The Lawyer

Its late, 11pm maybe. I had been through hours of interrogation at the police station, I was arrested just after midday. My period pain had started to really take hold. I feel so numb but still with heightened senses. I’ll get used to this feeling. Its the feeling of dread, and its hard to describe. Its as though your mind is in a frenzy, like you can feel chemicals increasing throughout your body. Your heartbeat is strong and deafening. In the silence that you’re in, is so loud. I’m so focused and in-tune with the sound of my own heartbeat, it appears I am docile. I’m sweating but without sweat. It feels like my hair is standing on end and my eyes are bulging out of my head. But to look at me, I just look tired.

I am a piece of meat that is being exchanged from one party to another. The police hand over custody of the slab to the facility, Wan Gan. A bunch of woman take ownership. They all look the same, with the same hair cut, a short bob or a neat pony tail, the same uniform, the same expression and the same mannerisms. No one has a name, they are all named Tanto-san.

I am taken into a small room with four tantos. The head tanto was a small older woman who looked like she was in her late 60s. She wore wire glasses on front part of her nose. She automatically introduces herself as the head tanto and that this was her place. Everyone is treated with respect, if I understand this I will get along fine, she explains. Now please take off your clothes.

Two of the tantos place a thin tatami mat on the floor, one tanto is positioned kneeling on the floor with big industrial paper rubbish bags. Clothing bags myself explains to myself. I’m told to take my shoes off before stepping onto the mat. I am brain dead, and follow simple instructions easily. I take of layer after layer. I explain that I have my period. The tanto in charge of patting down my naked body is kind and apologises before touching my skin. I don’t feel a thing. She acknowledges what I’ve said, and tells me I can get sanitary products soon. Every part of my body is inspected. Every part meticulously checked over. I’m asked to cough with my legs spread apart. I don’t feel a thing. I don’t feel a thing. I’m handed a light blue pair of underpants. A number is written on them, the number 4-875.

4, 8, 7, 5

Yon, hachi, nana, go

Four, eight hundred, Seven-ty-five

Yon, happiyaku, nana-ju-go

I will remember these numbers forever. I am given a pair of grey track pants, a grey t-shirt and a grey sweater. Do I want socks? Yes. They give me two light blue socks. They’re like the white socks you wear as a part of your school uniform. They’re ribbed. They’re too small for my feet and just go over my ankles, they should go to my calves.

“Now sit down on this bench and please read through these rules carefully.”

She speaks to me with authority and in an automated manner. She’s done this speech thousands of times before I’m sure. She hands me a folder with plastic slips, the kind I used in high school for presentations. My mind constantly goes back to my past, in comparison, to try and process whats happening. This is like that time back then. That object reminds me of that thing. I guess it was me just trying to get through the situation.

The file is filled with the rules, in Japanese, Chinese, Korean, and English. The English section is the lightest. I tell myself to read through this carefully, but nothing is sinking in. She hands me a menu with items that I can purchase. I purchase two pairs of socks, two pairs of underwear, a face towel, soap, toothbrush and paste, and sanitary pads.

She carefully goes through each of my possessions and itemises each one. Taking care to handle each of the items carefully. I confirm all the items are mine, and I sign them over. She takes out an ink pad and asks me to press fingerprints the openings of two small envelopes. They will hold my valuables; money in one, phones and others in the other. She explains that I am a guest here at Wan Gan for the next ten days. After which my fate will be determined by a prosecutor. He will decided whether there will be grounds for a criminal case. She explains that the guards at Wan Gan do not know about my case. They are here to keep order and ensure all the girls who stay here are safe. She tells me that I will be fine and that I should listen carefully and follow the rules. And just like that the three other tanto-sans are standing by the door in an orderly stands and I am told to stand up to go to my cell.

I follow the fast-paced guards, as they weave through the floor plan. I try to look around to see where I am but I focus on the guard in front of me. She takes me to a futon storage room. I’m told to pick up my futon. A heavy old futon, two brown heavy army blankets, the kind with satin borders, a small pillow and light blue bedding; a cushion cover, and a futon cover. My arms are out in front of me carrying the heavy pile of bedding. We arrive at the cell, where I am told to take my slippers off and slide them under the cell. My slippers are plastic and have my number written on them. I’m told to place the futon down. There is a slither of space closes to the bars, just outside the cell door. I do so. The guard gives me the sanitary pad and tells me to go to the toilet. I look blankly at her its as though my vision has been reduced to only what is in front of me. I don’t see an overview, I just look at the guard. She gestures again for me to move.

I look up and see four women sleeping on the floor on futons, taking up the whole space. This was a cell. The guard tells me to go to the toilet again, its at end of this rectangular room, and she tells me again to go put the sanitary pad on. I hug the side wall walking past the sleeping women, hoping I don’t disturb them, wondering if any of these women were dangerous, and how I would do in this room. My mind still erratic jumping from thought to thought trying to process all of this. This foreign environment I was thrusted into. It felt as though I was thrusted into it, with the last 6 hours melting into my history. Still being so recent, but also so distant. My mind was broken, I couldn’t really make sense of anything, thinking one way of it and then another. Maybe this is shock. I was a liquid mess.

I sit on the steel toilet. It stinks, but looks somewhat clean. It is Japan. There’s a paper bag, the size of a lunch bag you see in American sitcoms. The kind that kids in school take with their packed lunch. A sandwich, a fruit box, a red apple. The bag has the number 4 written with thick black marker on it, and is filled with toilet paper and sanitary pads.

