Issue:
November 2024
FCCJ members visit Japan’s biggest prison, home to gangsters, drug dealers … and a lot of graying men
A good number of people who encounter Japan’s justice system, which boasts a 99% conviction rate, end up in Fuchū Prison. Situated on the western outskirts of Tokyo, Fuchū is Japan's largest prison, where routine, silence, and isolation are a way of life. Almost 1,700 inmates are held here, from elderly convicts to former and current members of the yakuza, all under the watchful eyes of 600 officers.
Surrounding the prison is a community of low-rise apartments where prison workers and their families live. Signs of everyday life – children’s toys and bicycles – dot the paths. A judo uniform hangs on a clothesline, drying on a balcony. An ordinary scene against the backdrop of confinement.
The warden, Hiroyuki Yashiro, met us at the prison entrance. “Come on in, it’s not exactly Disneyland in here,” he said as we passed through the security chamber. A 40-year veteran of prison management, Yashiro touted his creative solutions, such as alllowing loner inmates tend to a small sunflower garden. But for the most part, Fuchū remains a silent, controlled space.
While the cells may be larger than some cramped Tokyo hotel rooms, and the atmosphere safe, the overwhelming sense of order and isolation never loosens its grip. Inmates marched in lockstep, avoiding eye contact with visitors. Communication between inmates was nearly nonexistent, preserving a continuity of control, a process that had already been set in motion.
Japanese jails have faced international criticism for their strict treatment of inmates. But Yashiro defended this approach: “The rules are strict, but they keep the inmates safe,” he said. He emphasized the need for balance. Prisoners who misbehave may be asked to sit alone in silence and reflect on their actions. “We want to know what motivates them, how they can be reformed.”
Immaculate cells are empty during the day while prisoners work. The placement of every item is strictly monitored, down to the angle of objects on a table.
Inmates work in the prison factories, sewing leather goods such as handbags and assembling plastic clothespins. The factory resembles the small industrial shops that are the lifeblood of Tokyo. There’s even an auto body shop. They work in shifts, both morning and afternoon, just like in the outside world.
The lockup and its factories aren’t air-conditioned, though. “It’s just too cost prohibitive,” Yashiro said. "We find other ways to keep cool, like wet towels." There was temperature control in the factory where elderly and ill prisoners worked.
Inmates can only see their visitors through a pane of glass, with a guard present in the room. No physical contact is allowed. Yashiro scoffed at the idea of contraband making its way inside. “Amazon doesn’t deliver here. And escapes? No way!”
The average sentence at Fuchū is around three years, and seven-plus years for foreign inmates, who are also on average 10 years younger than their Japanese counterparts.
Elaborate, colorful tattoos cover the arms, chests and backs of many inmates, indicating their ties to Japan’s underworld. Fuchū officials estimate that roughly one-third of prisoners are associated with the yakuza. Recidivism here exceeds the national average, with about 30% of released inmates returning within two years. “Some of these gangsters have no gangs to go back to because the gangs are gone,” one official said.
As Japan’s population ages, caring for incarcerated seniors is a growing challenge. Its largest correctional center carries a distinct old-folks-home-for-the-mob vibe. Nearly one in four inmates are over 65, serving out their golden years behind bars. One elderly prisoner tossed beanbags to improve his muscle strength, while another worked diligently on a BOSU-type ball to improve his balance and prevent falls. The facility had stationary exercise bikes and wet rooms used for basic nursing care and training.
Yashiro acknowledged the tough road inmates face upon release. Job opportunities for elderly ex-cons are few and far between, and nearly half don’t have support or a place to stay. “You know, some would prefer to stay in here,” Yashiro said. “We see things differently, though. Life is better for them on the outside.”
Anthony Trotter, a multi-role journalist and cameraman at ABC News, is committed to clear and accurate reporting. Beyond the lens, Anthony practices Aikido, integrating its principles of discipline and harmony into his life. "In every story, a thread of truth weaves through the noise.”
