The Tenth Candle –
The Protestations, Denials, Confessions of the Accused, Convicted, Condemned Man in the Cell, as it really was?
This city is a prison. Its streets and its houses. This room is a prison. Its chair and its bed. This body a prison. My head and my heart.
And they were prisons long before I was convicted of the Teikoku Bank murders, before I was sentenced to death and locked up in this cell in this prison. For I was my own jailer.
My own judge. I was in hell then.
I am in hell now.
Some doctors and my defenders will tell you that I have K-disease, that this disease is the reason I was convicted of murder and sentenced to death, and that this disease has been and remains my first and true prison. And maybe it is true. But I really don’t know. I cannot say. For there are so many things I cannot remember. And there are so many lies I have told. But is this because I am a diseased person, or is it simply because I am a bad person –
Not a sick man, but a wicked man?
But I will tell you my story, neither for your pity nor for my own absolution. I will tell you my story for those who mistakenly but unconditionally once had the misfortune to love me –
For my ex-wife and for my children, those on whom I have brought only shame, for them and only for them.
My name, the name I was given, is Hirasawa Sadamichi. I was born, so I have been told and so believe, on 18 February 1892, in the Officers’ Residence of the Kempeitai Headquarters in Ōtemachi, KŌjimachi Ward, Tokyo.
Because my father was a member of the Military Police, he was stationed in China during the Sino-Japanese War; however, my mother and I remained in Tokyo. On Japan’s victory in the war, my father returned to Tokyo in the autumn of 1904, but was soon transferred to Sapporo in Hokkaido. This time the whole family went with my father and I was enrolled in the local elementary school.
After a short while, my father resigned from the Military Police and took a position in the Sapporo City Office. At this time, my mother began to run a stationery shop from our house.
Soon after I had enrolled in junior high school, my father was again transferred, and my family moved to the city of Otaru, Hokkaido, where many of them still remain to this day.
In elementary school, I had become interested in art and this became my sole interest and one passion in my junior high school, where some of my teachers recognized and encouraged my talent in drawing and in painting. And even at such an early age, I began to show my work in public exhibitions.
My father, though, with his military background and stern traditions, was disappointed in me and my failure to fulfil his expectations for me. He would have preferred that I study kendo and not painting, with a view to a military career not an artistic one. This brought great tensions to our household and to our relationship. I believe this pressure and stress caused the neurosis with which I was diagnosed and which in turn led to my two-year absence from school.
However, during my enforced absence from junior high school I was able to continue my studies of art and to further develop my talents. And as a result of my own private studies, and thanks only to the kindness and generosity of my mother, but very much against the wishes of my father, I was able to enrol in the Institute for Watercolour Painting in Tokyo.
At school in Tokyo, I experienced a sense of freedom and fulfilment which I had not felt before. However, I also greatly missed my mother and was always aware of my filial responsibilities. So upon graduation from the Institute for Watercolours, I returned home to Otaru and my parents.
I had now reached the age of twenty-four and it was at this time that I met my wife, who was also living in Otaru. However, and for many reasons, both of our parents were opposed to our marriage and so we were forced to elope to Tokyo. But through my wife’s devotion and entreaties, she was able to persuade our parents to accept our marriage and we were then able to return to Otaru. And again, thanks to my wife’s devotion and also her sacrifices, we were able to set up our own household from which I tried to make a living, privately teaching drawing and painting.
I now look back upon this period as one of simple happiness and blissful stability, for it was during this time that our first child was born and our life was at its best. At that time, however, I did not appreciate such happiness and stability. My pride and my vanity sought a wider recognition for my talent and my works, as well as bestial cravings for fame and money. So it was that, in November 1931, I moved back to Tokyo again. And so it was that things have turned out the way they have. Would that I had been content with what life had given me in Otaru. Would that I had not returned to Tokyo. But now, of course, it is too late for such regrets.
At first, I lived in my grandmother’s house in Koishikawa. But then, soon after, I was able to set up my own house in Nishigahara, where I was later joined by my wife and child. The portents and signs, however, were already visible, had I had the eyes and senses to see and read them; our new residence was soon burgled and I became consumed once again by neurosis and by paranoia. I insisted we move, this time to Komagome, where I also insisted our new house be next to the local kōban.
