Misaki confronted the man. “Witness, please state your name and occupation.”
“Toshihiko Aoyagi. I am engaged in the financial services business at Tokyo Mortgage.”
“The financial services business—what kind of financial services do you offer?”
“Collateral loans for real estate and securities.”
“In the case of a collateral loan, the amount per person must be quite substantial.”
“Yes. The average per account is about thirty million yen.”
“What kind of relationship did you have with the victim in the case under trial?”
“Mr. Shingo Tsuda was a client that I handled.”
“So your company lent money to the victim. How much?”
“The figure was sixty million yen,” Aoyagi replied in a monotone.
The atmosphere in the courtroom turned just a little tense. Even Mikoshiba’s eyebrows seemed to have risen a fraction. A debt burden of over sixty million yen in the victim’s name was precious ammunition for the prosecution.
“Sixty million yen. I recall that the victim had been unemployed since his termination three years prior. Do you lend such large sums to the jobless?”
“No. He presented himself to us not as unemployed but as a day trader. And the product was a securities investment loan. As long as there is collateral, a client’s income level is only of secondary concern in our screening process,” Aoyagi answered, unperturbed, though he was addressing a prosecutor of all people.
Credit loaners looked at the loanee, while collateral loaners looked at the collateral—but listening to Aoyagi, even that old piece of wisdom began to sound fishy. Ideally, financial services lent sums that could be recovered, regardless of the type of loan, but financial institutions including banks still tended to overestimate a customer’s repayment capacity. Ironically, this tendency had only grown worse after revisions to the Lending Control Act effectively tightened the pool of potential clients. Collateral loans being excluded from the cap on total lending was a big factor, but in a nutshell, lenders were scrambling for slices of a smaller pie.
“Would you give us a detailed explanation of these securities investment loans?” Misaki, who of course didn’t need to be enlightened, nevertheless asked the witness in order to shed the court’s light on a hidden part of the Tsudas.
“First, we ask the client to submit collateral securities. If their value is ten million yen, we appraise it at eighty percent, or eight million yen, and offer a loan up to five times the amount, or forty million yen. The loan will be used entirely for securities investments, and the purchased securities also stay in our keeping as collateral. If they are sold when the stock price is higher than the purchase price, the marginal gain redounds to the client.”
“That is to say, the purchased securities become collateral as is, the lender has security, and the client can invest five times the actual funds to earn a fivefold return … Is that the logic?”
“Just as you said.”
“But we have heard that the securities investments made by the victim were bankrupt. Apparently, most of the securities he had were not sellable. It is obviously difficult to recoup sixty million yen from such a client.”
“That isn’t true. There was the possibility of a price increase of the securities we held as collateral.” Having lent a so-called day trader of ambiguous social standing and means a sum that no ordinary salaried worker could repay seemed not to shame Aoyagi even a little.
The man’s barefaced impudence ruffled Misaki’s ethical sensibilities at every turn. “But once the appraised value dipped below the loan amount, recouping the total sum was impossible, wasn’t it?”
“Not true, Mr. Tsuda had real estate.”
“Please share the details.”
“He contracted with us in April of 2008, and the Lehman Shock occurred in September of that year. The estimated value of his stock holdings depreciated sharply, and he needed to provide add-co.”
“Add-co?”
“To put it simply, the collateral value has to rise to correspond to the loan balance. In other words, to even things out, the client can either increase our security with additional collateral or decrease the loan balance.”
“How did the victim proceed?”
“Mr. Tsuda had no source of income other than stock trading. Fortunately, though, he had real estate in his name. At that time, his actual collateral value was 14,770,000 yen against a loan balance of 60,000,000 yen, so he was short a net amount of 45,230,000 yen. However, it could be secured to some extent by placing a mortgage on the real estate in his name.”
“To some extent?”
“He had a first mortgage on his home for his housing loan, so ours was a second mortgage. Based on the actual value of the real estate, the remaining amount after deduction of the first mortgage was only 15,000,000 yen. Thus, even if Mr. Tsuda disposed of all the securities and real estate, he would still owe over 30,000,000 yen as an unsecured loan.”
“Thirty million yen without collateral. That is a large amount. How did you intend to collect it?”
“The only way was to have the client pay little by little. The securities were not sellable in the absence of demand for them, and the real estate, which was his saving grace, can’t always be sold at the market price.”
“Did you urge him to make his payments?”
“Yes, of course. I tried to contact him many times via letter, telephone, email, etc.”
“You only tried? You couldn’t meet him?”
“Nope, not at all. There was simply no response to the letters and emails, and he wouldn’t come to the phone. I visited his home in frustration, but he had shut himself in his room and refused to take a single step outside. I was really at a loss.”
“So what did you do if you couldn’t meet him?”
“I had no choice but to leave a message with his wife and withdraw. We can’t make demands of somebody who is not a guarantor.”
“You couldn’t make demands because she wasn’t a guarantor, but you did inform the defendant of the debt?”
“Yes. And she said that she’d heard from him that he owed us a tidy sum.”
