OneJet's Experience

Quick summary: I'm a first-year JET in a big city. I was arrested on a false charge of shoplifting and put in jail for six days. I was advised/ordered to sign a confession, which I eventually did; then I was released. Though they knew the truth (I am innocent) the Board of Education fired me, for reasons no one knows, but it's likely that it was to save face in one way or another. The situation mishandled from the beginning by the store, the police, and the City Education Center (who technically employs me, not the schools or BOE). There's nothing short of spending long months in court to get my job back, and it's not worth it to me. But I want everyone to know what happened.

Nov. 23--I was shopping in a department store the other JETs and I refer to as "K-Mart"--the place has pretty much everything, and it's cheap. Set up the same way, too, with different departments running into each other, plus there are three or four floors connected by escalators. I was carrying around four items from different parts of the store--slippers, water purifier, shirt, scarf. I didn't grab a cart when I came in; I never do, plus I wasn't planning on buying that much. I was carrying everything, water purifier under my arm, everything else in my hands. I was up on the third floor, away from the carts, and it was getting awkward, holding everything. I had a couple bags with me, one of which was clear, so I put the stuff in there to hold til I got to the register. I chose the clear bag precisely because I didn't want to appear suspicious, and I dumped the stuff in there in plain view of everyone. A few minutes later when I was down near the front door, checking out the sale clothing rack before heading to a register to pay, a security lady grabbed my arm and fired away in Japanese. She pulled me to the back of the store, still speaking Japanese even though I told her I couldn't understand. Again, I never left the store.

She brought me to the back security room and took the things out of my bag. She obviously thought I was trying to shoplift. I tried to tell her that was NOT the case, I wanted to buy the things; I showed her my wallet and money but she would have none of that. Eventually the police showed up, still no one spoke English, and despite the fact that I told them I was new to Japan and couldn't speak Japanese, they continued to talk to me and ask me questions.

They put me in a police car and we headed to the station, where I was led through the station itself, out the back and through an outdoor passageway to a dimly lit, freezing room that resembled a garage. I was alone with eight or ten male officers. They smoked heavily and spoke in torrents of Japanese. One repeatedly raised his voice and always pointed his finger at me while he talked. I was more than a little scared, not to mention angry and completely helpless.

There was one cop, an older guy with what you might call "smiling eyes," who spoke some English and tried to talk to me. He listened to my side of the story and told me that in that store, you aren't allowed to pay for things from departments altogether (unlike K-Mart), plus I had the things in my bag. I explained my reasoning, and pointed out that I hadn't even left the store. He told me the security guard had said that she caught me out in the street, then later she said I was "in the doorway." It seems strange that she changed her mind.

Someone handed me another cell phone and another Japanese-English voice barked at me, "WHY YOU STEALING!" I explained again my side of the story. He interrupted me constantly, ending with, "I KNOW YOU THINK JAPANESE ARE STUPID!" I handed the phone back in disgust. I was still alone with the chain-smoking men who were obviously talking about as if I weren't there, laughing hard then looking down at me as I sat there. One made some kind of gesture towards his chest, and everyone laughed except the nice cop, who just looked at me with a small, embarrassed smile.

A couple hours later I was still there, unable to gauge anything about what was going to happen. I didn't know if we were waiting for something, or if they believed me, or really if they even understood me. They took me back into the station, this time to a tiny room with a table and two chairs. There was a woman officer to sit with me then, as a "female overseer" I guess, and I suspect she should've been with me the whole time. I went through the same story again and again, trying to find out when I could go home, trying to call someone to tell them where I was, but anything I asked for, the answer was no. It became apparent that they weren't even sure what to do with me, and the nice cop came in and made conversation with me--about his uncle in San Francisco, baseball, how I like my job. He told me a translator was coming.