My art, however, blossomed. I achieved success and recognition for my work, the success and the recognition for which I had so long craved. We were able to buy some land and to construct a new house in Itabashi Ward. At first I shunned the company of other artists and I tried to lead a modest life. However, on moving to Itabashi, I now recognize that something changed within me.
I began to invite other artists to our home and I began to affect the airs of a ‘genius’, of a ‘maestro’, consumed only by his art, caring only for his talent. And I now see, now it is too late, that, after a short while, these traits were no longer affectations but had infected me and would soon ruin me. And also, more tragically, my family.
Some time before, my wife had been bitten by a stray dog and our entire family given vaccinations against rabies. It was the side-effects of this vaccination that some people believe caused my mental deterioration. As I have said, I am not sure. I cannot say. But things now rapidly began to disintegrate. In 1939 I began an affair with a gallery attendant. And later the very same year, our house in Itabashi Ward caught fire and was completely destroyed. And so we were forced to rent another house close by.
In order to deal with the stresses of my adultery and of the fire, I began to undergo shiatsu therapy. And I still believe to this day, that it was this shiatsu therapy which saved my life at this time. For it is also true that at this time I frequently contemplated suicide. No doubt for my ex-wife and for my children, given all that has happened since, it would have been better had I taken my own life then.
For things only continued to worsen.
In the early summer of 1940, the rented house in which we had been temporarily living also caught fire, though the damage was not extensive. However, I had had enough of Tokyo and I insisted that we all move back to Hokkaido in order that I might fully recuperate. So it was that we spent the remainder of 1940 in Hokkaido. Of course, this could not last. The lives of my wife and my children were now firmly rooted in Tokyo, not to mention the audience and patrons for my own work.
But on our return to Tokyo I was immediately arrested by the police and taken to Itabashi Police Station. There I was interrogated on suspicion of arson. And I admit, though I was innocent, I almost confessed. However, after one day, I was released.
My troubles in Tokyo, though, were far from over. My mistress had learned of my return to Tokyo and now visited our family home. She had come seeking consolation money. I paid her the money she wanted and the relationship was ended. However, this incident undoubtedly caused great distress to my wife.
But blinded by my own arrogance, by my own insensitivity, I learned no lessons from the pain I caused then and I merely continued in my hurtful and my selfish ways, arrogant and insensitive.
For soon I started another adulterous affair.
At around this time, the war also began.
During the years of the war, my family and I moved many times, sometimes through evacuation orders, sometimes through economic necessity. By the end of the war, my wife and my children were again living in Hokkaido. I had remained in Tokyo, making trips back to Hokkaido to visit my family.
These were hard years for everybody and my family was no exception, though they all survived.
With the end of the war, my family gradually returned to Tokyo. My son came first, and then my wife and my daughters. By 1947 we were all reunited and living in Nakano Ward.
Of course, Tokyo was a very different, very damaged city. However, my life continued much the same as it had done before. I continued to paint and to try to sell my work, supplementing my income with various other activities but often reliant on the money which my children were now able to earn.
My affair also continued.
This brings me now to the winter of 1947-48 and the time of the crimes of which I was accused, convicted and sentenced to die.
Of course, I have been over this period and these events many times with many people. But once again I must state, I give this account now, not in the hope of saving my own life, only in the hope of sparing my family further shame.
As well as the murders, attempted murders and robbery at the Teikoku Bank on 26 January 1948, I was also convicted of forgery and fraud. These crimes of forgery and fraud are the crimes of which I am guilty and of which I want to speak first as they are also crimes which have a bearing on the Teikoku Bank case.
Sometime in the autumn of 1947, I received a cheque for ¥1,000 from a person whose name I can no longer remember. That day, I had little money on my person and so I went to a branch of the Mitsubishi Bank in order to cash the cheque. However, on the way to the bank, I realized I had forgotten my own personal seal. And it was then that I made my first mistake. For rather than return home for my own seal, I went into a shop and had a seal made in the name of the person who had sent me the cheque. I then proceeded to the bank.
