cheek (“I cut it shaving.”), Shan Le leaps into action with all the restless energy of an over-talented under-prepared university student. The letter—several letters—go out to various non-profit groups, political officials, semi-tangentially related random organizations (a scam human-cloning company; two or three diploma mills), and somehow out of this Shan hits pay-dirt. Jury Trial, a British NGO of unknown background, decides to jump in; they already have an office in downtown Tokyo .
“Did you know that 99% of people arrested by Japanese police are convicted, and that after one hundred forty years after exposure to modern jurisprudence, Japan still doesn’t have a trial-by-one’s-peers criminal court system?”
Shan’s mail-a-lawyer, the London-trained barrister and smartly-cut corporate-attired individual with a mad, crazed gleam in her eye on a Thursday afternoon after Shan convinces me to attend his first meeting with the group starts lecturing me on Jury Trial's position. (He thinks he will have greater prestige with a Westerner accompanying him to his meeting. Jury Trial itself is nonplussed, neither positive nor negative.)
“Simon Arner, a UK citizen, was convicted and sentenced to 38-years in prison because somebody hid a sachet of ecstasy pills in his luggage upon his arrival in Narita. A young promising university graduate who loses the rest of his life because he can’t even provide evidence in his defense to a group of fair-minded, community-oriented citizens!”
I don’t know if I will ever understand these single-minded, single-issued crusaders who seem so absolutely certain about their one fixed idea that they approach it with such maniacal enthusiasm. Jury Trial also has another lawyer on staff, an older Jewish gentlemen with rheumy eyes and arthritic; he makes cynical little remarks and cracks jokes about Shan but otherwise remains silent; he is a social observer.
“Shan, tell us what happened with this woman. Why is she coming after you?
“You should see the university! They come in with four police officers, each carrying kendo stick! It is humiliation! In front of all my dormitory mates!”
“That isn’t the question. What is your explanation for Dominique’s behavior?”
“Dominique is hating me! She is liar and criminal!”
This is the problem. This is the problem. For all his bluster, all his yelling and screaming, Shan is completely unable to come up with an explanation for why Dominique is behaving the way she is, whereas the other side is able to come up with if not compelling, at least consistent, series of events; they are able to come up with a story that even if unprovable and relying on hearsay, assigns motivations to all parties involved. Claim: Shan and Dominique had coffee together. Claim: Shan and Dominique were going out. Claim: Shan pulled a knife out on Dominique. Fact: Dominique showed up crying and hysterical at the embassy. Who can poke a hole in this story? And so the lawyers meet; they nod their heads; all sides trade point for point, but theirs is the firmer narrative. Shan is a dork, beyond dorkiness. If he just says, 'look I pulled out a knife,' it's 30 days, maybe a letter in a file. People at Waseda are even trying to help him. But he's pig-headed, stubborn. He offers no explanation why Dominique would make up charges against him, although insists and insists and insists that she's making up everything out of whole cloth. LeFauve brings out “Rihanna Paciano,” a three-hundred pound pock-marked monstrosity, dispatched from Washington as special “Gender Affairs Officer” directly from the State Department.
“It’s simple, actually. Shan is a degenerate, primitive, Neanderthal male, one who hands out with notorious womanizers and alleged drug-users; he wanted Dominique LeFauve, his advances were rejected, and so he pulled out a knife. This is criminal behavior. He is clearly a
“Did you know that 99% of people arrested by Japanese police are convicted, and that after one hundred forty years after exposure to modern jurisprudence, Japan still doesn’t have a trial-by-one’s-peers criminal court system?”
Shan’s mail-a-lawyer, the London-trained barrister and smartly-cut corporate-attired individual with a mad, crazed gleam in her eye on a Thursday afternoon after Shan convinces me to attend his first meeting with the group starts lecturing me on Jury Trial's position. (He thinks he will have greater prestige with a Westerner accompanying him to his meeting. Jury Trial itself is nonplussed, neither positive nor negative.)
“Simon Arner, a UK citizen, was convicted and sentenced to 38-years in prison because somebody hid a sachet of ecstasy pills in his luggage upon his arrival in Narita. A young promising university graduate who loses the rest of his life because he can’t even provide evidence in his defense to a group of fair-minded, community-oriented citizens!”
I don’t know if I will ever understand these single-minded, single-issued crusaders who seem so absolutely certain about their one fixed idea that they approach it with such maniacal enthusiasm. Jury Trial also has another lawyer on staff, an older Jewish gentlemen with rheumy eyes and arthritic; he makes cynical little remarks and cracks jokes about Shan but otherwise remains silent; he is a social observer.
“Shan, tell us what happened with this woman. Why is she coming after you?
“You should see the university! They come in with four police officers, each carrying kendo stick! It is humiliation! In front of all my dormitory mates!”
“That isn’t the question. What is your explanation for Dominique’s behavior?”
“Dominique is hating me! She is liar and criminal!”
This is the problem. This is the problem. For all his bluster, all his yelling and screaming, Shan is completely unable to come up with an explanation for why Dominique is behaving the way she is, whereas the other side is able to come up with if not compelling, at least consistent, series of events; they are able to come up with a story that even if unprovable and relying on hearsay, assigns motivations to all parties involved. Claim: Shan and Dominique had coffee together. Claim: Shan and Dominique were going out. Claim: Shan pulled a knife out on Dominique. Fact: Dominique showed up crying and hysterical at the embassy. Who can poke a hole in this story? And so the lawyers meet; they nod their heads; all sides trade point for point, but theirs is the firmer narrative. Shan is a dork, beyond dorkiness. If he just says, 'look I pulled out a knife,' it's 30 days, maybe a letter in a file. People at Waseda are even trying to help him. But he's pig-headed, stubborn. He offers no explanation why Dominique would make up charges against him, although insists and insists and insists that she's making up everything out of whole cloth. LeFauve brings out “Rihanna Paciano,” a three-hundred pound pock-marked monstrosity, dispatched from Washington as special “Gender Affairs Officer” directly from the State Department.
“It’s simple, actually. Shan is a degenerate, primitive, Neanderthal male, one who hands out with notorious womanizers and alleged drug-users; he wanted Dominique LeFauve, his advances were rejected, and so he pulled out a knife. This is criminal behavior. He is clearly a
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