Two hours later, the translator arrived, and the questions began. A cop sat across from me with a computer to take down my responses. I wasn't sure if I had to answer, but I did because I didn't want to prolong this any further. The questioning was ridiculous and long. Among the questions asked were: Do you study martial arts? What is your monthly salary? Apartment rent? Have you ever been awarded a medal by the Prime Minister or Emperor? Do you like to gamble? Do you like to drink? What kind of drinks do you like? What's your blood type? I was ready for the next question to be "Do you like sushi?" When I commented to the translator (whose English was far from great) that the questions seemed irrelevant and unprofessional, he ignored me. When I pressed him about it, he said that his job was only to tell me what the police man was saying to me. I told him I thought this was extremely unprofessional and he ignored me.

They also took my statement about what happened at the store. At times the translator and cop would talk for a long time after I explained something, then there would be another completely random question. I also noticed that if spoke for thirty seconds in English, the translation lasted about ten in Japanese. Again, I wasn't sure even how well the man understood me. I was certainly not able to speak "normal" English with him--I had to speak slowly and use simple words (a skill you pick up quick here, I think).

Eventually we'd come to an impasse about whether or not I had actually shoplifted. I felt I couldn't spell it out any more clearly. I asked the translator if he understood and believed me. He looked uncomfortable. Then I asked if the police man believed me, and he said, "He thinks you are making an excuse."

After that the female guard searched me and the officers went through all my personal belongings. They emptied my purse and coat pockets, went through my wallet. They reminded me of my overly-curious junior high students. I had to explain every single card in my wallet, answer questions about how ATMs work in America, how one gets a driver's license, and when they found an old CTA token, the other people in the office crowded around as I explained the Chicago transit system. I had some packs of Japanese study cards and English flashcards for students, and they took the rubber bands off and counted them, reading each one and sometimes debating the correctness of the Japanese phrases. They were also impressed by the rocks in my coat pocket from Mt. Fuji and Kamakura. I had quite an audience by the time I finished the show-and-tell. Then they told me I was arrested and would be taken to jail so the case could be investigated.

They put me in handcuffs and tied a rope around my waist. I was going to the police headquarters in (big city nearby), where there's a women's detention area. It was 2 am and I hadn't eaten, though I couldn't have anyway due to nerves. I'd been at the police station for nine hours.

When we arrived at the detention center, we went through the same routine of going through and listing all my possession with the guards, even though there was already a detailed listing from the Kawasaki cops. As the Yokohama folks counted my flashcards (328 in all), even the police from my city were rolling their eyes.

After I was handed over, some women took me into a room to change clothes and search me. I stood naked for awhile before they gave me a yukata/robe. When they noticed my bellybutton piercing, they tried to tell me to take it out, but it's not that easy. We had to go back to the translator so I could tell them that it's not like an earring; you need pliers and a professional to take it out. That threw them, because prisoners aren't allowed to have jewelry, and the idea of making an exception doesn't really seem to be part of the Japanese society. Regulations must be followed mindlessly because...they're regulations. One guy actually went to look for pliers to rip the ring out of my navel. I told the translator that it had to be done by a professional, otherwise there would be a serious infection. The prison people consulted each other and finally decided to let it be. I was trying to be strong through all this, keep the tears away and not show my fear. But at that point, everything was so surreal and unbelievable, I just lost it.

They led me to a cell with two women in it, sleeping on the floor: my new home. Didn't sleep well that night.

The next day was Sunday, and a man from the American Embassy came down to see me. It was such a relief to see an American, and speak to someone who understood what I was saying. He told me straight out that once you're arrested, it's very hard to fight the charges. There are all kinds of waiting periods between visits to the prosecutor (they can hold you up to 23 days for pretty much any reason they come up with, and bail is the exception rather than the rule here in Japan). The prosecutor then decides if you're indicted, and if you are, then you have to wait for the trial, etc., and in the meantime you're sitting in prison. The whole process could take up to five months, and then I would have to serve a sentence if I were found guilty (99% of people brought to trial in Japan are found guilty). He told me the fastest way to get out was to plead guilty, and that I might consider that. He said in most cases you stay in jail for a few weeks and the prosecutor doesn't send you to court; you are simply released. At that point, that was the brightest option. I could make a false confession and hope that all I'd have to do was get out of Japan. There was no way I could handle being in a jail cell for months with nothing to do but lose my mind. It wasn't an option.