Inside the bank, I went to the counter and took a ticket. I then sat down on a bench and waited for the number on my ticket to be called. But beside me on the bench, I noticed another ticket, another number. At that moment, the number on this ticket was called and on instinct, without thinking, I stood up and approached the counter. This was my second mistake. For at the counter, I received ¥10,000 in cash. Of course, this was a huge amount of money and, moreover, it was not mine to receive. But I said nothing, took the money and sat back down to once again wait for my own number to be called. When my number was called, I received my ¥1,000 at the counter and immediately left the bank, still with the ¥10,000 I had received under false pretences, if somewhat by accident or chance.
Of course, I felt most guilty. Then suddenly I had what I believed to be a good idea. I caught a cab to Ueno Park and got out just below the statue of Saigō Takamori. I quickly went into the mouth of the subway station, where over two dozen homeless children were gathered as usual. Here I mumbled some Buddhist mantra as I distributed ¥200 to each of the children until I had finally gotten rid of the ¥10,000. And that, I hoped, was the end of that and I tried to think no more about what I had done.
However, about one week later, while searching through my coat pockets, I came across the bankbook which I had also received when I had taken the ¥10,000. I have no idea where this thought came from, or what on earth possessed me, but I thought I should use the money in this account for the benefit of the Society for Tempera Painters, of which I was a member and from which I had repeatedly been forced to borrow money. In fact, I confess I had embezzled money from the society and I now wished to cover up my crime. So I began to think of a way in which I could take the money out of the account, which was in the name of a Mr Hasegawa.
I visited a seal-maker again, and this time I had a seal made in the name of Hasegawa. I then doctored the bankbook using other seals to show that there was over ¥200,000 in the account. Finally, I visited a moneylender who was living in Ōmori. This first moneylender was obviously suspicious of me and refused my request to borrow money from him on the strength of the money shown in the bankbook. However, he introduced me to a second moneylender who agreed to write me a cheque for ¥200,000 to be cashed at the Ōmori branch of the Dai-Ichi Bank. I do not remember the exact date on which this all occurred but I do remember it was a Saturday afternoon, for I was unable to cash the cheque that day.
Early on the following Monday morning, I went to the Ōmori branch of the Dai-Ichi Bank in order to cash the cheque. However, the moneylender was waiting for me, having changed his mind, and so I was unable to cash the cheque. Two or three days later, though, I again tried to cash the cheque. This time I went into a jewellery shop and told the jeweller I wished to buy a gold ring and a small watch from him, totalling ¥140,000. I asked him if he would accept the cheque for ¥200,000 as payment. My plan, as foolish as ever no doubt, had been to then pawn the ring and the watch for cash and to use the money to repay the amount I had embezzled from the Society for Tempera Painters. However, the jeweller insisted on first telephoning the Ōmori branch of the Dai-Ichi Bank in order to verify the validity of the cheque. I told him I was going out to buy some cigarettes while he telephoned and, of course, I then fled as quickly as I could.
In the course of their investigations into me in relation to the Teikoku Bank case, the police uncovered this case of forgery and fraud. However, these are the only crimes of which I am guilty. I am innocent of all the other crimes for which I was convicted, beginning with the Ebara branch of the Yasuda Bank.
This incident occurred on 14 October 1947. However, I had nothing to do with it and I only confessed to it because I was convinced by the prosecutor that it was the right thing to do. I now regret making such a confession. Also, at that time, the time of my original confession, I had no alibi for the day in question. Now, however, I remember what I was doing on that day.
On the 13th of that week in October 1947, I was visited by my friend Mr Yamaguchi. He asked me to paint pictures of white chrysanthemums on twenty pieces of paper as gifts for guests at a wedding party which would be held that week. I agreed to his request and began to work hard on the paintings. The next day I was still hard at work painting the flowers when I was visited by Mr Watanabe. I remember he praised one of my other paintings and I promised to give him the painting in question. During Mr Watanabe’s visit, my wife and daughter Hanako were also present. Mr Watanabe left around 4 p.m. and my other daughter, Shizuko, met him on her way home. I remember this now because Mr Watanabe’s visit had interrupted my work on the wedding gifts and so I was still painting them the next day on the 15th, when Mr Yamaguchi came to collect them. So despite my confession, I had in fact been at home all day on 14 October 1947, the day of the so-called rehearsal at the Ebara branch of the Yasuda Bank.
