Nocturne of Remembrance

by Shichiri Nakayama

“Is there something about those words that makes you feel uneasy?” asked Misaki.

  “No, not really but …”

  “Repudiating tolerance might lead to the retributive principle … Is that what you have misgivings about?”

  Yokoyama was mum, but he was bad at hiding things. It was written on his face that he did.

  Misaki continued, “I don’t mean to use it like an indulgence, but the retributive principle is the current drift. I can’t change this no matter how much flag-waving I do.”

  To that, Yokoyama nodded his head slightly.

  Ever since the introduction of the lay-judge (quasi-jury) system in Japan, without fail the verdicts on criminal cases had gone down the road toward tougher sentences. It was very interesting, even from Misaki’s standpoint, that the effect of a system meant to reflect the sensibilities of the common people in the legal arena had become a driving force for the retributive principle.

  Even as the good citizens hesitated to vote for the death penalty in a quasi-jury trial, were they beginning to show a certain amount of understanding for severe sentences that law experts proposed? Or was the spate of violent crimes that had shaken the nation awakening an old desire to make of an offender an example to others?

  Whichever it was, in public opinion surveys conducted recently, too, over 80 percent favored the continuation of the death penalty, higher than in the past. It was one sign that tougher penalties were in line with public opinion. As long as prosecutors didn’t overdo it, their motto of severity, the “harsh frost and blistering sun” that their badges signified, wasn’t about to come under criticism.

  “For example, even in the killing the other day of the husband in Setagaya, the court handed out a sentence of sixteen years imprisonment just as we requested. For the sentence to be just as we requested means that the court thought that even harsher punishment would have been appropriate. The defense appealed the verdict on the same day, so for better or for worse the High Court could judge otherwise.”

  As if just remembering, Yokoyama said, “By the way, now that you mention it. Did you know that the defense lawyer on that case has been replaced?”

  “Replaced?”

  “Yes, the previous lawyer who had handled the case resigned right after the appeal was processed.”

  Misaki had just received a report on the case. The defense attorney, a man called Horai, had seemed particularly seedy and grasping according to the prosecutor in charge, not to mention unaccustomed to criminal cases, and only the length of the sentence had been fought over. The defense’s perfunctory attitude was also vividly apparent in the court record. And that was the one point where Misaki had sympathized with the accused, Akiko Tsuda.

  “The previous defense attorney is reputed to be an unsavory person,” noted Yokoyama. “Among those that know him, he is known as one of those nouveau riche lawyers.”

  “Ah. You mean that he specializes in debt consolidation?” No wonder he was rumored to be self-serving. For sure, he wasn’t in it for the clients’ sake, but rather for the money. “For us, an opponent with a handicap like that is easier to beat.”

  “He probably took into account the economic background of the accused, because from the start he didn’t appear to be defending her enthusiastically.”

  Regarding that, however, Misaki thought that perhaps she got what she deserved. Akiko Tsuda was a woman who had run out of patience with a husband who couldn’t earn a living; she had wanted a new life with another man. There were plenty of stories like that in the streets, but she had chosen to murder her husband.

  Seeing the victim’s lack of gainful employment as some legitimate fault on his part wasn’t right. Misaki believed that couples were couples so that they could face difficulties together. Thus, a wife who had eliminated her husband for her own wellbeing was naturally to be condemned. And he thought that her ending up with such an incompetent counsel, too, was heavenly disposition.

  “Yes. But …”

  “But what?”

  “The lawyer taking over the case is Reiji Mikoshiba.”

  Misaki reflexively shot back, “Huh? Isn’t he still in the hospital?”

  “He just got discharged the other day. And the new attorney registration was dated yesterday.”

  “Really? First off, that guy only takes on wealthy clients. There isn’t any such person in the accused’s family.”

  “His intention is hard to fathom …”

  Misaki went back to his desk and crossed his hands in front of his head.

  For that guy, of all people, to stick his nose into this case … To begin with, Misaki hadn’t expected him to return to work so quickly.

