilate, his brow does not quiver. He is quite unmoved.

Nothing seems to touch him as Prosecutor Saito speaks, not even the reading aloud of a damning document signed by Mr. Oda himself prior to reaching police custody. It is a confession, but it is not a confession signed and countersigned legally in the eyes of the law. It may show his guilt, but whether it can be considered the equal of a properly-arrived-at-confession is a matter to be discovered in time.

The judges confer. The question is brought to Oda Sotatsu and to Defense Counsel Uchiyama:

Will Oda Sotatsu admit or deny the facts as set down in the indictment?

Oda Sotatsu speaks. It is as though he is summoning up words from deep within him, with great difficulty. At first what he says cannot be made out. Judge Shibo asks that he speak louder. He is made to speak louder. He says, He does not know about the facts of the indictment, yet he holds to the confession that he signed, as he signed it.

This is not good enough for the judges. Again, he is asked, concerning the facts of the indictment prepared by Prosecutor Saito, does he admit or deny them? Mr. Oda repeats himself. He does not know about the facts of the indictment, yet he holds to the confession that he signed, as he signed it. Mr. Oda is told that he has just heard the indictment. He cannot be thought ignorant of the indictment. What is being asked of him is that he simply admit or deny those facts. Mr. Oda speaks again, he says that he, while aware of the indictment, nonetheless can neither admit nor deny it, rather, he respectfully holds to the confession that he has signed, as he signed it.

Through all this, Defense Counsel Uchiyama appears greatly chagrined, but attempts to appear unmoved. Can it be he did not know this was going to happen?

The judges call for a recess. The trial will continue on the following day.

ODA TRIAL COVERAGE [Ko Eiji]

DAY TWO

Oda Sotatsu is brought into the room. He is seated. He, Prosecutor Saito, and Defense Counsel Uchiyama await the entrance of the judges. One by one the judges enter the room and are seated.

The judges announce: it has been decided that, as the general effect of the language present in the confession is a mirror to that of the indictment, it is legitimate and appropriate that admitting the facts of the confession is identical to admitting the facts of the indictment, and that as a practical matter, it shall be considered as such in this case.

The court will therefore be recessed for the day, and on the following day Prosecutor Saito will present his case.

ODA TRIAL COVERAGE [Ko Eiji]

CONDITION OF MR. ODA

It has become known that Oda Sotatsu has, at some point in the week previous, stopped eating altogether. At the point of the trial’s inception, he was on the fourth or fifth day of his fast. In the radical papers, it is being called a hunger strike. We see no grounds for that, as it is not apparent that Mr. Oda’s fast has any purpose, or any possible object. Certainly, Mr. Oda has not made that object known.

ODA TRIAL COVERAGE [Ko Eiji]

ATMOSPHERE IN THE PREFECTURE

While staying in the region for the trial, I have witnessed a huge outpouring of emotion. There is great hope that the trial may move Mr. Oda to confess the location of the victims of the Narito Disappearances. Whether that will happen or not is, however, completely unknown. It is even espoused in some legal circles that the trial may be lengthened in the hopes that the particular sort of pressure it exerts might be helpful in eliciting a full disclosure by Mr. Oda. Whether that will be the case or not is unclear. Certainly it appears that no effort has been spared in the selection of the individuals involved in the trial. Also, the results of Prosecutor Saito’s pretrial investigation have not yet been made known. It is quite conceivable that he has discovered information that may be of use.

Interview

[Int. note. I had intended to give you more of Ko Eiji’s serialization, but I find that I want, again and again, to intercede and explain things. Therefore, I believe, we will continue, as if on foot, together. I decided to try to find Mr. Ko; indeed, I managed to find Mr. Ko, and he consented to speak to me about the trial. I present the results of that interview below.]

[This interview took place in Ko Eiji’s own home, a shabby building on the south side of Sakai. His daughter let me in, but left immediately after seeing that I was situated and given various measures of hospitality. We sat by a long series of windows looking out toward the harbor. The old journalist explained that he liked to sit there in the mornings, but that the noise became too much in the afternoon, and he would retire then to the far side of the house. I told him that the interview would likely not take such a long time as that.]

INT.

Mr. Ko, I wonder if you would give an explanation of the final days of the trial of Oda Sotatsu. Your coverage of it was quite sensational at the time, and syndicated throughout the country. How did events play out?

KO

He simply wouldn’t speak. There were, I suppose, many things he might have said. He said none of them. Apart from the moment when he was made to speak, at the trial’s beginning, he did not speak again. It simply wasn’t the way a prisoner should behave, certainly not the way an innocent man would. The whole thing defied reason. If it was a joke, it was the strangest joke in the world, and for a person to risk his own life, and with no sense of what anything might mean? I just don’t know.

INT.

Some have said that the forced feeding that went on, that may have made him willful. Do you believe that view?

KO

Certainly, after the fourth day of trial when he was becoming seriously ill from his fast, that’s when they began to feed him. I think then there was a definite change in his manner. While his behavior was outwardly the same, he seemed resigned. There was even less to be found in his eyes than before.

INT.

And you were all hoping that he would speak about the victims?

KO

The judges questioned him repeatedly and at great length about the victims. It was to no avail. His own lawyer, I believe it was Yano Haruo, the defense counsel …

INT.

It was Mr. Uchiyama, I believe.

KO

Oh, yes, dear me, it has been so many years. Uchiyama Isao. He is dead, I believe. Just a few years back. A man with a large family. They have always lived in Sakai, I believe, many generations.

INT.

You were saying that the defense counsel …

KO

The defense counsel, let me see … ah, yes, the defense counsel even tried to convince him, tell all, please tell all, it will be the best for you and all concerned. He really was a good man, a very good, just man, Uchiyama. Very respected. He tried everything he could with Oda. I spoke to him alone about it, long afterward. It was a great regret of his, the whole thing. Some blamed him. Unfairly, but, well, some did. Uchiyama told me he kept a picture of Oda in his house for many years, the rest of the time he was practicing, just to remind him — we know so little about our fellow men. There is always more to know. Do you know what he said to me? What Uchiyama said? On the day he retired, he tore the picture up and threw it out. He didn’t want to look at it anymore. I think he felt he had tried with Oda. He had begged him to speak and explain himself. But Oda was unmoved.

INT.

And the result was?

KO

The result was that the trial came to an end. He wouldn’t speak, and the facts seemed relatively clear. He had said in his confession that the twelve victims were taken from this place and that place, all information that was nowhere else to be found, not in the newspapers, nowhere. I think the newspapers had only known about some of the victims anyway. There is a burden, a revelation of secret that has to occur — and that was it. The confession is never enough on its own, or shouldn’t be. Perhaps it sometimes is. It shouldn’t be. In this case there was more. All these people had disappeared. You have to understand, we were very concerned. Everyone in Sakai, in Osaka Prefecture, we were very concerned.

INT.

I do, I appreciate that.

KO

There was just no way anyone could have known.

INT.

And the sentence — did Mr. Oda accept it in the same spirit that he accepted the rest?