Similarly, on 19 January 1948, the day of the second rehearsal at the Nakai branch of the Mitsubishi Bank, I also now realize that I had an alibi. The day before, I had had lunch at the home of Mr Yamaguchi and his family. I remember we ate udon and that we then played mah-jong until the early evening. The next morning I took a walk and I bought some yokan sweets. On returning home, I ate the yokan with my wife and I remember thinking that I should have taken the yokan as a gift the day before when I had visited Mr Yamaguchi and his family. I cannot remember anything else about that day, 19 January, except that I was working on a painting at that time.
As I said during my trial, I do admit to having been to the Nakai branch of the Mitsubishi Bank a few times. However, this was simply because it is near to the market stall of one of my friends, Mr Kazama. That is the only reason I have been to that particular bank and I was certainly not there on the day in question.
And then, of course, we now come to the day of the Teikoku Bank murders itself – 26 January 1948 – a day I had once forgotten but now remember and relive, over and over.
For a long time, from the time of my initial and supposedly routine questioning by the police, to the time of my arrest and official interrogation by the prosecutor, I simply and honestly could not recall what I had done on this day. And then, under questioning, I became confused as to whether certain events happened on that day or, say, happened the week before. For example, I knew that at around that time I had bought some charcoal briquettes from my friend Mr Yamaguchi. However, I was unsure in my own mind whether this had taken place sometime the week before, on 18 January say, or on the day of the actual Teikoku Bank murders. And this, then, was the reason why I later wrote to Mr Yamaguchi asking whether he could remember on which particular day I had purchased the briquettes from him. Not because, as the police and the press have since suggested, I was attempting to concoct a false alibi.
Similarly, I could not remember whether my visit to the exhibition of the Society of Watercolour Painters in the Mitsukoshi Department Store had been on 26 January or on some other day. Initially, I did believe it had been on that particular day. Of course, I now realize I was mistaken. But honestly, and for a while, I was sure I had visited the exhibition with my daughter on that afternoon. Hence, the chaotic and confused nature of some of my statements.
However, I now know that on the afternoon of that day – Monday 26 January 1948 – I went to Mr Yamaguchi’s office in Marunouchi. Then, at around 3:30 p.m. – the time of the actual crime – I called at Mr Yamaguchi’s house and I returned home at about 5:00 p.m. with the fifty or sixty pieces of charcoal I had bought. I remember that my wife and my daughter were at home when I arrived back with this heavy bag. Also, an American soldier who was friendly with my daughter was also there and we played cards and spoke English well into the evening. That is what I did that day.
The next day, which was 27 January, I do remember reading about the Teikoku case in the newspaper, or maybe hearing about it on the radio, and I also remember discussing it with my wife and my daughters. I distinctly recall asking them, ‘What kind of man could do such a cruel and inhuman thing?’
That day, the day after the Teikoku murders, was also my younger sister’s birthday and so I remember travelling out to Ichikawa to visit her. And I think it was then that I decided, on the urging of my sister, to go to Hokkaido to see my younger brother. He had been seriously ill for some time with pulmonary tuberculosis and I had been meaning to visit him. And thanks to the money I had recently received from two of my patrons, I now had the cash to visit Hokkaido. So upon leaving my sister’s home in Ichikawa, I think I went to a travel agent in Marunouchi to arrange passage from Yokohama to Hokkaido on the Hikawa Maru. Or perhaps that was the day after. Anyway, it all occurred around this time.
I am most aware, though, that the initial confused, even contradictory nature of my original statements to the police led them to be suspicious of me and to further investigate me.
However, the original reason that they spoke with me in regard to the Teikoku Bank murders was because of the name-card that I had been given by Dr Matsui.
Of course, when I was questioned, I immediately admitted to meeting Dr Matsui on the ferry from Hokkaido and exchanging name-cards with him the summer before. However, when asked by the police, I was unable to produce his name-card and so they believed that the card Dr Matsui had given me on the ferry was the one which must have been used at the Ebara branch of the Yasuda Bank by the criminal. This might be so, but it would not be because I was the criminal. It would be because Dr Matsui’s name-card was in my wallet when it was stolen from me at Mikawashima Station in September 1947.
