by Jesse Ball
INT.
Hello. Mr. Watanabe.
VOICE
One moment. Garo! One moment, please.
(Noise of the phone being put down.)
(Perhaps thirty seconds.)
(Noise of the phone being picked up.)
GARO
Mr. Ball.
INT.
Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. We are being recorded at this time.
GARO
I understand.
INT.
You were a prison guard at the L. Facility during the spring of 1978?
GARO
I was employed there from 1960 to 1985. Yes, you could say …
(Laughs.)
GARO
You could say I was there in 1978.
INT.
And you were a guard on what is called death row, with the most dangerous prisoners?
GARO
The ones on death row aren’t always the most dangerous; that’s what people often think, but it isn’t always true. Quite the opposite sometimes. Certain types of assault, certain types of fraud, in-house kidnapping, what is that called in English?
INT.
Home invasion.
GARO
Yes, home invasion, or rape and mutilation. These are all crimes that don’t get you too much time. But the guards know. We know which ones to watch out for.
INT.
You learn that?
GARO
I think you just know it. If you don’t, you don’t last long. So, it takes care of itself. In the long run, you get guards who know what they’re doing.
INT.
You met and dealt with Oda Sotatsu at that time? The man convicted of the Narito Disappearances?
GARO
Sure, I dealt with him. If walking back and forth, looking at him, talking to him, bringing him food, counts. I only spoke to him three times. Three times in the eight months he was there. And he liked me. He wouldn’t speak to anyone else.
INT.
Eight months? I was told he was on death row for only four months.
GARO
Not to my knowledge. Four months is awfully short, awfully short. Don’t think I’ve heard of that. Matter of fact, eight months is short for a capital case. Almost unheard of. We used to say someone must have wanted him dead for it to come so quick, his number to come up, I mean. Seems he skipped clear to the head of the line. Supposedly he had an enemy, some minister, didn’t like how things went, wanted an example, I can’t say. He was easy, though. Tell you that much. Made no trouble, not once.
(Something indecipherable.)
INT.
I’m sorry, I couldn’t make that out. What did you say?
GARO
I said he was so good they let a girl in his cell, right before the end. Not that he knew it was the end, mind you. Execution’s always unannounced. Never know. They drag ‘em off through a series of rooms, one after another. We called it visiting the Buddhas because there are different statues, one in each room.
INT.
I have questions about that, but first …
[Int. note. Here we lost the connection. It was a couple of weeks before I managed to speak to him again. That continuation will come shortly.]
Photograph of Jito Joo
[Int. note. Watanabe Garo gave me a photograph that he claims had been in Oda Sotatsu’s death row cell. When I later met with Jito Joo, she admitted having given it to him. This strengthens Watanabe’s claims of having known Oda; it is also possible he recovered it from another guard, or from the cell, without having known Oda. Further conjecture on the exact degree of his reliability is likely useless.]
Interview 12 (Brother)
[Int. note. This was somewhat later in the same conversation at the pavilion. Jiro and I had been drinking, and he had begun to tell me some stories from his and Sotatsu’s childhood.]
INT.
So your father refused to take you along on the fishing boat?
JIRO
He said it would be bad luck for me to come.
INT.
And why was that?
JIRO
He said it had to do with my birth date, that it was not an, what did he call it, not an auspicious day for a fisherman to be born. He wouldn’t even let me on the boat when it was out of the water.
INT.
But he would let Sotatsu?
JIRO
Yes, Sotatsu went with him on many occasions.
INT.
Did that divide the two of you? Did you feel that you were in some kind of competition for your father’s esteem?
JIRO
No, not at all. I have heard of families like that, certainly, but …
(Laughs.)
JIRO
… not in the least. If anything it was always Sotatsu and me together against the rest of them.
INT.
You two had a special trick you would do, right? At school?
JIRO
Yes, sometimes Sotatsu would throw a stone through the window of my classroom. Then the teacher would go off trying to find who had done it and the class would end early. I also did this for his class.
INT.
But how did you manage to not be in school at that time?
JIRO
I would be using the toilet. Or, I would say so.
INT.
And was he ever caught doing this?
JIRO
He wasn’t. I did get caught, though, several times. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I ever got away with it. The schoolteachers were always suspicious of me, I don’t know why.
INT.
Do your own children take after you in that respect?
JIRO
How do you mean?
INT.
Well, that one seems to be trying to run away with my hat.
JIRO
Yes, nothing is safe around here.
