Tokyo: I'm really not a killer

In the detention center's visiting room, Hideaki Shiraishi sat hunched over in an iron chair, his wrists handcuffed with heavy metal.

The bruises from being repeatedly interrogated and beaten a few days ago are still throbbing, and he is on the verge of a mental breakdown.

His already messy hair now looked like a clump of withered grass, his eyes were sunken, his cheeks were thin, and he exuded a strong sense of despair.

The door opened, and a middle-aged man in a sharp suit walked in.

He had his hair slicked back, carried a briefcase, and wore a professional, gentle smile.

This is Masato Sato, the public defender appointed by the court.

"Mr. Shiraishi, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm your defense attorney, Masato Sato."

The lawyer sat down opposite him, his briefcase making a slight rustling sound on the table. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze sweeping over the bruises on Shiraishi Hideaki's wrists and the haggard look on his face.

Hideaki Shiraishi raised his head, opened his mouth, his throat was dry, and he could only make a hoarse "ah" sound.

"I've already got a preliminary understanding of the situation." Attorney Sato cut straight to the point without much small talk. "The Metropolitan Police Department has charged you with the attempted assassination of Nagashima Ichiro, the head of the Yamamoto Group, and the subsequent attempted assassination of Representative Shinomiya Seiichi. Based on the evidence they've submitted and your testimony, the situation is very unfavorable for you."

Upon hearing the word "confession," Hideaki Shiraishi shuddered violently, instinctively shrinking his neck as his wounds throbbed with pain.

His lips trembled: "I...I didn't...they forced me...I don't know anything..."

Attorney Sato raised his hand to signal him to be quiet: "Hideaki-kun, I understand your situation. Under immense pressure to solve cases, the Metropolitan Police Department sometimes resorts to rather drastic measures. I regret what happened to you."

He then changed the subject, saying, "But that's how legal procedures work. They now have your signed and fingerprinted statement. Although there are many ambiguities and contradictions in the details, it carries significant weight as evidence in court."

"In addition, your mysterious movements before and after the incident, your presence in the vicinity of the scene, and your past underworld background all constitute a fairly complete chain of evidence."

Hideaki Shiraishi's heart sank to the bottom. He remembered what Sugiyama Yuta's older brother had said in the hospital, the cold face of the swamp man, and the darkness and stench of the sewers...

"Will they...will they sentence me to death?"

Hideaki Shiraishi's voice was choked with sobs, almost squeezed out from between his teeth.

He felt a chill run down his spine as images of death row inmates he had seen in the newspaper flashed through his mind.

Attorney Sato didn't answer directly, but simply sighed softly, leaned forward slightly, and lowered his voice:

"Hideaki-kun, this is the main reason I've come to see you today. Based on the current evidence, there's a very high chance the prosecution will convict you of murder. If you are convicted, the consequences will be unimaginable."

He looked at Hideaki Shiraishi's face, which had turned deathly pale, and then subtly changed the subject again:

"However, things are not entirely hopeless. The prosecutors are eager to give their superiors an explanation and close this nationally sensational case as soon as possible. This is our chance."

"Opportunity?" Hideaki Shiraishi repeated blankly, as if grasping at a straw.

"Yes, an opportunity."

Attorney Sato's voice carried a seductive, persuasive quality. "I'm referring to a 'judicial transaction.' It's a legal process, simply put, where the defendant and the prosecutor reach an agreement before the formal trial in court."

"You agree to admit to some of the lesser charges, or to provide some valuable leads, in exchange for significant concessions from the prosecutor on sentencing, such as reducing the murder charge to assault, illegal possession of a weapon, or even accomplice."

A glimmer of light seemed to appear in Hideaki Shiraishi's cloudy eyes, but it was quickly covered by a deeper fear:

"Admit it? I... what am I supposed to admit? I didn't assassinate anyone! Swamp Man... Swamp Man is the one..."

"Shh—" Attorney Sato immediately raised his index finger, glanced warily at the doorway, and lowered his voice even further, "The Swamp Man? That's urban legend; the Metropolitan Police Department won't believe it. What's important is evidence and procedure!"

"Shumei-kun, you must understand that continuing to resist will not do you any good. The court will not believe someone who recants after being repeatedly interrogated, especially given your criminal record. They will think you are just making excuses and stalling for time."

He observed Hideaki Shiraishi's reaction and continued, "A plea bargain is the only way you can possibly survive right now."

"As long as you show a cooperative attitude, admit some marginal responsibility, such as you were indeed near the scene when the crime occurred and may have unintentionally provided some convenience to the real killer, or admit that you lied because you were afraid of retaliation from the underworld."

"This way, the prosecution will have a way out. They can announce to the public that they have arrested a key accomplice and made a major breakthrough in the case. As for you, as an accomplice or a coerced offender, your sentence will be greatly shortened, and if you behave well, you may have a chance to be released in a few years."

"Really... Do I still have a chance to get out...?" Hideaki Shiraishi murmured to himself.

He thought of his mother, Yuko Goto's, worried face, and of the dilapidated apartment.

As long as I can get out alive...

"But," Hideaki Shiraishi said with a hint of struggle, "if...if I confess, won't they think I'm lying and give me a harsher sentence?"

"This is where the value of my work lies, Hideaki-kun."

Attorney Sato gave a reassuring smile, but his eyes remained calm.

"I will engage in professional negotiations with the prosecutor to ensure that the terms of the agreement are in your best interest and are legally binding."

"I will help you keep your confession within the lightest and most ambiguous range, emphasizing the elements of coercion and lack of knowledge. Remember, our goal is to avoid the death penalty and strive for the shortest possible sentence. This requires your complete trust and cooperation."

He leaned back in his chair, resuming his businesslike tone: "Of course, this requires you to sign a detailed plea agreement. I will draft it for you, but only if you are determined to go down this path. This is your last chance. Think it over carefully; time is running out, and the prosecution will be formally indicting you soon."

After finishing his speech, Attorney Sato said nothing more and simply looked at Hideaki Shiraishi quietly.

Only Hideaki Shiraishi's heavy, disordered breathing could be heard in the meeting room.

He was caught in a mental struggle: the pain of the police baton, the cold gaze of the swamp man, his mother's face, the glimmer of light described by his lawyer...

Finally, he raised his head, his voice hoarse and weak:

"I...I'll do as you say, lawyer. I...I agree to the deal."

"A wise choice, Hideaki-kun." Attorney Sato stood up, straightening his suit. "I will prepare the documents as soon as possible. Remember, from now on, remain silent. Apart from communicating with me, do not speak to anyone else about the details of the case."

The lawyer left, leaving Hideaki Shiraishi slumped alone in the cold iron chair.

He felt like a fish thrown onto a chopping board, having just signed a contract to be slaughtered.