I had kept the card Dr Matsui had given me, along with a dozen or so other business cards, in my wallet, which, incidentally, was a leather one and of the type that fold in half. And I kept this wallet in the inside pocket of my jacket. That day there was also ¥11,000 in cash inside my wallet. It is embarrassing to say, but I was on my way to visit the parents of a woman I knew in order to repay them ¥10,000 which she had lent me. The train, however, was very crowded and I remember that my bag got caught and that I could not easily get off the train at Mikawashima Station because of all the people and I had to pull the bag hard in order to get off.
It was only when I arrived at the house of the young lady’s parents and I reached for my wallet in order to repay them the money that I then realized I had been pickpocketed. And curiously, in the place where my wallet had been, there was now a lady’s fan. Of course, I immediately rushed back to the station and reported the crime to the local kōban. I also gave the police as evidence the lady’s fan which had been placed in my pocket. I believe this was a unique trait of that particular pickpocket, his trademark. The officers at the Mikawashima kōban kept the lady’s fan. Unfortunately, at that time, I said nothing of this incident to my wife because it would have meant admitting that I had been forced to borrow money from a female acquaintance, which would not only have been embarrassing for me but hurtful for my wife. And so I thought it best to say nothing.
Of course, I now realize that my various deceptions and my many lies to my wife and to my children, not to mention the complicated nature of my finances and many of my relationships, both business and personal, only served to further arouse the suspicions of the police as they continued to investigate and later interrogate me. Now it is a source of intense regret and deep shame to me that I told so many lies, that I created so many deceptions.
In particular, I realize that my financial dealings seemed somewhat irregular and suspicious. In fact, I freely admit now that my financial arrangements were often of a dubious and illegal nature. And I realize now that I should have confessed my financial wrongdoings to the police at the outset.
But as I have already said, this was partly because I had embezzled a sum of money from the Society of Tempera Painters. It was also partly because it involved money I had either borrowed or loaned to my mistress. Finally, there was also cash from some famous and important people who would not want their names mentioning to the police, least of all in connection to such a high-profile case as the Teikoku Bank murders.
To this end, I have kept money in various places. For example, in the sack along with my painting tools. Or in cloth bundles. Even in banks under assumed names such as Hayashi and so on. As a result, I often misplace money or entirely forget that I have even received it in the first place, hard as that may sound to believe. And as I say, most of this money, the money that was in my possession after the Teikoku Bank murders and which the police therefore suspected I had stolen from the bank, this money came from either my embezzlement of the Society for Tempera Painters, to which I did not wish to confess, or from my various patrons, whom I did not wish to involve with the police. Some of these men are of exceedingly high standing.
Anyway, because of the name-card I had exchanged with Dr Matsui, and because of my confused and contradictory alibis, and because of the large amounts of cash in my possession, and because of my sudden trip to Hokkaido that February, and even because of my appearance, I was arrested in August 1948 in Otaru, Hokkaido, and charged with the murders, attempted murders and robbery of the Teikoku Bank in Toshima Ward in Tokyo on 26 January 1948.
At first, the police had come to Otaru ‘just in passing’ and as a ‘matter of routine’; then the police started to come once a month, and again ‘just in passing’, as a ‘matter of routine’; then the police came once a week, not ‘just in passing’, not as a ‘matter of routine’; and then, finally, they came once a day until they never went away, until that August day when they took me away with them.
Now I can recall very little about that journey back to Tokyo, little except for the crowds and the heat, the blanket over my head and the darkness around me and within me. I do remember I was frightened, particularly by the crowds that met our train at Ueno Station. I remember worrying about my wife and my children, about what they must be going through, about what they must be thinking.
Similarly, those first days in police custody in Tokyo are now forgotten and lost to me, forgotten and lost in an accelerating whirlwind of entering rooms and leaving rooms, of sitting down and standing up, a nauseous blur of different voices from different mouths, an ever-more deafening crescendo of questions and accusations–
‘You are a bad man, you are a wicked man,’ said the voices. ‘Is it not possible you are also a murderous man, a killer?’
Some of the voices were aggressive, some of the voices were consoling but, whatever their motivation, whatever their tone, soon I began to feel as though I was being hypnotized.
And in my cell, I now had visions.