KO

The sentence was, as you know, he would be hanged. He would go to a prison and wait for some time, and thereafter be hanged. Some had spoken of leniency in the case, based on his silence, his aberrant behavior. Perhaps he was mad? He did not appear mad to me, or to the judges. No one in the room thought he was mad. The work of the court is to give justice, it is the one measure of a society, when all other measures are abandoned. How do you give justice? Here we had twelve …

INT.

Eleven, I believe.

KO

Yes, yes, eleven victims. Who was to speak for them?

INT.

But the reading of the sentence. Did it affect him?

KO

Not noticeably. I believe he was aware that it would come. It was not a surprise to any of us.

INT.

I will read to you what you wrote on that occasion. You wrote, So ends the long, painful story of the Narito Disappearances. Sadly, we know as little at the end as we did at the beginning. We have found someone to blame for it, but are no better equipped to factually answer the question, where are our lost family members and why were they taken? These are secrets it seems that Oda Sotatsu will bear with him to the grave. May they give him no solace there.

(A minute’s pause.)

INT.

How does that sound to you now?

(Tape-device clicks off.)

[Int. note. Here Ko Eiji chose to stop the interview.]

Int. Note

[That afternoon, I left Ko Eiji’s house and went to the industrial area round about. I walked for a very long time, eventually making my way back to the hotel where I was staying. When I got there, his daughter was sitting outside on a bench. She said there was something more her father wanted to tell me. Would I come back with her right then? I agreed, and we hailed a cab. It was pleasant, riding in a cab with this young woman who so clearly disapproved of me and of my treatment of her father. She did not like having been dispatched on such an errand. When we got to the house, she unlocked the door, and we went up the stairs. She showed me to where her father was, and again went away. I don’t actually know if this was even Ko Eiji’s daughter. Perhaps it was his assistant or amanuensis. I certainly didn’t ask. Yet one would imagine, if she had been his helper, she would not have been so reluctant to go here and there on his errands. Who can say? I sat down and turned on my tape-device.]

KO

Let’s not worry about that for a moment.

(He brings out a shogi board.)

KO

Do you play?

INT.

Badly. I am much better at …

KO

at Western chess, I suppose?

(Laughs.)

INT.

Yes, certainly.

KO

Do you know how the pieces move?

INT.

I do. I believe I do. You might have to remind me of a rule or two.

KO

Then let us play a game.

[We played three games of shogi, and in each I was soundly beaten. When the games were over, we sat for a while, not saying anything. Ko Eiji’s assistant brought us something hot to drink. The light changed slowly as the streetlamps lit up all along the roads and avenues. The day lasted longest out on the water, but even there it eventually fell away, perhaps most completely.]

KO

I don’t like the way this ended, our conversation. That’s why I asked you back.

INT.

Our conversation?

KO

Our conversation. I don’t like this conclusion. I have something else to say. This is what it is: I went there to the prison during the fast.

INT.

To see Sotatsu?

KO

To see him.

INT.

And what did you see?

KO

He was weak and tired, but the guards woke him up. The chief guard on duty accompanied me and they made a big show of presenting Oda with his food, which he did not eat. It was strange, and at the time, I felt odd about it. Now I feel, well, you see, it isn’t clear, not even now, which way it was.

INT.

Whether …

KO

Whether they were starving him or not. But they put this food in front of him and he didn’t eat it. I saw that. My photographer took pictures of him and we left. I looked him in the eye, or tried to. But, I saw nothing. He didn’t appear to even see me. I suppose I looked like any of the others.

INT.

But you weren’t like the others?

KO

I was a journalist. I was trying to see what was there.

INT.

But even with that, you …

KO

Yes, even then, I failed.

INT.

Can you say …

KO

I want you to know it wasn’t that easy for me — not as easy as the newspaper accounts make it sound. We knew so little. I just, I couldn’t understand it. Well …

(Silence on the tape for another minute, and then it clicks off.)

Int. Note: Transfer to Death Row

Following the trial, Oda Sotatsu was transferred from the jail where he was being held to an actual prison. Within that prison, he was placed on what is known as death row. Oda Sotatsu did not appeal the verdict of his trial, or the sentence of death by hanging. He merely continued in silence. His family did not visit him at the prison, with the exception of his brother, Jiro, who came as often as he could. There was one other visitor: Jito Joo. But that account will follow in the second section of this book. For now, we shall proceed through the last months of Oda Sotatsu. The information we have about this time comes from Jiro, and from interviews I have conducted with men who were guards.

Interview 10 (Brother)

[Int. note. In the meantime, Jiro had heard about my interview with his father, and had heard of the argument that had broken out (in his father’s estimation). It seems that by turning his father against me, I had obtained some measure of trust from Jiro. He was much more open and warm with me. He wanted actually to see the transcript of my interview with his father. This, of course, I could not allow. He did caution me that his father was considered by many people to be demented, and that I should not in any way take his opinions seriously, although certainly he understood that I was likely to include them in the account. He invited me to visit a house he owned in a different part of Osaka Prefecture. I could stay for some days and obtain the rest of the information I needed. He was to be there with his wife and children for three weeks, a vacation of some kind. He could be at my disposal. This enormous change was very moving. I felt immediately that I ought to have unintentionally offended his father long before, if this was the tangible result. This first (of the second session of interviews) interview took place outdoors in a pavilion on Oda Jiro’s land. The “house,” as he termed it, was rather a modest estate. There were two main buildings and several small outbuildings. A creek ran through the property and there was a fine garden as well as a curated wood with a walk set through it. In short, it was a magical place, designed by Jiro himself, giving a clear indication that his sister had perhaps paid her youngest brother short shrift when she accounted him a philistine. As I said, for this first interview regarding Sotatsu’s time on death row, we sat at an outdoor pavilion. Jiro’s daughter, who was six, had taken a liking to me and was repeatedly bringing me flowers — these are the interruptions in the tape, which I may or may not omit from the transcript in the book proper. In any case, as you can see, even as things became grimmer for Sotatsu, I had emerged into a place of sunlight. I felt full of hope: now I truly would be able to tell the whole story of this tragic life.]

INT.

I wonder if you could speak at all on the subject of your brother’s starvation attempt, or hunger strike, as some have called it. As I understand the facts, you were unable to be in the courtroom for the trial, but you visited him during that period at the jail. Is that so?

JIRO

I visited him three or four times during the trial. My foreman at the plant where I worked had become frustrated with me and was looking for any excuse to fire me, which he eventually did. I could only manage to get time on perhaps seven or eight occasions, and on at least four of those I arrived at the jail only to be told I could not see him, that he was being exercised, fed, etc.

INT.

Do you know what these feedings consisted of?

JIRO

I do not. They found some way of forcing him to eat. I don’t know if they used a tube or held him and forced things down his throat. I don’t know. It could have been as simple as a priest with a spoon. My brother had an irrational liking for priests.

INT.

But you had seen that he was not eating? On your visits there, you had seen that?