“How did the defendant react when you informed her?”
“Like any ordinary wife, she looked both harassed and embarrassed.”
“Your honor,” interrupted Mikoshiba. “The prosecution is trying to blend the facts with the witness’s impressions.”
“These aren’t impressions. It is a frank indication of the defendant’s attitude toward her husband’s debt and would have been an unprejudiced observation on the part of the witness, a third party.”
“The court approves of the questioning. Please continue.”
“Witness, what did the defendant say when you visited for the purpose of urging repayment?”
“Again, she was like any ordinary wife. She apologized that her husband wasn’t dependable. She said she’d repay us if she could, but was only a part-timer. They were struggling thanks to the loan on the house, but she would speak to her husband without fail so if we could wait just a little … That sort of thing.”
“Thank you very much. That will be enough,” Misaki concluded his questioning of Aoyagi. “Your honor, next, I would like to question the defendant.”
Misaki glanced at his opponent out of the corner of his vision. Mikoshiba’s face was still as emotionless as a Noh mask, but his eyes were alert. The guy had instantly figured out where this was going.
Feel free to fret, Misaki chuckled.
From the previous session Misaki had a read on Mikoshiba’s defense strategy. It was to relativize Akiko’s murderous intent by painting Shingo’s behavior in as unfavorable a light as possible. But turning the victim into a villain could actually play into Misaki’s hands.
“Proceed.”
Misaki faced Akiko squarely. She kept her gaze lowered in the defendant’s seat and didn’t turn towards him, but he didn’t mind. “I’d like to ask the defendant.
Is what the witness just said true in its entirety?”
“… it’s true.”
“Your husband borrowed a large amount of money and placed a double mortgage on the house. And you received requests for repayment from the lender almost every day. How did you feel about your husband? About your livelihood?”
Akiko stayed bent over and didn’t answer.
“If he was only undependable as a provider and did not interact much with family members, that was one thing. But taking out a mortgage on the house and messing with your livelihood made him nothing but a nuisance. In fact, for someone who, in the words of the defense from the previous hearing, more than fulfilled her responsibilities as a mother, he was a present threat that might ruin your children’s future. Isn’t that so? Defendant, please answer.”
Although Misaki pressed for testimony, if she was going to keep her mouth shut, then that was fine. The point was to prove that there was another factor in the defendant’s detestation of the victim.
As expected, however, Mikoshiba cut in. “Your honor. That right now was an eminently leading question. The prosecution is pressuring the defendant into offering up a black-or-white answer.”
“Acknowledged. The prosecution must modify the question.”
I’m done, your honor—it was when Misaki was about to end his questioning.
“… Yes, I thought so.”
He turned toward the faint voice to find that Akiko had raised her face a little.
“I found him annoying. I didn’t hate him, but every day, remembering the huge debt, I felt like running away. Even when they came to try to collect it, my husband just stayed in his room and I was the one who had to deal with them. He must have heard our voices, but he never did come out.”
Misaki almost broke into a little dance. The woman had dug her own grave. “Ah, so you did feel something akin to anger.”
“I think any normal wife would have.”
When Misaki looked in Mikoshiba’s direction, even that Noh mask was twisted into a grimace. It was as if an unexploded bomb he’d taken for a dud had blown up in his face.
How flustered he must be under his mask.
“I have no more questions for the witness.”
The atmosphere in the courtroom made it clear: the prosecution still enjoyed an overwhelming advantage. The defendant was imploding of her own accord. For the side demanding punishment, nothing was more delectable.
“Your honor. I would like to cross-examine the prosecution’s witness.”
“Proceed.”
Mikoshiba didn’t look shaken in the least by the time he stood up. Misaki had to admit the guy was tough.
“Witness, how many years have you been at your current job?”
“Over ten years.”
“You must have come across various types of clients, then.”
“Yes, of course. There are as many different types of clients as there are clients. And the ways to deal with them vary no less.”
“Now, what the defendant talked about, that is, when you visited the Tsuda residence—she was the one you spoke to on every such occasion?”
“Yes, that is right. I visited them often after we were short of collateral, but never could meet the client.”
“Did you always visit at the same hour?”
“No. Sometimes I visited their house alongside other cases, so it wasn’t always the same time of day. First of all, the client always being home is rare. I’d visit from anywhere between nine in the morning to nine at night.”
“Yet the defendant worked part-time. She should have been away at work during the day. Even so, it was always the defendant that you spoke to?”
“Ah, no …” Aoyagi, who had replied unhesitatingly so far, suddenly faltered.
Apparently convinced about something, Mikoshiba stepped toward Aoyagi and demanded, “What’s the matter? Was it the defendant every time?”
“It wasn’t every time. When I went in the evening, sometimes she wasn’t back home yet.”
“Who met you in that case?”
“The elder daughter,” Aoyagi replied, his voice weirdly subdued. His expression, which had been so calm despite being in a courtroom, now looked troubled.
Misaki was suddenly consumed by anxiety. Why this hesitation on the part of a debt-collection machine that frequented the Tsuda residence simply on company orders?