  One could say that Mikoshiba was Misaki’s nemesis. They had first met a few years ago when Misaki was on his first case at a district prosecutor’s office, the result of which was a crushing defeat for him. The prosecution had sought fifteen years imprisonment, but the sentence had been reduced to three years with probation.

  The probability of conviction in Japanese courts reached 99.9 percent. A guilty verdict was still considered to be a conviction even if it was with probation. In that sense, even though it didn’t become a contested case, for the prosecution it was equivalent to a last-minute loss of a game that it had in the bag until then.

  Fortunately for Misaki, the blame was not put entirely on him because he had taken over the case from the original prosecutor, who’d been transferred to another post. But, more than anything, it was an indelible blemish in his own mind.

  Close to a quarter of a century had passed since his appointment as a public prosecutor, and it was the first time that he’d been thrashed so thoroughly. Although there hadn’t been another chance to confront Mikoshiba, Misaki had never forgotten his name or face. Pointed ears and coldhearted lips. Even the moment when he heard the verdict, the guy looked impassive. In his head, though, he must have ridiculed and looked down on Misaki.

  And now Mikoshiba stood athwart him once again. Misaki may not have been handling the case in person, but it was the same thing since the Tokyo District Office did.

  He couldn’t very well sit idle, the large number of cases he had to supervise be damned. Pulling out the file of the Akiko Tsuda case from his drawer, he began to re-examine it for any flaws in the prosecution’s claims.

  “Prosecutor Misaki, excuse me, sir?”

  “I’m taking on this case.”

  “You, the deputy chief?”

  Yokoyama didn’t hide his surprise. The clerk was right. A Tokyo District Deputy Chief Prosecutor rarely took any cases in the public court. And as this was an exception, the Chief Prosecutor’s approval would be necessary.

  For Misaki, however, it was a different story if the defending attorney was Mikoshiba. When you lost to a certain opponent, fear of him set in. Going forward, Misaki’s role was to exhort other prosecutors, and it would not do if he, himself, eschewed a particular foe.

  Above all, it was the taint of that defeat that was so vexing. The voice that had read out the final verdict sometimes revived in his mind, and each time he got a heavy feeling in his stomach. To dispel that discomfort, there was no choice but to prevail in a rematch with Mikoshiba.

  “For the near term, don’t let anyone come into my room unless it’s urgent,” he ordered Yokoyama.

  Still, it was incomprehensible. No matter how much Misaki thought about it, he had absolutely no clue as to why Mikoshiba might defend the case.

  What in hell was that guy up to?

  — 3 —

  The waiting room at the Tokyo Detention Center. Mikoshiba saw his number displayed on the electronic bulletin board, and was led to Meeting Room No. 3.

  Its sight was enough to make an ordinary person nervous, but Mikoshiba was more relaxed there than if he was in some hotel lounge. As he sat down in front of the transparent acrylic panel, he thought about how he’d visited so many times that sometimes it didn’t even seem to exist to him.

  Only the few millimeters of acrylic plate sepa
rated the ordinary person from the sinner. What a vulnerable borderline—was it some allegory that in reality there wasn’t much distance between sinners and ordinary people?

  Soon the woman he was there to see appeared.

  “Sorry that I made you wait. I am Akiko Tsuda.”

  His first impression of her was that of an extremely common housewife. Her looks were average, and she was a little on the short side, with no luster in her voice. Her actual age was supposed to be thirty-five, but perhaps due to her time in detention she looked ten years older.

  “I am Reiji Mikoshiba.”

  “Ah. Thank you for taking over my case from Horai-sensei. I was really surprised when I heard that he resigned suddenly, but you would take over …”

  “All lawyers have their respective fields of specialty. Defending criminal cases is too much for him.”

  “But, um … they say a defense lawyer’s fee is high. We aren’t wealthy …”

  Mikoshiba replied without much interest, “Whatever you want to pay is fine. In any case, my standard fee is not anything that your family can afford to pay. Therefore, what you want to pay is fine. Of course, you have to pay something, but I can defend you far better than a court-appointed attorney.”