The cubical has a door with a glass panel as entrance. The bottom section is wooden to offer little privacy, but the door itself doesn’t go to the floor or the ceiling. The right side there’s a glass window which faces the front of the cell, where the guards will often stare to make sure nothing happens in the bathroom that shouldn’t be. On the left is a steel facade that lines a faucet and small wall sink. Above it is the flush button. Should I flush? The women are sleeping, despite a bright fluorescent light lighting the toilet and sink area at this back end of the cell. This light will later give me headaches and start a series of events that would end with a frightening fight.

I flush the toilet, water spurts out of the side wall sink nozzle.

Side-wall-sink-nozzle.

I open the toilet door to the room washing sink. It's a big steel box, with a steel back wall that the faucet comes out from, above it is a sensor strip. Again I notice touches of Japan appearing through this dark scene. This may be prison, but it is still Japan, land of the sensor toilets. I wave my hand over the sensor and water comes out, I rinse my hands in the cold water and splash my face. There’s a mirror above the steal front. I look into the mirror. My face is puffy and my eyes look dead. I stared at myself but don’t see a thing. I robotically walk back to my spot on the floor. I’m wedged between the last woman sleeping and the cell bars. I sit on my futon. One of the guards comes back about 30 minutes later and says my lawyer is here. She gestures for me to get up quickly. I stand at the front cell door, the guard quietly gestures for me to pull my slippers out from beneath the cell, I do so, and step into them. She closes and locks the cell and tells me to follow.

I will never forget the sound of the cell door closing shut and being locked. Now as I remember these hard moments it takes over my thoughts. I hate the sound, but my memories are so strong with it, unable to let it go. The weight of the heavy door being slowly pulled into position with a clang to indicate its in position. The metal slide bar being scrapped across the metal door. You can hear the weight of it. The loud clang of connection. You know the clang is coming but it always shocks you. The padlock being threaded through the holes to connect the pieces together. Trapped. I am trapped and there is no way out.

Its now that I take in the facility, as we walk from the cell to the visitor room. The flours are orange linoleum, the walls white. It looks more like a hospital than a jail. More like an asylum. There are so many corridors we turn down a few, but I look at all the other corridors we don’t walk down. This place is very big. It is the 5th floor, women only. Orange floors white walls, white doors opening into private cells. I imagine crazy women in straight jackets in padded rooms screaming out. I’m scared, but I am still in such a daze still I don’t stay on the terrifying images flashing in my mind. The doors have small square windows, that have shutters covering the windows. They clank shut as well. We stop at a door suddenly, or maybe I just hadn’t noticed the guards slowly decreasing their speed as we approached.

My hands are placed on the wall and my legs are spread apart. The guard uses her hands to pat my body for any objects. Its invasive and excessive. It does its intended purpose, it makes me feel like a criminal. Like a piece of dirt. And I know who is charge, the guards control every aspect of life here. She nods that I am cleared. Explains that when I am finished with the lawyer I should knock on the door. She will open the door up then. The doors is pulled open, I peer inside the room.

I see a small room separated with a perspex panel from the bench all the way to the ceiling completely separating the two rooms. On my side there are two bucket chairs. In the perspex there are two circles with holes that have been cut through to allow for the two parties to speak and hear clearly. On the other side of the panel were two men sitting. A Japanese man on the left and a foreign or gaijin on the right. The Japanese man looked a bit rushed, it was nearly midnight. He had a bowl-type hair cut, and was at a guess in his 40s. The translator had white hair and what looked to be a lazy or glass eye. When speaking to me one eye was normal, with the right eye slightly positioned downwards.

Konnichiwa.

Konnichiwa.

My name is Sakashita.

He shows me his card by placing it up to the perspex. The translator explains accordingly. He asks me if I can pay for a lawyer, and if I know of any lawyers. I say that I can't afford a lawyer and that I don't know any. He explains that I will be given a court appointed attorney, and asks if I would like this. I say yes, and I ask if he will be my lawyer. He explains that it is by allocation, usually it is the first attorney that is called out, but he isn't sure. I ask him if he would mind being my lawyer. He said that he wouldn’t mind. But he cannot be sure if he will get this case. He tries to explain the legal system of court appointed lawyers. But then just says yes he will be my lawyer.

Did you do it?

Yes.

It was a definitive yes. Out of his leather briefcase shoulder bag, he takes a wad of A4 paper clipped together. It looks like recycled paper being repurposed as a notepad. He starts to make notes. He has a copy of the arrest report, and takes out a law book, to look up the crimes in his log. He looks up the first;

Attempted fraud, 2 months minimum, maximum 10 years.

He looks up the second;

Utterance of fraud securities; 3 months minimum, maximum 10 years.

My mind is vacant. I try to imagine what I might be given. Surely I wouldn't be given the maximum, but maybe somewhere in the middle, two charges though, so does that mean that will be 10 years of my life. 10 years. 10 YEARS. Like giant box letters on fire. The words ten years are burning bright, they sear into my brain. Ten years.

Ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten ten.

I would be 46. I start making lists in my mind, of all the things I will now miss out on

I guess I won't have children

Will I see my mum again

I guess I will die alone

10 years in prison in Japan

I stop at 10 years in Japan. I’m scared to imagine what it would be like. With the rhythm of my heart feverishly beating ,two thoughts drum continually.

What. Have. I. Done?

I. Thought. I. Was. A. Good. Person.