Interview 13 (Brother)
[Int. note. Shortly after that, I asked him about his father’s reaction when he discovered that Jiro was still visiting Sotatsu. He had told me earlier that his father had been angry, but he hadn’t gone into detail. Later, when I asked again, he was more forthcoming.]
INT.
How did it come about that your father learned you were visiting Sotatsu?
JIRO
There was a photograph, an unfortunate photograph that was published in the newspaper, a photograph of the prison. Some photographer had visited there to take photographs of various inmates, my brother included. He passed me at the prison entrance and noticed my resemblance to Sotatsu. I tried to avoid it, but he took my photograph and sold it to the newspaper. He sold a photograph of me visiting my brother for money, and that photograph was seen by my father. He demanded that I come to see him. I did so. He was furious. He said that a decision had been made and we would all stand by it. He said that some of us were trying to continue to live, to continue with our lives, and that I wasn’t making anything easier for anyone. I replied that, in fact, I was. I was making things easier for myself and for my brother, Sotatsu. I told him that I didn’t believe Sotatsu had done anything wrong. I said I didn’t like any of it from the beginning to the end. He said that I was still stupid, and had always been so. That whether Sotatsu had done something or not was not the point and never had been. He said that you had a chance with each life, each person’s life, that there was a chance to get along without drawing the wrong kind of attention to yourself. That if you did, it was never good, it always ended badly, and the facts of the matter were nothing, were no good. He said I had a liar’s respect for the truth, which is too much respect.
INT.
And that’s when he …
JIRO
He told me he didn’t want to see me again.
INT.
But he went back on that.
JIRO
He did. Later that same year he went back on it. But he was so changed then that it didn’t matter. He was a different person
. As he is now. You can see, can’t you? There’s no satisfaction to be had from the person you met.
INT.
…
JIRO
Whether you will say so or not, you can see what a shell he is.
(Tape clicks off.)
Interview 14 (Watanabe Garo)
The First Time He Spoke with Oda Sotatsu
[Int. note. This was the interview at the ramen house, and it was the interview to which Garo brought the photograph I showed some pages back. He had the photograph in a manila envelope along with other things that he did not show me. I was very curious about what else was in the manila envelope, but if it was perhaps necessary for me to have won his trust further in order to have seen it, then in that case I failed to do what was necessary. I did not learn of the other contents. The photograph that he did give me, that of Jito Joo in a kimono, had writing on the back. The writing read, On a lake, they float, but they do not see the lake. They only see what’s above, and only in the day, and only when the sun is not too bright. I tried to discover the provenance of those lines but was unable to, until speaking to Jito Joo herself. For now, however, I was sitting opposite Watanabe Garo in the ramen house, my tape-device dwarfed by two enormous bowls of ramen.]
INT.
I am very curious, of course, to hear anything you might have to say about Oda Sotatsu, but most of all I’m curious to hear about the times when he spoke to you. Do you remember which was the first time?
GARO
Do you think I could forget a man like that?
INT.
So, he made a powerful impression, visually?
GARO
No, no, not at all. In fact, that was the thing that was most fascinating. When you were in a room with him it was like you were alone. He had the least presence of anyone I have ever met. It wasn’t just that he was quiet. Of course he was, that was his thing, no? But also, he simply appeared to be elsewhere.
INT.
And where do you think that was?
GARO
Some of the guys used to say they would wring it out of him. There were those who didn’t like him, I guess. We were divided along those lines. The newer guys didn’t like him. The older ones just valued behavior above everything.
INT.
So, the older ones liked him?
GARO
Yes, yes, we liked him.
INT.
And the first time you spoke to him, what circumstance was that under?
GARO
It was about a shogi set.
INT.
A shogi set?
GARO
Most of the prisoners awaiting execution, or appealing it while waiting, they get a shogi set.
INT.
So, they play with each other? Or with the guards?
GARO
They do not play. Not with each other, and not with the guards. They mostly just move the pieces around. Some of them like to act like they are playing games by themselves, but I don’t think they really do. I think they just move the pieces to pass the time.
INT.
But, presumably some of them do know the game and can play by themselves.
GARO
I think they know how to play. I just think it is useless to play by yourself. I have watched them doing it. It isn’t really a game, not like you would think.
INT.
So, you were bringing him a shogi set?
GARO
When he spoke? No. He had the set. He would always take the gold generals out of the set and hold them in his hand. I don’t know why. So, it became this question. Why did Oda Sotatsu hold on to the gold generals? A reporter was visiting and noticed. She noticed too that the pieces on the board were set up strangely. It became this thing—everyone was wondering, was this a clue? Was he finally revealing something about where the victims were?
INT.