JIRO

I noticed that he was thinner. His appearance was grim all along. At some point, he did seem very weak. You have to remember, we were no longer speaking at this point. There had been speech at that one time, when I brought the lawyer. Apart from that, we just stood and looked at each other. When he became very weak, he would just drag himself over to the bars and sit hunched against them, letting the bars press into his back as far as they would go.

INT.

And you couldn’t tell he was starving?

JIRO

You ask that now and it seems like a good question, a good clever question, but there’s no cleverness in situations like this. Could his spirit have been broken? Could his mind have broken? Could his nerves have broken? Could his body have broken? Any of these things could have been the case. All of these things were likely, even. So, it isn’t as clear as it sounds, not at all.

INT.

I didn’t mean to suggest …

JIRO

Just continue.

INT.

Did you notice a change in him once they began to feed him again?

JIRO

He got more energy. He began standing again. They tell me he was carried into the courtroom on the day of his trial, that he was propped up on the chair, and that a bailiff had to stand by and keep him in it or he would fall out.

INT.

I hadn’t heard that.

JIRO

But you know what I believe?

INT.

…

JIRO

I think that the hunger strike wasn’t real. I think it was another tool they used to try to break him, to try to get him to sign another confession, confessing more.

INT.

Because the first confession wasn’t enough …

JIRO

It wasn’t enough. They wanted more from him. Maybe they started to starve him and he turned it around. Maybe he said to himself, fine, then I won’t eat. Then I’ll just die. I think he saw it as a way out. Things had become so bad, and there was no door. Then they showed him this door of not-eating.

(A minute of silence, tape running.)

INT.

And there would be no way to know, to know which it was.

JIRO

No way, a hunger strike imposed by the guards on a prisoner who won’t break would look identical to a hunger strike staged by a prisoner as a protest. No one could tell the difference.

INT.

But in this case they didn’t want to starve him to death. They wanted to execute him.

JIRO

Right, so they had to make him eat.

Interview 11 (Watanabe Garo)

[Int. note. Through a very peculiar and wonderful action of chance, the landlady who rented me the property on which I conducted many of the interviews had a friend whose brother had worked in the prison where Oda Sotatsu sat on death row. Apparently the high profile of the case had led to this brother’s stories of Oda becoming common anecdotes that were told and retold in that family, eventually reaching the ears of the landlady to whom I came. When she learned what I was writing about, she put me in touch with the brother. I spoke to him several times on the telephone and once in person at a ramen house in Osaka. He was an extremely vain man in his sixties and he boasted at every conceivable opportunity. Even the ramen house we met at, it was a personal connection. He would get us some kind of special service, he said. In fact, they did not know him at all. It is my belief that this man did not personally know Oda Sotatsu at all, but rather that he relayed all manner of prison lore and anecdotes about Oda Sotatsu, casting them in the first person as though he were the one having had the experiences. As anyone familiar with oral histories will attest, this is quite a common occurrence. His narratives of the time are quite compelling, however. Whether that is because he actually knew Oda, actually was there, or whether it is due to him repeating the anecdotes countless times, I can’t say. However it may be, he was an invaluable source of otherwise unobtainable data about this time period and I am grateful that he consented to speak to me.]

[This first interview occurred via telephone. The house in which I lived (the leased property) had no telephone, so I made use of the telephone situated on the property immediately adjoining.]

INT.

Hello. Mr. Watanabe.

VOICE

One moment. Garo! One moment, please.

(Noise of the phone being put down.)

(Perhaps thirty seconds.)

(Noise of the phone being picked up.)

GARO

Mr. Ball.

INT.

Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. We are being recorded at this time.

GARO

I understand.

INT.

You were a prison guard at the L. Facility during the spring of 1978?

GARO

I was employed there from 1960 to 1985. Yes, you could say …

(Laughs.)

GARO

You could say I was there in 1978.

INT.

And you were a guard on what is called death row, with the most dangerous prisoners?

GARO

The ones on death row aren’t always the most dangerous; that’s what people often think, but it isn’t always true. Quite the opposite sometimes. Certain types of assault, certain types of fraud, in-house kidnapping, what is that called in English?

INT.

Home invasion.

GARO

Yes, home invasion, or rape and mutilation. These are all crimes that don’t get you too much time. But the guards know. We know which ones to watch out for.

INT.

You learn that?

GARO

I think you just know it. If you don’t, you don’t last long. So, it takes care of itself. In the long run, you get guards who know what they’re doing.

INT.

You met and dealt with Oda Sotatsu at that time? The man convicted of the Narito Disappearances?

GARO

Sure, I dealt with him. If walking back and forth, looking at him, talking to him, bringing him food, counts. I only spoke to him three times. Three times in the eight months he was there. And he liked me. He wouldn’t speak to anyone else.

INT.

Eight months? I was told he was on death row for only four months.

GARO

Not to my knowledge. Four months is awfully short, awfully short. Don’t think I’ve heard of that. Matter of fact, eight months is short for a capital case. Almost unheard of. We used to say someone must have wanted him dead for it to come so quick, his number to come up, I mean. Seems he skipped clear to the head of the line. Supposedly he had an enemy, some minister, didn’t like how things went, wanted an example, I can’t say. He was easy, though. Tell you that much. Made no trouble, not once.

(Something indecipherable.)

INT.

I’m sorry, I couldn’t make that out. What did you say?

GARO

I said he was so good they let a girl in his cell, right before the end. Not that he knew it was the end, mind you. Execution’s always unannounced. Never know. They drag ‘em off through a series of rooms, one after another. We called it visiting the Buddhas because there are different statues, one in each room.

INT.

I have questions about that, but first …

[Int. note. Here we lost the connection. It was a couple of weeks before I managed to speak to him again. That continuation will come shortly.]

Photograph of Jito Joo

[Int. note. Watanabe Garo gave me a photograph that he claims had been in Oda Sotatsu’s death row cell. When I later met with Jito Joo, she admitted having given it to him. This strengthens Watanabe’s claims of having known Oda; it is also possible he recovered it from another guard, or from the cell, without having known Oda. Further conjecture on the exact degree of his reliability is likely useless.]

Interview 12 (Brother)

[Int. note. This was somewhat later in the same conversation at the pavilion. Jiro and I had been drinking, and he had begun to tell me some stories from his and Sotatsu’s childhood.]

INT.

So your father refused to take you along on the fishing boat?

JIRO

He said it would be bad luck for me to come.

INT.

And why was that?

JIRO

He said it had to do with my birth date, that it was not an, what did he call it, not an auspicious day for a fisherman to be born. He wouldn’t even let me on the boat when it was out of the water.

INT.

But he would let Sotatsu?

JIRO

Yes, Sotatsu went with him on many occasions.

INT.

Did that divide the two of you? Did you feel that you were in some kind of competition for your father’s esteem?

JIRO

No, not at all. I have heard of families like that, certainly, but …

(Laughs.)

JIRO

… not in the least. If anything it was always Sotatsu and me together against the rest of them.

INT.

You two had a special trick you would do, right? At school?

JIRO

Yes, sometimes Sotatsu would throw a stone through the window of my classroom. Then the teacher would go off trying to find who had done it and the class would end early. I also did this for his class.