Each night, at the window in my cell, a tall man in a black mask appeared, pointing a foreign gun at me through the iron bars, and the man would whisper, ‘Confess. Confess. Confess …’
And then the dead, one by one, night after night, the Teikoku Bank Dead came to me and said, ‘You are a bad man, you are a wicked man we know. You are our murderer, our killer …
‘You should be executed, executed by potassium cyanide, to taste the pain we tasted, to suffer as we still suffer …’
Then finally, one night in September, as the prison clock struck midnight, the Buddha himself came to my cell and he said, ‘Hirasawa, Hirasawa, listen to me carefully. I know you sincerely wish to be cleansed of all your sins and I know you are not the killer, but in order to be truly cleansed of your own sins, you must willingly accept the sins of others. So confess, confess …’
I now believed I had only two ways to escape. I could either kill myself or I could confess. So first of all, I tried to kill myself. And three times I tried. First, I cut my left radial artery. Then, I drove my head into a pillar in the interrogation room. Finally, I swallowed five suppositories. But each time I failed to die. And I shed tears –
For I then knew only the other way now remained.
Still, it is hard for me to remember now, and so hard for me to fully explain, what exactly led me to confess to crimes I had not committed. For though I felt hypnotized by the voices, and though I was plagued by the visions, I had not been threatened and I had not been tortured. Nor was I coerced, though I suppose I felt persuaded by the visions, by the voices, that it would be for the best to confess, the best for my wife and for my children, and for my father back in Otaru. And so, one day that September, I confessed –
And not only to the Teikoku Bank murders, but to every bad thing, to every crime I could think of, including to the assassinations of Prime Minister Inukai and Baron Takuma Dan, the president of Mitsui, and every coup d’état I could remember.
And for a time, following my false confessions, the voices ceased and the visions left, and there was a strange silence and benign warmth around me as I learned and repeated the statements they wanted from me, as I copied and re-enacted the crimes they said I had done, in the silence and in the warmth.
I had, in fact, confessed to things I had not done, things of which I was innocent, before. Some doctors and my supporters have stated that such false confessions are a symptom of K-disease, a side-effect of the rabies vaccination. And maybe it is true. But I really don’t know. I cannot say. For such behaviour on my part, along with my repeated denials of the things I had done, the things of which I was truly guilty, predates my wife’s bite and my rabies vaccination and has, in truth, been a trait of mine since an early age, for as long as I can recall. Now I can only surmise that it was as though my mind was a rope, a rope made from two threads; one thread my true-self, the other my hypnotized-self, until that thread snapped.
For then, one day in November, it was as if I suddenly woke up. I remember I had just been served hot miso soup for my breakfast and as I took a sip, I heard a loud pop, as though a balloon had burst close-by my brain. And I suddenly recognized what I had done, what I was doing, and I suddenly thought, ‘I am incriminating myself, and not only myself, but all the people who love me, my wife and my children, my family and my friends.’ And I also thought, ‘And I am shaming the victims of the crime. I am protecting the real killer. What if the killer were to strike again, to kill more people?’ And I suddenly realized, ‘I must recant and apologize to the nation.’
Another way to explain what happened to me that morning would be to describe a stage, a stage where the curtain rises and the stage is bare, but there on the stage is an actor and the actor is naked before his audience. That is what I felt had happened to me now; that the curtain had risen and there I was –
Naked before the world –
Innocent, yet guilty –
And so I remain.
For as everybody knows, despite retracting my confession, I was found guilty and sentenced to death. And so, knowing each day may well be my last, I now live each day in a state of readiness and repentance; readiness for death by hanging and what will follow, repentance for the things I have put my wife and my children through.
My wife has divorced me. My children have disowned me. Rightly, they are ashamed of me and they deny me, deny that I am now or ever was their father. They have changed their name, the name I gave them, my name. They have abandoned and disowned that name, my name. But the blame, the fault, is all mine.
I should not have married. I should not have had children. Not being the person I am. I did not deserve my wife’s love. I did not deserve my children’s love. Not being the person I am. Not with all the things I have done, not with all the lies I have told.