I also got a visit from my supervisor (we don't work directly for the BOE or schools, but for the Education Center). The head of the Education Center had issued an order, and my supervisor showed it to me through the glass: It said that JET, CLAIR, and the superintendent had been made aware of my situation. I was ordered to hire a lawyer and plead guilty to the charges. There would be "bad press" if I went to court, and I was to settle out of court in any way possible. The paper said nothing about telling the truth or fighting for what was right. It said to plead guilty. I could tell then and I know now that it wasn't my supervisor's decision--in the heirarchy, he's very low and has little power.

I went to the prosecutor the next day and told him I'd tried to shoplift, and that I was very sorry, that this was my first time doing such a thing and that I felt awful and would never think of doing it again. It was harder than I thought to make up a good story and stick with it. All of this was through a Filipina translator whose native language was neither English nor Japanese, and who both the prosecutor and I had a hard time understanding as she spoke to us respectively. The prosecutor ordered me detained for ten days. I would see him again and he would decide if I was indicted or not.

The police from my city came back to question me again a few days later. It was absolutely ridiculous. They were much nicer to me this time, and the interpreter they brought was an absolutely amazing Japanese woman. We were in there for two hours as they took my statement about being guilty and sorry, though the actual business only took about 45 minutes. The rest of the time they were going off on tangents about where to go in Japan over winter break--there's a great ostrich park in Okinawa--and how to say certain things in Japanese or English. At one point one of the guys opened his bag and brought out a huge sack of tangerines, and we all sat around eating them. I had to regretfully tell them, no, I can't bring any back to the jail cell with me, it's not allowed, and they told me to keep our little snack a secret. They said they'd talked to the prosecutor and he would release me within the next week--everything would be okay.

The prosecutor called for me two days later and I managed to convince him that I'd never "steal" again. My supervisors picked me up and over dinner they told me the superintendent was intent on firing me but that she would take a week or two and talk it over with the Board of Education. During that time I was not allowed to visit classes. I wrote a long letter describing my situation to the BOE, and my supervisor translated it and handed to HIS supervisor, who handed it someone else, who gave it to the BOE.

I understood that the Board was concerned about its image, but I believe that the truth should be told (ironic how lying got me out of jail--the truth certainly didn't set me free this time). It's not complicated--it was a bad situation and I did what I had to do. I hoped that they would look past the surface of things and consider me for what I am--a well-liked teacher who does her job well--but I see that this is not a system or society designed to accommodate exceptions. The BOE decided that I was no longer allowed to be in the classroom. They didn't technically fire me, but forced me to quit. Either way, it shouldn't have happened.

I wrote this because even though I can't get my job and life back, I think it's crucial for people to know what happened, and that the system can really screw you here; I aroused suspicions unconsciously, and once the police were called, it was like jumping into a wild river--the current was going to carry me to an inevitable end. There are a million maybes and what-ifs--what if I spoke Japanese, what if I wasn't a gaijin, and so on--but what happened to me could happen to anyone that makes an honest mistake or stops thinking for a second. In this country, you're guilty until proven innocent, and that's a really scary thing for a foreigner.

In the end, maybe things will work out for the best. I have endless support from my boss and the other ALTs, and I'm hoping to stay in Japan and find a new job. I don't want to work under a BOE that doesn't care about its staff, especially the foreign teachers, and who obviously isn't thinking about the students--the reason they have a job in the first place. The police will throw out my record (they promised they would within two weeks, and I also asked my lawyer to makes sure they do) but even then I would not be allowed to return.

If you've made it this far reading, thank you. I know it's a long story and I actually left a lot out. But just please be aware that these kinds of things do happen, and they happen to people who've worked hard, honestly, to get where they are. I will send this letter to JET, CLAIR, my teachers and parents my community, and anyone else who listens. Out of respect for the other ALTs, I won't say what city I teach in--for now, anyway.

December 18, 2002

**Anyone who wants to contact me can do so at borealise@myrealbox.com, or contact my closest ALT friend here, at sih6q@virginia.edu