INT.

But how did you manage to not be in school at that time?

JIRO

I would be using the toilet. Or, I would say so.

INT.

And was he ever caught doing this?

JIRO

He wasn’t. I did get caught, though, several times. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I ever got away with it. The schoolteachers were always suspicious of me, I don’t know why.

INT.

Do your own children take after you in that respect?

JIRO

How do you mean?

INT.

Well, that one seems to be trying to run away with my hat.

JIRO

Yes, nothing is safe around here.

Interview 13 (Brother)

[Int. note. Shortly after that, I asked him about his father’s reaction when he discovered that Jiro was still visiting Sotatsu. He had told me earlier that his father had been angry, but he hadn’t gone into detail. Later, when I asked again, he was more forthcoming.]

INT.

How did it come about that your father learned you were visiting Sotatsu?

JIRO

There was a photograph, an unfortunate photograph that was published in the newspaper, a photograph of the prison. Some photographer had visited there to take photographs of various inmates, my brother included. He passed me at the prison entrance and noticed my resemblance to Sotatsu. I tried to avoid it, but he took my photograph and sold it to the newspaper. He sold a photograph of me visiting my brother for money, and that photograph was seen by my father. He demanded that I come to see him. I did so. He was furious. He said that a decision had been made and we would all stand by it. He said that some of us were trying to continue to live, to continue with our lives, and that I wasn’t making anything easier for anyone. I replied that, in fact, I was. I was making things easier for myself and for my brother, Sotatsu. I told him that I didn’t believe Sotatsu had done anything wrong. I said I didn’t like any of it from the beginning to the end. He said that I was still stupid, and had always been so. That whether Sotatsu had done something or not was not the point and never had been. He said that you had a chance with each life, each person’s life, that there was a chance to get along without drawing the wrong kind of attention to yourself. That if you did, it was never good, it always ended badly, and the facts of the matter were nothing, were no good. He said I had a liar’s respect for the truth, which is too much respect.

INT.

And that’s when he …

JIRO

He told me he didn’t want to see me again.

INT.

But he went back on that.

JIRO

He did. Later that same year he went back on it. But he was so changed then that it didn’t matter. He was a different person. As he is now. You can see, can’t you? There’s no satisfaction to be had from the person you met.

INT.

…

JIRO

Whether you will say so or not, you can see what a shell he is.

(Tape clicks off.)

Interview 14 (Watanabe Garo)

The First Time He Spoke with Oda Sotatsu

[Int. note. This was the interview at the ramen house, and it was the interview to which Garo brought the photograph I showed some pages back. He had the photograph in a manila envelope along with other things that he did not show me. I was very curious about what else was in the manila envelope, but if it was perhaps necessary for me to have won his trust further in order to have seen it, then in that case I failed to do what was necessary. I did not learn of the other contents. The photograph that he did give me, that of Jito Joo in a kimono, had writing on the back. The writing read, On a lake, they float, but they do not see the lake. They only see what’s above, and only in the day, and only when the sun is not too bright. I tried to discover the provenance of those lines but was unable to, until speaking to Jito Joo herself. For now, however, I was sitting opposite Watanabe Garo in the ramen house, my tape-device dwarfed by two enormous bowls of ramen.]

INT.

I am very curious, of course, to hear anything you might have to say about Oda Sotatsu, but most of all I’m curious to hear about the times when he spoke to you. Do you remember which was the first time?

GARO

Do you think I could forget a man like that?

INT.

So, he made a powerful impression, visually?

GARO

No, no, not at all. In fact, that was the thing that was most fascinating. When you were in a room with him it was like you were alone. He had the least presence of anyone I have ever met. It wasn’t just that he was quiet. Of course he was, that was his thing, no? But also, he simply appeared to be elsewhere.

INT.

And where do you think that was?

GARO

Some of the guys used to say they would wring it out of him. There were those who didn’t like him, I guess. We were divided along those lines. The newer guys didn’t like him. The older ones just valued behavior above everything.

INT.

So, the older ones liked him?

GARO

Yes, yes, we liked him.

INT.

And the first time you spoke to him, what circumstance was that under?

GARO

It was about a shogi set.

INT.

A shogi set?

GARO

Most of the prisoners awaiting execution, or appealing it while waiting, they get a shogi set.

INT.

So, they play with each other? Or with the guards?

GARO

They do not play. Not with each other, and not with the guards. They mostly just move the pieces around. Some of them like to act like they are playing games by themselves, but I don’t think they really do. I think they just move the pieces to pass the time.

INT.

But, presumably some of them do know the game and can play by themselves.

GARO

I think they know how to play. I just think it is useless to play by yourself. I have watched them doing it. It isn’t really a game, not like you would think.

INT.

So, you were bringing him a shogi set?

GARO

When he spoke? No. He had the set. He would always take the gold generals out of the set and hold them in his hand. I don’t know why. So, it became this question. Why did Oda Sotatsu hold on to the gold generals? A reporter was visiting and noticed. She noticed too that the pieces on the board were set up strangely. It became this thing — everyone was wondering, was this a clue? Was he finally revealing something about where the victims were?

INT.

So, the press was just allowed into the prison?

GARO

Rarely. Hardly ever. Really not much at all. This was an exception, I’d say. Anyway, so there was a bet. I don’t remember what we bet, maybe some portion of our salary or shift pick or something. It did matter, though. Oh, now I remember. It was vacation. The one who bet right would get a day of the others’ vacation. There was a lot of talk. But, Oda wouldn’t explain. He wouldn’t say why he was doing it. Different guards came up to him, asking him. They threatened him, they begged him. Nothing worked.

INT.

But you got him to explain it?

GARO

Well, I just noticed it by accident. He was using the board as a calendar. To do that, you only need thirty-six pieces, not forty. So, he would take the gold generals off the board. I don’t think he liked them being on the floor of the cell, so he would hold them. It was as simple as that. I noticed because I saw that he changed the board first thing when he would wake up. Nobody else knew what that meant, but eventually I did. So, I said to him, Prisoner Oda, you missed a day.

INT.

“You missed a day”?

GARO

That’s what I said, You missed a day.

INT.

And what did he say?

GARO

For a second he looked very carefully at the board. I think he was worried someone had moved it around while he was sleeping. Someone did do that once. He was checking to see that it was right. Then he said, No. I didn’t miss any days.

INT.

And that was it?

GARO

That was it. It got me two weeks off. That’s probably why I was so nice to him from then on. That and the fact that …

INT.

That what?

GARO

That it made me feel good he would talk to me and not to the others. I liked to pretend it was because I had secrets, about how to be a guard, but it wasn’t that.

INT.

Who can say?

Interview 15 (Brother’s Wife)

[Int. note. I spoke to Jiro’s wife one of the days when I was enjoying their hospitality. She was a very sharp and argumentative woman if she felt she was right, and we got along quite well. In the evening time, the family played various games, board games and games of other sorts, and she was merciless. I played her in go, a game at which I can claim little skill, and she defeated me with very little effort. She seemed to be glad that I was writing this book, and that I was meeting so often with Jiro. One morning while I was sitting out very early (I had been unable to sleep), she came out and sat by me and we spoke. I didn’t record the conversation, but I remember a good deal of what she said. I paraphrase below.]

