Here's part 6of a fascinating first-hand account of being jailed in Japan, by "George," a 36-year-old American living in Japan with his wife and two young children. George wrote the journal while spending a few weeks in a Japanese Ryuchijyo ("Prison for people that haven't yet been convicted of any crime"). In Part 1, George explained what he did to land in prison (basically, he behaved like a drunk, violent jerk and hurt a cab driver).
In Part 2, he describes going to the police station the day after the incident to apologize and pay restitution. But after he is grilled for hours on end, it dawns on him that he's not going to get off as easily as he thought.
In Part 3, George describes the experience of the "classic good-cop, bad-cop routine," as two detectives work on him to confess. Part 4 covers George's day at the prosecutor's office in the Tokyo Metropolitan Courts. George describes the daily routine in Part 5.
Here in Part 6, George writes about his relationship with the prison guards.
The guards were all very nice guys. There was one who I took an immediate disliking to early on but we patched up our relationship and from then he was a friend. He was the one I called Fatman. He was of course fat. He was also very big and obviously very powerfully built, almost my height but a good 30kgs heavier. Our first interaction came on the 3rd or 4th day. I had been through a rough day down in Kasumigaseki and it was time for our wash at the basins and to get ready for bed. I needed a good wash as my hair and skin were greasy and I was getting acne on my chin. As I usually did at that stage, I would soap my face, neck and as much of my hair as I could without it being too obvious. This time I did it more than usual and I had a quick "Oi ju-yon ban! Dame dayo!" shouted at me from right behind. I turned and saw this new fat oaf of a guard peering at me through his thick circular glasses. I immediately detested this guy as most of the other guards had given me (and others) some room to wash liberally and I had not seen this jerky before. The other guards in fact stepped in and muttered under their breath to Fatman to let me away with it, saying that I was only washing my face, which clearly I wasn't. I lost it somewhat and muttered under my breath "yeah, yeah laugh it up fat fuck", which was pretty immature of me but I assumed he couldn't understand. When I returned to my cell, Hakamada told me to calm down and that Fatman was actually a really good guy. Pffft. Whatever, I thought. He reassured me that he was.