  Akiko asked, “And why is that? Why would you become my lawyer under such conditions?”

  “A selfish woman kills her husband. The public is all over it. In any world, heroes and heels are popular in the living room. In most instances, by the time the media are on it the heel is behind bars, so it’s the attorney who basks in the spotlight. They’ll come flocking with their microphones and cameras without any invitation.”

  “… Just to get your name out there?”

  “Frankly speaking, that’s correct. However, that has nothing to do with you. You need excellent counsel, and I need high cost-performance advertising. Our interests match. What else would you want?”

  After thinking for a while, Akiko nodded faintly in acknowledgment. Good for her. The woman had no other choice.

  “However, I have one condition,” Mikoshiba said.

  “And what would that be?”

  “It’s okay to be secretive and lie to the detectives or the prosecutor. As the accused, you have the right not to testify against yourself. But I want you to tell the truth to me. All of it, leaving no stone unturned. I can’t defend you if you don’t. Until you leave this detention center, Ms. Tsuda, I am your only friend in the world. You have to go so far as to think so. How about it—can you keep this promise?”

  Akiko bowed shallowly to this, too.

  “Good. Well, this ends my self-introduction. Without any further delay, let’s get to the real issue at hand. First, I want to confirm the facts. On May 5th you murdered your husband, Shingo. He was in the bath, and you stabbed him in the back of the neck with a retractable-blade box cutter. Is this correct?”

  Akiko nodded without saying anything. Mikoshiba thought she might assert her innocence, but he was mistaken.

  “Why did you kill him?”

  “He was a useless man. For three years after he was laid off from his company, he didn’t work. He just closed himself off in his room and did nothing in his role as husband and father. And I became enamored with a man named Yoshiwaki at the office where I worked part-time …”

  “So Shingo became an obstacle for you. Your dream was to leave your husband and marry that other guy.”

  “Yes, that is correct. But my husband would never let me do that. When he learned that I was dating Mr. Yoshiwaki, he severely abused and hit me. And I just flew into a rage.”

  “You just, huh …” Mikoshiba purposely trailed off.

  It was an attempt to trigger some refutation from her, but Akiko Tsuda simply waited for him to continue talking and didn’t try to revise his take at all.

  According to her, it was an impulsive act. The prosecution had jabbed at this first. They argued that it was a deliberate crime rather than one of impulse.

  “So, essentially you are saying that you did not prepare a murder weapon in advance, but that the intent to kill sprung up at that moment.”

  “Yes, just like that.”

  But the murder scene having been a bathroom had worked against Akiko. Invading, knife in hand, a space where the victim would be completely defenseless pointed to premeditation. No matter how strenuously she argued that it was impulsive, a story that lacked rationality could not win in court.

  Moreover, her action after the crime had given a bad impression to the jurors. After she confirmed that he was dead, Akiko retrieved a blue tarp from the shed and put the corpse on it.

  “When you put the corpse on that tarp, did you intend to take it somewhere?”

  “Yes, somewhere, because I thought I couldn’t leave it in the house like that … Then his father showed up.”

  By chance, the victim’s father, who lived in the neighborhood, visited the house and discovered his son’s dead body and a bloodstained Akiko. He proceeded to call the police.

  “Who else lived with you?”

  “Our two daughters. The older one is Miyuki and the younger one is Rinko.”

  “Let’s back up. You wanted to separate from your husband and start a new life. What were you planning to do with your two daughters?”

  “I felt bad, but I was planning to leave them there. I thought that if I had children from a previous marriage, Mr. Yoshiwaki absolutely wouldn’t want me.”

  Mikoshiba wanted to let out a big sigh, but he was right in front of the client. It might sound good to say that she was incapable of lying, but the woman seemed to have no clue how others would react to her words, either. No wonder the jurors had received the blackest impression.