She said that I should know, that Jiro wouldn’t say all of it, but that I should know that Jiro’s family has not ever been any good to him, not in the least. That even now all they want is for him to give them money. They don’t even want him to visit. She said that his sister is the worst of all, a petty intellectual. She said that one of the great sadnesses in her life is that she didn’t get to meet Sotatsu, as Jiro speaks so highly of him, and that she just knows, just knows that they would have been very close. When I asked if she had known about the Narito Disappearances and the whole business when she met Jiro, she said that she had. She said that there was no getting away from it. But, she said, it hadn’t made her think any one thing more than another. Maybe it would for some people, but not for her. I asked her if they often saw the rest of the Oda family. She said she discouraged it as much as she could, and that I could print that, if I wanted to.

Int. Note

[I went on a walk with Jiro on one of the days I visited there. He said there was a way to go that would be quite pleasant, especially on a day like that. I didn’t know what he meant. It seemed like any other day, but when we went outside, there was a sun-shower going on. He said he loved sunshowers more than any other weather. They were good luck, but some people said you shouldn’t go out in them. Do you go out in them? I asked. I always do, he said. Always. We went down off of his property and along a thin road. No cars came or went. He told me that you get the whole place to yourself, since everyone stays in. Which place? I asked him. Any place, he said, laughing. After a while, we passed a small wooded area with some broken-down buildings. They were a deep rust red, and there was old broken farm equipment here and there. Something that had been a barn was now leaning on itself, huddling in. The site was quite arresting. I said there was no good catalog of the human qualities of buildings or alleys. Jiro asked me what I meant. I said something like, there is a quality of firmness or importance, secret importance that one puts on small geographies and features of landscape, houses, yards, hidden spots beneath trees. To have a list of such places. That was my explanation, and it prompted him to tell me the following.]

JIRO

Is it on? All right. This is the memory. When we were boys there was an old gate at the end of a little road. We would go to it. Do you know what I mean? Do you remember boys go to things, to places where limits exist — to the end of things wherever they can be found, to the bottom of holes, to the sea, to walls, fences, gates, locked doors. Do you remember of all places, these are where boys feel their real work must be done? My parents had never taken us there. Matter of fact, we had never even seen anyone else on that road at all. When we stepped onto it, we felt we were gone away. Well, we would go there and look at this gate, just stare at it. We felt it was unclimbable, it was so rusty and sharp.

INT.

You went there often, you say?

JIRO

At this time, at this one particular age, we were always there. We’d sit some distance from it, and have muttered conferences, make plans. Or if I just ran off from the house, or Sotatsu did, the other one would know that that’s where to go. He’d go there and find the one who’d run off. I was always finding Sotatsu there, and he was always finding me there. We thought that gate wasn’t in use, that someone had closed it a hundred years before, and that no one even remembered it was there. But, one day we went there and it was open. It was half swung open and the way was clear. I was terrified. It is hard to explain how frightening it was to me. I didn’t even want to go near it, but Sotatsu pulled me along. I balked at the very edge and he continued on. When I saw that he was going to go through, I started crying and ran home. I didn’t look back, not once. He went in by himself.

INT.

Do you regret it?

JIRO

Somehow it happened that I never asked him what was in there. It seems like I would have, like such an important question couldn’t possibly have escaped me, but that is exactly how it happens. Children are constantly forsaking whole methods of thinking in favor of new ways, and with that they give up all the old questions. Of course, later they remember. What did Sotatsu see in there? I am so fond of him when I think of it, when I imagine him at that gate, disappearing from sight. It is something I never saw, but I wish I had.

Int. Note

I went to visit the prison that Oda Sotatsu was kept in. I was not allowed to go inside, but I took photographs from the car that I had rented, and I drove to various points in the countryside where there were vantages onto it. I would like to say it was a remarkable building, but it wasn’t much of anything. An ugly complex, not even particularly threatening. There was a small store about a half mile from the entrance where they sold soda, candy, newspapers, maps, etc. I asked the man what he thought about the prison. He said it kept him in business. Apparently people would buy things there to take to inmates when they visited. What’s the most popular thing? I inquired. He held up some peculiar candy that I had never tried. I bought some of it.

I knew, of course, that it wouldn’t be the same thing people had been bringing in when Oda Sotatsu was there. I knew that. But when you are dealing with something as odd as this, you sometimes get a sense for how to behave. I felt like buying that candy changed my relationship to the prison. The remaining photographs I took were a little different. Later I asked someone, a photographer friend I knew, I asked her to look at the photographs I had taken. Of the lot of them, she separated out the six I had taken after going to the convenience store.

These ones, she said, these are much better than the others.

Interview 16 (Brother)

[Int. note. On this day I had decided to be bold and ask Jiro about why he hadn’t tried harder to convince Sotatsu to recant. However, my opportunity for such a question did not arise.]

INT.

Your brother had been in the prison then for a few weeks when you finally saw him?

JIRO

That’s true. The guards were confused. At first they took me to the wrong prisoner. It was an old man. He came to the edge of his cell and peered at me. I think he was trying to remember who I was. Probably no one had visited him in years.

INT.

How long did you stand there?

JIRO

Not long. I said, Good luck, old-timer. He called me some name that I don’t remember. His voice was very shrill. The guard was looking at the paper he had been given. Suddenly he figured it out. He apologized and took me to the right place. It sounds very comedic, I know, but in a place like that, I don’t think the guards would do such a thing on purpose. I believe it was a mistake.

INT.

But then he did take you to Sotatsu?

JIRO

Yes, and my brother was actually in another ward entirely. Not even the same building. In his special building all prisoners were in single cells. They couldn’t see one another. They ate alone. Even the exercise, which was walking around in a concrete atrium — even that was alone.

INT.

How large would you say the cells were?

JIRO

Perhaps seventeen square meters.

INT.

And you were the first visitor he had had in weeks?

JIRO

I believe he had another visitor. I was told that. I think the girl was still seeing him. She was going during the trial, and the guard mentioned her to me. He said, your sister has been coming. Of course, I knew that wasn’t true. She did every single thing my father told her, everything he ever said, no matter how small, she did that thing exactly. There was no chance that she was visiting Sotatsu against my father’s wishes. That’s when I remembered that I had seen Jito Joo at the police station, and I connected her with a girl mentioned in a news report during the trial, a girl visiting Sotatsu.

INT.

Have you ever spoken to her about it, since that time?

JIRO

Never.

INT.

To get back to this first moment, the guard took you to Sotatsu’s cell. Did Sotatsu get up when he saw you?

JIRO

He was asleep. The guard had handed me off to a different guard. In fact, that process had happened three times. This deepest guard, he woke Sotatsu up by banging on the door. He opened the door and stood in it, banging it. Sotatsu opened his eyes. I could see from where I stood, he opened his eyes but didn’t move aside from that. Here was a guard banging a stick and shouting his name and he just calmly lies there.

