The Japanese have one of the lowest crime rates in the developed world. But 99 per cent of all people accused of breaking laws there are found guilty. If you are innocent but accused of a crime, unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, there are few safeguards to protect you.
Sachio Kawabata and his wife Junko live on the southern island of Kyushu. Their lives were turned upside down early one morning when police came to question Kawabata.
They were accusing him — falsely — of buying votes to help secure the election of his wife’s cousin, a local politician. They took him in for questioning and subjected him to extraordinary pressure trying to make him confess. A court later acquitted all those police had connected to the crime. The detective lifted up Kawabata’s legs and made him stamp on sheets of paper that had his loved ones’ names on. He made him do it 10 times. In Japanese culture this is very insulting.
Earlier this year a local court acquitted all who had been charged in connection with the supposed vote buying scandal. It found that their confessions had been made up. The judge said those who appeared before him had made their confessions in despair while going through marathon questioning.
Eichi Tamiya, a retired detective, says in Japan confession is regarded by police as “the king of evidence”. It is useful when a crime depends on a subjective feeling.
“For example, when one kills a person,” he says, “only a confession can tell us whether the suspect was just trying to injure the victim who died, or whether he intended to kill them.” So if the police think you have committed a crime they do all they can to make you confess. In Japan it can be difficult to resist police demands for you to tell them what they want to hear.
Yasuo Shionoya, a defence lawyer, says even if he suspects his client has been forced to make a false confession there is little he can do unless he can find something in the statement that cannot possibly be right. The system of long detention before trial for questioning is known in Japanese as “daiyo kangoku” — substitute prison. Amnesty International, which is headed by Makoto Teranaka in Japan, wants to see the system reformed.
In two years’ time an important change will allow people a greater say in the justice system. Ordinary people will join the judges on the bench as lay judges to hear the most serious cases.
Six of them will sit with three professional judges to try each case. They will also, unlike juries in Britain, be able to help determine the sentence if the accused is found guilty of a crime.
Robert Prect is an American lawyer who is advising the Japanese on how to implement the new system. He believes it will make a difference.
Sachio Kawabata is now campaigning for further changes in the law, in particular the introduction of electronic recording of police interviews. He has sued the police successfully for the way that he was treated, but he says he will not rest until more widespread improvements are made to the criminal justice system.
“I can’t forgive and I can’t forget,” he says. “I will never forget the sound of the spring on the door when it opened and closed when they locked me in the interrogation room. I can still hear the sound in my ears. I can never forgive them.”
BBC News