CHAPTER 427: CHAPTER 326: NOT GUILTY DEFENSE

The court sessions usually take place between 9 and 10 AM on weekdays. If it’s a full-day trial, it might continue until 5 PM or even later, with breaks in between.

Minamoto Tamako had asked for leave from Chief Kikuchi in advance and was waiting at the courthouse door by seven o’clock in the morning.

Fushimi Roku, after dropping Taira Sakurako off at school, also came to observe. On one hand, it was because Minamoto Tamako insisted, and on the other, because he needed to keep an eye on Lawyer Kikuta to prevent any mishaps.

Director Fujiwara had suppressed the news. The Criminal News Agency didn’t report it, and other local publications didn’t dare offend the Police Department Director. In this era where news media wasn’t very advanced, the voice of ordinary people was almost negligible.

There were no reporters in front of the court, nor any onlookers. When the court opened, there wasn’t a single spectator.

Minamoto Tamako sat all alone in the gallery, twiddling her thumbs anxiously.

The judge yawned as he took the stand. The detention officers brought Fujiwara Homare to the defendant’s stand and unlocked his shackles. Lawyer Kikuta rushed in with his briefcase, quickly took his seat at the defense table, and began organizing his materials.

"The prosecutor might be half an hour late," the clerk looked at the watch and reminded, "He just called to say he’s stuck in traffic."

The old judge frowned and muttered something, presumably criticizing the prosecutor for not being punctual.

Minamoto Tamako felt anxious; she didn’t see Yoshikawa Ritsuo’s family. The court officer stood by, dozing off. This trial didn’t seem as solemn as she had imagined, nor as eye-catching as she expected.

Everyone waited until about nine thirty, and the prosecutor still hadn’t arrived.

Fushimi Roku, as usual, had Sakurako push him to school and then called Kazama Tatsuya for help. The latter was drinking with Watanabe Shun during the day, nurturing their temperaments and healing their minds, so naturally, he couldn’t be bothered.

With no other choice, he had to take a cab to the court and paid the taxi driver to wait and look after his precious wheelchair.

"What’s going on now?"

Fushimi Roku sat beside Minamoto Tamako, reaching into her pocket, "Did you bring any food? I haven’t had breakfast yet..."

"The prosecutor is late, saying he’s stuck in traffic," Minamoto Tamako slapped away his mischievous hand and grumbled discontentedly, "You can’t eat in the courtroom!"

Fushimi Roku made an ’uh-huh’ sound, looked around, and found it strange not to see the family present.

Soon after, Director Fujiwara arrived with his wife. The two sat in the front row of the gallery. Mrs. Fujiwara was holding a handkerchief, wiping her tears. When she saw her son standing at the defendant’s stand, she cried even more, sobbing, "It’s all my fault... It’s all my fault..."

The presence of his parents made Fujiwara Homare particularly uncomfortable. He lowered his head, turned his face away, and kept silent, fingers nervously picking at the dead skin on his wrist.

The awkward and heavy atmosphere continued to spread. Minamoto Tamako was restless, wanting to say something to Director Fujiwara, yet feeling it inappropriate to approach and speak.

Another half hour passed until a little after ten when hurried footsteps sounded outside the courtroom.

"I said, no comment! The trial is about to start. Can’t you just go inside and listen?!"

"I just want to know how my daughter died... I don’t believe what the police said... I beg you, I’ll kneel for you..."

"Step aside! If you want to kneel, then kneel, but don’t grab onto me!"

A commotion erupted outside the main door, and everyone turned to look. The prosecutor pushed open the door to enter, followed closely by a middle-aged couple who clung to him, insisting that the prosecutor provide an explanation.

The plaintiff’s lawyer kept advising the couple to calm down, noting that the trial was about to start and that their actions were more harmful than helpful to the case proceedings.

Doi Izuki followed at the back. She seemed unaccustomed to the chaotic situation, keeping her head down, occasionally softly comforting the couple.

Minamoto Tamako thought that the elderly couple must be Yoshikawa Ritsuo’s parents.

The court officers stepped in and pulled the Yoshikawa couple away. The prosecutor finally breathed a sigh of relief, adjusted his suit, glared at the Yoshikawa couple, and quickly walked to his seat and sat down: "Sorry, I’m late..."

"Let’s get started," the judge said impatiently.

Before the court officially opened, the court officer requested everyone to turn off their phones, announced the court order, and asked the observers to comply. After they complied, the judge knocked the gavel to declare the trial open, with the prosecutor speaking first, outlining the indictment and the claims succinctly and clearly.

Based on the report submitted by Minamoto Tamako, the prosecutor presented the investigation results, using authenticated evidence and the killer’s confession to reconstruct the case events, and as per usual protocol, charged Fujiwara Homare with deliberate murder.

Given the perpetrator’s voluntary confession, absence of concealment, and first-time offense, the prosecutor recommended a sentence of 13 to 20 years in prison.

Under Japanese law, the prosecutor’s charges were considered quite reasonable and fair. There was no favoritism shown towards Fujiwara Homare because he was Director Fujiwara’s only son, nor was there any excessive strictness due to the same reason. The process was strictly business as usual.