INT.

Did you say anything?

JIRO

He sat up after a minute. When he saw me, his expression didn’t change, but he came over. The guard had shut the door by then, but there was a window that slid open and we could see through it, we could still see each other. I was always trying not to blink. I would stare and stare at him and then eventually I would blink, but he never would. I stood there with him until it got dark, maybe two hours. The guard told me five times, six times, I had to go, but I had a feeling I was getting all I would get of him, that I wouldn’t see him again, so I didn’t want to go. I put all of myself into just watching and stood there looking at him as powerfully as I could. Eventually, I had to go. And as it turned out, I was wrong. I did get to see him again. But, I was glad I stayed as long as I could that day.

INT.

So, you left the prison when it was getting dark?

JIRO

Yes.

INT.

And you said the bus didn’t stop there? You had to walk to the bus station?

JIRO

It was a two-hour walk to the bus station from the prison. Then, the bus didn’t run at night, so I slept in the bus shelter, leaning on the bench and an aluminum fence, and caught the bus the next morning back in time for the second shift.

INT.

That mustn’t have been so easy for you.

JIRO

It was hard, having what happened happen to him at all, but then, having him in a place that was so difficult to reach? That’s why I only went to see him maybe eight times. Maybe if I had had a car it would have been easier. I could do it, though, sleeping at the bus stop, walking for hours, I could do it because I could hardly feel anything. If it was like that for me, I was always thinking, what was it like for my brother?

Interview 17 (Brother and Mother)

[One day, I managed to convince Jiro to come with me to speak to his mother one final time. I had tried repeatedly to get access to her again, but she would not meet me. Jiro said that he thought he could convince her, but that if his father found out, it would never come to pass. He was as good as his word, and we met her in a park. There was a little wood and two benches sitting across from each other. I put the microphone by her and Jiro. I sat on the other bench. Some of my questions turned out to be inaudible, so I have reconstructed or omitted them. The words spoken by Jiro and Mrs. Oda were entirely clear.]

INT.

I wanted to speak to you a little more, because I know that there are so many things you know that no one else does. Your knowledge of Sotatsu is something very valuable, I think, and I would appreciate it very much if you would share some more of it with me.

MRS. ODA

(nods to herself)

JIRO

We were speaking of the time that Sotatsu got a medal at school. Do you remember that?

MRS. ODA

(makes a shushing sound)

JIRO

Of course you remember that. I was trying to recall what the medal was for, but I couldn’t. Do you remember?

MRS. ODA

Geometry. A geometry medal.

INT.

Was there some kind of competition that he won?

JIRO

Yes, I think there was. I think he won a geometry competition and they gave him a medal. He was very proud of it. As a matter of fact, I believe he kept it his whole life.

MRS. ODA

That’s nonsense. It wasn’t a competition. It was a thing he had to do, to get up in front of the school and present at a visit by the mayor. The teacher had him do it because she thought he would do the best job of it, but he didn’t. He actually misdrew the shape and labeled the lines wrong. The teacher gave him the medal anyway, since it had already been made.

JIRO

He always told me …

MRS. ODA

The teacher was very embarrassed. I believe he left the school partway through the year and they had to find a new teacher.

JIRO

Oh, now I remember — and that was because …

MRS. ODA

Because your brother embarrassed us.

JIRO

I didn’t know that.

INT.

But he was ordinarily very good at math, then? That was why the teacher had selected him?

MRS. ODA

I don’t think so. I don’t think he was good at math.

JIRO

Come now. He was good at math. You know that.

MRS. ODA

I don’t know much of anything. Your father and I went to the auditorium. You were there too. So was your sister. We sat there and someone from each class went up to show the mayor what they were learning. Sotatsu was wearing new clothes that we had bought just for that. We didn’t have very much money. Hardly any. But we did this, because we wanted to show people that we were as good as anybody. He was up there in line with the others. We sat in the audience. Practically the whole town was there. Then the mayor came in, and he went up to the stage, and he shook hands. They brought out the young students to do this and that, and they did it. Then someone showed a science project. Then someone showed something about photography, an older child. Then it was Sotatsu’s turn. He was trying to show something, I don’t know, something about a triangle. He drew it wrong. Everyone froze up. Sotatsu kept trying to explain it. I don’t know actually if he did draw it wrong, or if he wrote the wrong numbers, but they didn’t match up. He kept pointing to the drawing on the chalkboard. Meanwhile the mayor was just looking away. He wouldn’t look at Sotatsu. Your father and I, we …

INT.

Mrs. Oda …

[Jiro’s mother got up then and walked away, saying something under her breath to Jiro that I couldn’t make out. That was the last I saw of her.]

Interview 18 (Watanabe Garo)

[Int. note. This is from a later portion of the in-person interview. It was difficult to keep Garo on subject, so much of the interview was worthless, or I should say it alternated between being invaluable and being worthless. Some subjects will not disclose information unless they feel they are in a conversation. These individuals ask questions of the questioner, beg for particulars and follow ultimately useless lines of inquiry. Such was Garo. I am therefore skipping the tedious discussion of my own life (with his interminable quizzing), as it has no bearing here. I skip to a point at which we are discussing discipline at the prison.]

INT.

But there were beatings?

GARO

I’m not saying there were beatings, not as such. I’m saying if someone ended up deserving a beating, it would be a rare thing for him not to end up, one way or another, getting the thing he deserved. Do you see it? It isn’t about one person deciding to discipline someone, a guard or anybody else, it isn’t about that person choosing something. It isn’t about the way in which such a thing is gone about. It’s an inevitable thing, a person behaves again and again in a way that is a kind of communication. It is someone saying, I don’t learn the usual way. Try something else with me. And eventually someone else tries something else. Talking about context, it isn’t even the right way. I mean, maybe if you mean, maybe if you are talking about the difference between being above water or below.

INT.

You are talking about a guard beating someone with a stick?

GARO

Yes, but it isn’t beating, it is communication. It isn’t an action, not in and of itself. It’s a constant pressure, the effect of a constant pressure. It is a result, not a thing. It can’t be looked at by itself, separated out.

INT.

Did Sotatsu get beaten that way?

GARO

I don’t believe he was ever beaten. Nothing physical, or not much, was ever done to him. He went along with things, mostly. He wasn’t any trouble. And he wasn’t there for long. Also, there is a feeling around some — that they are doomed. When that feeling comes, the guards tend to have as little as possible to do with that person. Most of them.

INT.

But some don’t?

GARO

Well, there was one guard.

INT.

What did he do?

GARO

He would lean up against the window of Sotatsu’s cell and he would talk. He would stand there talking to him for hours.

INT.

What was he saying?

GARO

Nobody knew at first, but it came out after a while. It was maybe a week of this guy having shifts with Oda and talking to him. Then a supervisor found out and moved the guy on.

INT.

But what was he saying?