“The elder daughter would answer the door and tell me that her father wasn’t home. But I could see the light leaking from his room. Fully aware of this, okay, the daughter would bow and say, ‘Sorry, p-please leave for today.’ ” His own voice had trembled toward the end, his mask as a debt servicer dropping at that moment.
“How did you feel about that?”
“It angered me. I shouldn’t use such words about a client, but I couldn’t forgive him as a person.”
“What couldn’t you forgive?”
“His using his daughter as a shield to cope with a debt collector. I-I’m a father, too, so I thought he was all the more despicable.”
“Despicable, huh?”
“Well, some folks … some of our clients, I should say, are like that. Both parents are home, and yet they make their kids, very young kids, answer the door or phone. We debt servicers are human, too. How do you even tell children who’re lying that their parents aren’t home to go get their parents, let alone that it concerns money? That’s why these parents use their children as a shield. Wh-What sort of parent does that?”
The courtroom fell silent.
“Shingo Tsuda was one such person. I never actually met him, so he seemed all the more horrible to me.”
“I conclude my cross-examination.”
Ouch, Misaki winced.
This guy Mikoshiba—he’d only met Aoyagi in the courtroom today but had grasped the witness’s personality on the fly and fogged up the picture of Akiko that Misaki had just painted. Coming from a creditor whose interests weren’t aligned with the defendant, the testimony seemed all the more authentic. Mikoshiba probably had acquaintances engaged in collection and knew of debtors who used children as shields, but even so, he had riposted so nimbly. Was it innate talent, or had he acquired it during his legal apprenticeship?
I really mustn’t underestimate him.
Misaki hastily raised his hand. “Your honor!”
“Yes, prosecutor.”
Facing the judges’ bench and Sanjo, Misaki kept his adversary in sight, but Mikoshiba’s profile was still devoid of emotion. “The statement made by the witness right now referred to the character of the victim, but it is doubtful that it serves as contrary evidence. It does not prove the absence of a motive as claimed by the defense, and on the contrary, provides supporting evidence of a motive.”
Sanjo nodded slightly. Good, he agrees.
“The testimony puts in relief an aspect of the victim that no father or husband could be proud of, but also supplements the defendant’s motive for killing the victim. And needless to say, that a father may have been lacking in affection or as a provider does not excuse his murder.” Misaki’s voice resonanted in the courtroom. “The defendant’s circumstances may be worthy of sympathy, but consultation services for domestic violence, or so-called DV, have been set up at police departments and municipal governments across the country. Even if violence had been the issue, knocking on these services’ doors would have solved the problem. She could have run away or chased him out. If we were to exonerate the accused’s deed as legitimate self-defense, we would be saying that purging the world of its many violent husbands in such a manner is perfectly acceptable to us. The defense is trying various arguments regarding the motive for murder, but the accused’s petulant deed must not be affirmed. What is to be judged in this courtroom are not her motives, but her actions.”
When the argument got complicated, it was time to harken back to basic principles. This was true vis-à-vis Sanjo, a veteran judge, but such a cordon doubled as a precaution against Mikoshiba’s surprise attacks.
> Sanjo, who seemed to understand Misaki’s intent without exchanging a word with him, looked down at Mikoshiba from the bench. “Defense. Do you have any new evidence to submit?”
I’m glad you said that.
Sanjo’s demand was like a call in a card game: show your hand, or forfeit the match.
But unruffled by the ultimatum, Mikoshiba swiftly rose and said, “I will, at the next session.”
Sanjo’s face seemed to stiffen for a moment. No, Misaki’s own must have as well.
Was the guy still hiding something, or was he just bluffing? At any rate, Mikoshiba’s unwillingness to graciously concede defeat almost drew a sigh out of Misaki.
But his mood perked up right away. In this latest hearing, the prosecution had held on to its advantage. While Mikoshiba’s ripostes were a thing to behold, he was on the defensive, and his guard was fraying. Arguably, the overall outcome was already decided.
“The next session will be held in two weeks’ time. This court is adjourned.”
Leaving the courtroom, Misaki went down to the basement cafeteria because it was close to noon.
The Tokyo High Court’s basement was host to three eateries: Cafeteria One, Darlington Hall, and a soba noodle shop. Cafeteria One, in particular, was popular not just among court people but the staff of other government bureaus, who came all the way here for its affordable menu.
It must have been one of the cafeteria’s rare slow days because there was nobody at the meal ticket counter. Misaki purchased a stub for Set Menu E, entered, and regretted his decision. There hadn’t been a line at the counter because the cafeteria was already full.
Still, when he looked around, there was a vacant seat at a table near a wall. Misaki approached it at a quick pace, then regretted his decision again. In front of the vacant seat sat Mikoshiba.
No law prohibited a prosecutor from chowing down with a defense attorney on the same case, but Misaki hardly relished the idea. When he rushed to turn away, however, their eyes met.
Now that they had, turning his back would seem like retreat. It was odious, but he had to take the seat.
Nocturne of Remembrance Page 18