  “So you accept the prosecutor’s closing statement.”

  “Not all of it. It wasn’t planned.”

  But that was in the subjective realm. In court, you faced a judge, a jury, and a seasoned prosecutor accustomed to dealing with criminals—not a psychiatrist. Going on and on about a subjective point would only worsen her impression.

  In any case, the greatest difficulty of this case was that she affirmed the facts of the murder. A comeback was out of the question. From what he had heard so far, getting the decision reversed was nearly impossible.

  “You have admitted to the murder. And the motive is not something for which allowances can be made. What do you want, as a client?”

  “Please get the sentence lightened,” she blurted out loud and clear. “Please get me out of here as quickly as possible.”

  Understandably, Mikoshiba was a bit appalled. Even though she admitted to killing a human being, she abhorred being subjected to punishment. He had seen a great number of haughty, selfish clients, but someone who was so openly self-centered was rare.

  “Don’t you have any desire to atone for the crime?”

  “I do, but more than that I am worried about my daughters.”

  “Hunh?”

  “I can’t leave those children alone for over ten years.”

  “Hey. Didn’t you just say that you were planning to leave them behind?”

  “That was if my husband was still alive. With me as the breadwinner in the family gone, even he would have had to raise those two. But now that he’s dead, I’m the only person who can raise them properly.”

  What she was saying was inconsistent. It was illogical. To begin with, her reasoning revolved purely around herself. Even if she shed large tears in the defendant’s seat, she would not get a fragment of sympathy from the jurors.

  “Do you understand how difficult this will be?”

  “Of course I do. That is why I am asking you to defend me. Rather than a public attorney.”

  Mikoshiba tried to observe Akiko once again. She certainly couldn’t hide the wear and tear that came from age, but even allowing for that, she was hardly in the attractive category. Her voice had a coarse timber, and the tips of her fingernails, which didn’t seem to see much care, were filthy. Just the back of her hands hinted a
t how rough and red they were. Pulled back into a bun, her hair was full of dandruff. She didn’t appear to have any qualms about the selfishness of her request, and probably didn’t think it was selfish to begin with. Only, it was hard to reconcile her words with a woman who was unremarkable no matter how you looked at her.

  The world had no shortage of people who forgot who they were: women with middling incomes who bought up all the brand-name goods in sight and declared bankruptcy; men with nominal driving experience who coveted Ferraris and committed crimes to get their hands on one; middle-aged men with no standout features other than their gray hair and pot bellies dreaming of marrying beauties; junior-high girls, no doubt visitors from a world without mirrors, who believed they could appear together with famous stars and signed up with talent agencies. Meetings of victims of mass swindling schemes were rife with such types.

  Yet Akiko didn’t seem like one of those people. It was hard to say just how she differed, but having met many such fools, Mikoshiba didn’t think she was merely clueless about herself. Those people didn’t know how high they really stood, but at least Akiko seemed to be seeing her real image.

  In a corner of his head, the term “psychiatric examination” arose. Recently, the more incompetent lawyers always wanted to do one, and Mikoshiba had ignored the idea at first. But perhaps in this case it might be an effective measure.

  “We might just have you take various exams.”

  He said this to dig a bit more, but there was no response from Akiko. He took this to mean that he had her approval.

  “I’ll come again.”

  The objective was to get her sentence reduced. The way to do that was to line up circumstances that would incur sympathy for the defendant.

  With those gauges set, the next thing to do was to act. Mikoshiba bid a hasty farewell and left the visitation room.

  *

  Once a lawyer resigned from a case, he no longer had any relationship whatsoever to a former client. Accordingly, Deputy Chief Prosecutor Misaki meeting with the accused’s previous attorney posed no problem. If there was any, it was that Misaki personally disliked the man.

  Given their respective positions, the interests of prosecutors and lawyers were usually at odds. That was only in court, however, and once they took one step outside, they were inhabitants of the same legal world. Misaki disliked Horai solely because of the latter’s personal qualities.