GARO

Well, I went to Sotatsu’s cell one of those days after the guy had been talking to him for quite a while. Sotatsu is sitting there on the bed, holding his shogi pieces, staring at his feet. He looks up and sees me. Something made me open the door and come in. I said, What’s the problem? He looked at me for a little while and I stood there. Then he says, Is it true what Mori says, the way the hanging goes? Is it really like that? That’s how I found out.

INT.

All that time he was whispering to him about the execution?

GARO

He was, and what’s worse, he was just making up hideous things. Horrible things. He said they brought the family and made them all watch. He said they hanged you naked so they wouldn’t have to bury the clothes. I don’t know half of what he said, but it was awful. Sometimes that happens to a man in that environment. You can start doing things like that. Mori, I guess, he wasn’t suited for the work.

INT.

So what did you tell Oda?

GARO

I described the hanging to him. We’re not supposed to do it. Sometimes it’ll spook the prisoners, make them harder to deal with. We’re not supposed to, but I figured, what Mori began, I had to finish. So, I explained it to him.

INT.

Can you describe it now?

GARO

Well, this was a long time ago. I don’t know how it’s done currently. I wouldn’t want to talk about that.

INT.

Can you just say again what you said to Oda about those hangings, the way it used to be done? It doesn’t have to mean anything about what goes on now.

GARO

I think so, I think I can.

Interview 19 (Brother)

[Int. note. I had to return to the city briefly, and Jiro had also returned for a meeting. So, we met at a train station, before going back to his house. At the station, we had to move around to find a spot that was sufficiently quiet for the recorder. We began several times, and had to stop and move. I got into an argument with a drunk man who kept interrupting us, and this made Jiro laugh. It was in good spirits, therefore, that we began this interview.]

INT.

You were talking about that last visit, about how they took your things away? The tape is recording now.

JIRO

I tried to bring him a little music box I had found. It was stupid, the music box, not the idea. I think it was a good idea, to bring it, only it didn’t work out. They took it away.

INT.

What did the music box play?

JIRO

Well, it sounds really stupid, but you have to know — Sotatsu loved Miles Davis, especially this one record, Cookin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet.

INT.

But surely there’s no music box that plays Miles Davis …

JIRO

Well, maybe there is now. I don’t know about that. Then there wasn’t, not really. But this one, it was a little box with a mirror inside and when you opened it, it played “My Funny Valentine,” which is from that record. It was very expensive, this music box. It cost me almost a week’s salary. But, I thought, if it can cheer Sotatsu up just a little, then …

INT.

You tried to bring it into the prison, even though you knew such things weren’t usually allowed?

JIRO

I did.

INT.

And they took it away. What did they do with it?

JIRO

I imagine some guard gave it to somebody as a present. I never saw it again.

INT.

And you got into trouble over it, too.

JIRO

They took me into a room and some guy yelled at me for about half an hour. I was very apologetic. Usually, back then, I was, well, hot-tempered. I had a short temper. But, in this case, I just wanted to make sure I could get in to see him. I had taken the bus; I had walked very far. I was there at the prison. If they had made me go home, it would have been pretty bad.

INT.

But they let you in?

JIRO

They did, and it was very lucky that they did. Because that was the last time I saw him.

INT.

Can you describe that visit?

JIRO

Well, they walked me in the same way as before, as on all the other visits. I had to sign in, had to be fingerprinted. They would sometimes check the fingerprints against the others they had made of my hands. Once, the guard made a mistake and he got the wrong fingerprints out, so they thought I was some kind of impostor. But that got solved. It was the same boss guard who fixed that situation, and who yelled at me but let me go in anyway this last time. I guess he must have felt bad about the first mix-up. He didn’t seem like a bad guy.

[Int. note. Here, Jiro’s daughter ran up. She asked if we were working on the book. I didn’t know that the children knew what it was we were doing. I assume that Jiro’s wife must have told them. I said that we were doing some work, maybe it would go in the book. She said that she hoped it would do what it was supposed to do, in the end. I asked her what that was. She looked at her father and said that what it was supposed to do was to make a whole bunch of people feel really bad about what happened. She said they didn’t feel bad enough and now it has been a long time and they have forgotten, and that it should make them remember about how they should be still feeling bad. I said that, sure, that was part of it. Jiro laughed, a sort of half-hollow, half-full laugh. He told her to run along and she did.]

INT.

So, then you were brought to the cell?

JIRO

Yes. It was a strange thing to visit him in jail. You get the impression that you are returning to the same moment. I’m not sure how to say it. It’s as though you went away and time continued, but for the person there, it stopped. For them it has only been a moment since you left. He was there, in the same clothes, in the same position. The same light came from the bulbs. The same pallet was laid there in the same way. I had an eerie feeling about it. At the same time, I was overwhelmed, each time I saw him, with a feeling of relief, that he was still there, that nothing more had been done to him. I approached the door, the window was slid open. Sotatsu looked over, saw me, and came to the door. He had a very odd way at that time, a very odd way of holding his mouth. I think it was because he had stopped talking. Maybe if people didn’t use their mouths for talking anymore, this is the way they would all hold their mouths.

INT.

Was it open?

JIRO

A little bit open, on one side. I don’t remember which.

INT.

And you stood there, looking at him, the routine you two had developed?

JIRO

We did. But only for a short time. Then the guard came and asked me to leave. He didn’t give a reason. I think someone else was coming in, but I don’t know why. It seemed like they were clearing me away, clearing out the area. Maybe they had just gotten the news that his day was coming, and so they wanted everything straightened out. I don’t know.

INT.

That was the last time you saw him.

JIRO

I remember the haircut he had, it had been done badly, so a part of his head wasn’t completely shaved. When I see him in my head, that’s the Sotatsu I see. But he is standing in a street.

INT.

When you picture him, you picture him in a prison outfit, with his head shaved, but he is outdoors?

JIRO

He is in a street, and he has the box I was going to give him. But it isn’t open, it isn’t playing. It’s just closed there in his hand.

Interview 20 (Brother)

[Int. note. That night, after our return, I had gone to my room to sleep, but I was still up, looking at some notes I had taken. After a while, there came a tapping on my door. I opened it, and it was Jiro. He came in and admitted that he had not told me the truth that day, or not all of it. I asked him what it was that he had held back. He told me that on the final visit, something different had happened. I asked him what it was that was different, and why he had held it back. He said it was something he hadn’t shared with anyone, and so it wasn’t clear to him whether he would share it with me or not, up until this evening. I asked him how that visit, that last visit, how it had gone differently. He said Sotatsu had given him two letters that he had written. He said he had those, and asked if I wanted to see them. I said, yes. I said, I didn’t realize that he was allowed to write things. Jiro said that it seemed some of the prisoners were allowed that, and it seemed Sotatsu was one of them. He gave me a paper box with a little clasp on one side. I told him I would be very careful looking at them. He went to the door but stood watching me. I asked him if he wanted these documents to be kept out of the book. He didn’t say anything, but stood there. Finally he said he wanted the book to be complete. He didn’t want anything left out of it. That is why he changed his mind and brought the letters. I thanked him and he went off, leaving me to open the box.]

[The document (sides one and two) will follow this page.]