However, on a personal emotional level, Yoshikawa’s parents couldn’t accept this result.

Their daughter, in the prime of youth, inexplicably murdered, lay eternally beneath the ground, while the perpetrator could run and jump, breathe and speak, and after serving a mere dozen or so years, could walk free as if nothing happened. How could they possibly accept this?

No matter if Fujiwara Homare serves twenty years in prison, he’ll only be in his forties upon release. If he behaves well in prison, he might be released early, in his thirties, still in the prime of life, able to enjoy a great life.

Mr. Yoshikawa firmly disagreed, shouting for the death penalty, wanting the murderer to pay with his life!

Fujiwara Homare’s head hung even lower, as if he wanted to drop his head onto his knees.

The judge had to strike his gavel, maintaining courtroom order, and stated that there would be a session for the victim’s family to give their sentencing opinions. If the Yoshikawa couple disrupted order again, he would have the bailiff expel them.

Upon hearing this, the Yoshikawa couple finally fell silent.

Minamoto Tamako’s heart clenched as she watched Mrs. Yoshikawa sobbing against her husband’s chest. She didn’t know how to break the truth to them—if they knew their daughter committed suicide, it would surely bring them more pain and remorse.

Fushimi Roku was used to such scenes; he was numb to them, feeling nothing in particular. However, the familiar courtroom setting evoked some bad memories for him, leaving his mood unsettled.

Next, it was the turn of the defendant and the defense to speak.

Lawyer Kikuta removed his glasses and wiped them with a cloth, then put them back on before standing up to address the claims made by the prosecution.

—He declared a not guilty plea.

The judge and prosecutor were not surprised; typically, when a lawyer claims a not guilty plea, they inform the judge and relevant parties ahead of the trial. In places like Europe and America, this helps clarify the dispute focus of the case, facilitating the arrangement of subsequent trial procedures.

But in Japanese criminal procedure, there is no clear plea bargaining, as found in Anglo-American legal systems, nor is there a requirement for the defendant or defense lawyer to declare their position before trial.

The reason for maintaining this unwritten rule is only one:

In Japan, a lawyer declaring a not guilty plea is akin to declaring war on the prosecutor and law enforcement agencies.

The Yoshikawa couple stood up in shock, and before they could angrily scold, the judge struck his gavel again, forcibly suppressing their doubts.

"Are you sure, Lawyer Kikuta? Claiming not guilty at this point is not a wise choice."

The prosecutor casually reminded, asserting a not guilty plea would be more troublesome and might lead to another appeal, which they wanted to avoid. It would be best to resolve it decisively.

Every lawyer knows that asserting a not guilty plea carries significant risk, with a ninety percent chance of losing, and it could result in harsher sentencing for refusing to plead guilty. Unless there is decisive evidence and absolute certainty, lawyers generally avoid asserting not guilty.

But in the prosecutor’s view, there was little to defend in this case.

Surely the Fujiwara family exerted pressure, forcing Lawyer Kikuta to take a gamble.

Under everyone’s gaze, Kikuta Akio took a deep breath, instinctively glancing at the spectator seats, where Fushimi Roku sat. Their eyes met, conveying everything without words.

"I’m sure."

Kikuta Akio finished speaking without daring to look at the Yoshikawa couple.

He took two prepared materials from the table, handing one to the clerk to pass to the judge, while the other was magnified and projected onto the screen for everyone to see.

Everyone looked up to see the screen displaying a fingerprint analysis and evidence photo of a bloody fruit knife, enlarged with details clearly visible.

"Please look, everyone, this is the fingerprint analysis of the fruit knife." Kikuta Akio said: "This is the decisive evidence convicting Mr. Fujiwara."

"I know," the prosecutor turned and rested his arm on the table, spreading his hands and asking, "Is there a problem? Are you questioning the fingerprint isn’t Mr. Fujiwara’s?"

Kikuta Akio did not refute, continuing: "You can see the fingerprints originate from the handle, stained with a substantial amount of blood, which dried and left clear fingerprints, proving Mr. Fujiwara held the knife after the handle was stained."

"So what?" the prosecutor asked.

"But this cannot prove Mr. Fujiwara held the knife before it was stained," Kikuta Akio scratched his nose.

The courtroom instantly lost control, not only Minamoto Tamako widened her eyes, the Yoshikawa couple likewise disregarded the judge’s warning, loudly protesting, eager to pick up the nameplate from the table to break Lawyer Kikuta’s nose.

The prosecutor laughed angrily, saying, "Are you trying to fool me like a kid? Playing word games in court? It’s absurd..."

Kikuta Akio interrupted: "Please look at the next page, this is also a fingerprint analysis report, taken from the surface of the knife handle after the blood scab was peeled."

"Whether on the surface of the handle or behind the coagulated blood scab, there are only the fingerprints of the deceased, Yoshikawa Ritsuo."

"This is enough to prove that Mr. Fujiwara held the murder weapon only after the blood had coagulated or semi-coagulated."

Once this was said, the courtroom fell into silence.