So, the press was just allowed into the prison?
GARO
Rarely. Hardly ever. Really not much at all. This was an exception, I’d say. Anyway, so there was a bet. I don’t remember what we bet, maybe some portion of our salary or shift pick or something. It did matter, though. Oh, now I remember. It was vacation. The one who bet right would get a day of the others’ vacation. There was a lot of talk. But, Oda wouldn’t explain. He wouldn’t say why he was doing it. Different guards came up to him, asking him. They threatened him, they begged him. Nothing worked.
INT.
But you got him to explain it?
GARO
Well, I just noticed it by accident. He was using the board as a calendar. To do that, you only need thirty-six pieces, not forty. So, he would take the gold generals off the board. I don’t think he liked them being on the floor of the cell, so he would hold them. It was as simple as that. I noticed because I saw that he changed the board first thing when he would wake up. Nobody else knew what that meant, but eventually I did. So, I said to him, Prisoner Oda, you missed a day.
INT.
“You missed a day”?
GARO
That’s what I said, You missed a day.
INT.
And what did he say?
GARO
For a second he looked very carefully at the board. I think he was worried someone had moved it around while he was sleeping. Someone did do that once. He was checking to see that it was right. Then he said, No. I didn’t miss any days.
INT.
And that was it?
GARO
That was it. It got me two weeks off. That’s probably why I was so nice to him from then on. That and the fact that …
INT.
That what?
GARO
That it made me feel good he would talk to me and not to the others. I liked to pretend it was because I had secrets, about how to be a guard, but it wasn’t that.
INT.
Who can say?
Interview 15 (Brother’s Wife)
[Int. note. I spoke to Jiro’s wife one of the days when I was enjoying their hospitality. She was a very sharp and argumentative woman if she felt she was right, and we got along quite well. In the evening time, the family played various games, board games and games of other sorts, and she was merciless. I played her in go, a game at which I can claim little skill, and she defeated me with very little effort. She seemed to be glad that I was writing this book, and that I was meeting so often with Jiro. One morning while I was sitting out very early (I had been unable to sleep), she came out and sat by me and we spoke. I didn’t record the conversation, but I remember a good deal of what she said. I paraphrase below.]
She said that I should know, that Jiro wouldn’t say all of it, but that I should know that Jiro’s family has not ever been any good to him, not in the least. That even now all they want is for him to give them money. They don’t even want him to visit. She said that his sister is the worst of all, a petty intellectual. She said that one of the great sadnesses in her life is that she didn’t get to meet Sotatsu, as Jiro speaks so highly of him, and that she just knows, just knows that they would have been very close. When I asked if she had known about the Narito Disappearances and the whole business when she met Jiro, she said that she had. She said that there was no getting away from it. But, she said, it hadn’t made her think any one thing more than another. Maybe it would for some people, but not for her. I asked her if they often saw the rest of the Oda family. She said she discouraged it as much as she could, and that I could print that, if I wanted to.
Int. Note
[I went on a walk with Jiro on one of the days I visited there. He said there was a way to go that would be quite pleasant, especially on a day like that. I didn’t know what he meant. It seemed like any other day, but when we went outside, there was a sun-shower going on. He said he loved sunshowers more than any other weather. They were good luck, but some people said you shouldn’t go out in them. Do you go out in them? I asked. I always do, he said. Always. We went down off of his property and along a thin roa
d. No cars came or went. He told me that you get the whole place to yourself, since everyone stays in. Which place? I asked him. Any place, he said, laughing. After a while, we passed a small wooded area with some broken-down buildings. They were a deep rust red, and there was old broken farm equipment here and there. Something that had been a barn was now leaning on itself, huddling in. The site was quite arresting. I said there was no good catalog of the human qualities of buildings or alleys. Jiro asked me what I meant. I said something like, there is a quality of firmness or importance, secret importance that one puts on small geographies and features of landscape, houses, yards, hidden spots beneath trees. To have a list of such places. That was my explanation, and it prompted him to tell me the following.]
JIRO
Is it on? All right. This is the memory. When we were boys there was an old gate at the end of a little road. We would go to it. Do you know what I mean? Do you remember boys go to things, to places where limits exist—to the end of things wherever they can be found, to the bottom of holes, to the sea, to walls, fences, gates, locked doors. Do you remember of all places, these are where boys feel their real work must be done? My parents had never taken us there. Matter of fact, we had never even seen anyone else on that road at all. When we stepped onto it, we felt we were gone away. Well, we would go there and look at this gate, just stare at it. We felt it was unclimbable, it was so rusty and sharp.