Document Side One: Holograph Will

Holograph Will of Oda Sotatsu. My belongings described below should be given to my family members in the following manner.

BOOKS, perhaps a dozen, on table by window __ to my sister.

my CLOTHING, old pants, new pants, shirts, socks, and others __ burned.

my FURNITURE __ given away.

my KITCHEN contents, pots, knife, etc. _ to my mother.

my RECORDS, RECORD PLAYER, _ to my brother.

my DRAWINGS, JOURNAL __ burned.

my WORM SHOVEL, FISHING POLE, TACKLE __ to my father.

my BICYCLE __ to my brother.

my SCARF __ to my sister.

my BIRD STATUES _ to my mother.

ANYTHING ELSE _ burn or give away.

… my rent was paid when I was taken away, but now hasn’t been since then. I don’t know what that means for anything.

Document Side Two: Letter to Father

[Int. Note. The document has been folded and unfolded many times. It appears that it has even begun to tear along some of the folds. I imagine Jiro has opened it often to read it. When I saw him the next day, the day I was to leave his house, I returned the letters to him, and asked whether he had showed this to their father. He replied that he had not. He had never had the slightest intention of doing so, nor would he. At the time of the publication of this book, Jiro and Sotatsu’s father is dead (d. 2006), so he will never see the letter in this life.]

Father,

I know why you don’t come to see me. You are right that this is my fault. It is a complicated thing, but also very simple. It is so simple I can see through it like a glass window. When I do that, I see you and the others and you are waiting for something. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t think you know either. Someone writes something because someone thinks it should be written, it should be said. So, I write this, but I don’t know why it should be, just that something should be said, before this is through.

Where the house met the back gate, I used to hide things. You never knew that. Mother, Jiro, no one ever knew it. There is a hollow spot there, and I would put a thing there now and then. This is the kind of feeling I have now. I wanted you to know that I am not worrying anymore. I am not worrying now.

OS

Interview 21 (Watanabe Garo)

[Int. note. Watanabe Garo was extremely reluctant to disclose the details of the execution procedure. I argued with him for a long time, playing on his vanity, his ego, trying to get him to say the exact words he shared with Oda. Finally, only with a cash payment and guaranteed anonymity did he disclose the details.]

INT.

All right, we’re recording.

GARO

He was sitting there and looking at me and I was standing. I felt pity for him then. It seemed like he was affected, like what Mori said to him had changed him somehow, and I didn’t want him to have to change. He hadn’t been affected by things before. I wanted to let him be who he had been during his time in the prison. It was a good way for him, and I didn’t want this whispering to have altered him. It shouldn’t have happened, and I thought, maybe I could fix it. Maybe I could talk to him and fix it, and things would go back to being the way that they were.

INT.

Was there something you could see in the way he looked, something different?

GARO

I can just say what I said.

INT.

Please.

GARO

I said to him, I said, you don’t know when it’ll be. That much is true. The prisoner can’t ever know the day of his execution. One day it is the day and that’s that. They bring you a snack, some kind of special snack. Something nice. Then they take you out of your cell. They take you to a hall and you notice it is a hall where you haven’t been before. At first maybe you think you are being exercised, or being taken to the infirmary. But, no, it is perfectly clear, this is a different section. It is a hall that is rarely used and it feels that way. You go down the hall and there are little windows and there are no bars, no bars on the windows. Outside you can see a lawn. Then you come to a door. The guard doesn’t have a key. The door just opens. Someone stands behind the door all the time waiting and when someone comes, when the time is right, he opens the door. You go through it. Now you’re in a semi-open space. There is a desk with a guard-sergeant. He has a lamp and a book. He checks your papers against the book. You do not have your papers. In fact, you’ve never seen them. But the guard who came with you has them. A doctor comes out, along with three other guards, ones you have seen before, ones who have dealt with you in the past. You are examined and the doctor and guards sign off. They are making a written statement that you are in fact you, that it is no one else but you standing there at that moment. You sign the document as well, agreeing that you are yourself. When it is done, the sergeant unlocks a door on the far side of the area. He does this once the others have left. It is a procedure. It is all a procedure. They leave; he unlocks the door; you go through. Your two guards have been exchanged for two others. They go in with you, one on each side. You are now in the first of three rooms. The execution suite is composed of three rooms. The first is a chapel. A Buddha statue is on the altar. A priest is waiting. You may have seen him before, on his visits to these very cells. He speaks to you warmly. He might be the only one to meet your eyes. He asks you to sit. There by the altar he reads to you and what he reads you are the last rites. Now you know for sure. Even if you have been pretending that it isn’t so, now it is suddenly clear. Although you have told yourself some irrational story, that on the day of your execution some event of some kind will occur, and that from this event you will know it is the day of your execution, nonetheless, such an event is an invention. The guards do not wear different uniforms. You are not offered a cigarette. You do not go outside to be taken elsewhere in a covered van. Whatever event you have imagined, it is empty and meaningless. You are read the last rites, and that experience is fleeting. So soon it is over. So quickly you are raised onto your two legs. A door in the farther side of the room opens. You go through. The next room is smaller. Someone is waiting there, too. It is the warden. He is dressed very beautifully and appears distinguished, like a general. He waits until you are positioned properly. He waits. When you are standing where you should, he reaches into his pocket. He takes out of his pocket a piece of paper. What is he going to say? Even the guards are restless in this far room. What he reads is this: he is ordering the execution. He uses your name several times, pronouncing it with wonderful care, and it is like you have never heard your name before. You are to be killed by the order of someone or something. He leaves the room and the door locks. Another guard has come in. He has a bag and out of the bag he produces handcuffs. These are placed on your wrists and firmly tightened. Next he produces a blindfold. The guards move around you as if you are delicate. They are performing a series of operations on an object. You are secured. Your arms are secured. Your head is secured. The blindfold is applied to your head and face. Now you can no longer see. The guards guide you now. You go through a door which must have opened soundlessly, the door beyond the warden and the second Buddha statue. You realize you have looked at the last thing you may ever see. If you are wild, if you have become wild, if you become wild, it no longer matters because you have been secured. But most are not wild. Most are led into the room without complaint. Even with animals, covering the eyes produces docility. The bag the guard brought was full of docility and you feel it. The guards have been gentle with you; they are guiding you. You are positioned in the final room, the last room. You feel the space of it around you. The guards touch your shoulders and your head. They lay something over your head, down over the blindfold. They are so gentle with you, like barbers. It is a rope they have laid upon your neck. The rope is laid like a stiff collar on a new dress shirt, and made snug. Everyone is around you, very close. Then, delicately, they remove their hands from you, from off your shoulders, your neck, your arms. They step away. Now it is quiet. You can feel the rope’s upward direction. Occasionally it brushes against the back of your head. Perhaps you can guess where you entered the room. You are doing things like that, guessing with senses that are not operating. A noise comes, a trapdoor has been released and you fall through the floor as if it were not a floor, not the floor of a room such as you have known, but the floor of a room like a gallows. That is the last room, a room like a gallows tree.

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