Now my ex-wife hates me. Now my children hate me. Being the person I am. My wife believes I am guilty. My children believe I am guilty. Being the person I am. And though I am innocent of the crimes my wife and my children believe I committed, I am still guilty. Being the person I am. Guilty of so many other crimes. Guilty of so many other lies. Being the person I am –
A bad and wicked person.
And though I know many kind people do believe I am innocent of the crimes of which I have been convicted, though I know many people work tirelessly to clear my name and to save me from this death sentence, and though I know these same people would be upset, even angry, to read these words, I must confess:
I am resigned to my fate.
For though I am innocent of the Teikoku Bank murders, I am guilty of so many other crimes. Crimes against my wife, crimes against my children, crimes against their hearts. And I truly believe I deserve to die for these bad things I have done, the terrible hurt I have caused them, the lies I have told them. In short, for the life I have led.
The sole reason, therefore, that I allow and I assist in the attempts and the appeals to clear my name and save me, is for the sake of my ex-wife and my children; that their reputations may be restored, and that they may once again live not in fear or in shame.
And that then is the only reason I have told this story, that I have said these words. But these words I have said are not for me. These words are only for those who once loved me, my ex-wife and my children. For I do not seek your pity. And I do not seek the truth. For I do not deserve your pity. I do not deserve the truth.
Beneath the Black Gate, in its upper chamber, between the three candles, the old man now bows his head,
and another candle gutters,
gutters and then
dies–
‘No!’ you are screaming. ‘No, no! Come back! Come back! There’s more to say. There must be more. That can’t be all. That can’t be it. Please, please! Come back! Come back!’
But the flame of the candle is out, its light is gone, and the old man is fading; fading, fading, fading –
’No!’ you shout again – ’
There’s so much more I want to know, much more I need to know. No! No! What about the trials, the appeals? The conspiracies, the experiments, the war? Help me! Please help me to help you!’
But in the dim-light of the last two candles, the old man is shaking his head; fading, fading –
‘Wait! Wait! I know you did not murder those people. I know you were never there. I know you were never at the bank. But help me, please! Please help me to help you. For I want to tell your story. I want to prove your innocence, to clear your name …’
For now you see, now the old man is fading, going and now gone, now you see and now you know, know what it is,
what it is you want; just the truth –
Not the fiction. Not the lies –
Only the truth –
Tear by drop-drop, foot by step-step, hoping there is still time; still two candles, in this upper chamber, beneath the Black Gate; still two last candles, tear by drop-drop, foot by step–
step, your head now turning, this way,
that way, turning again, and again –
Tear by drop-drop, foot by step-step, for you are not alone, beneath the Black Gate, in this upper chamber,
between these two candles, drop–
drop, step-step, drop–
drop, step–
step–
‘We are all in our cages, our cells and our prisons,’ says a voice in the shadows. ‘Some by the hands of others –
‘Of our own design …’
This way, that way, left and then right, you turn and you turn again, looking with the candlelight, searching through the shadows,
step-step, right and then left, step-step, that way and this,
step-step, looking, step-step, searching, step–
step, for the author of these words –
‘Are you my judge? The man who will accuse me? Accuse and convict me? Sentence and imprison me? Imprison or execute me? Is that you, my dear writer, is that you?’
Beneath the Black Gate, in its upper chamber, in the candlelight, now plague-light; white-light, hospital-white, laboratory-white then grey, an overcast-skin-grey then open-vein-blue, blue and now green, a culture-grown-green then yellow, yellow, thick-caught-spittle-yellow, streaked sticking-string-red, then black;
black-black, drop-drop, black-black,
step-step, in the plague-light,
drop-drop, step-step,
in the plague–
light–
‘Would you sit at my table of rotting food?’ whispers the voice in the shadows. ‘Would you dine with me, drink with me, and then enter a large black cross beside my name? Is that your plan?’
This way and that, you turn and turn and turn, drop-drop, step-step, you huff and breath-puff –
‘Is that what you want, my dear writer? Is that what you seek, here beneath this Black Gate, here among your melting candles?’
You puff and breath-pant, you pant and now-gasp,
for he is coming, step by step-step, whispering and muttering. In your ears, you hear him gaining, step by step-step,
drooling and growling, step by step-step,
A Night Parade of but One Demon …
Half-of-monster, half-of-man, you can smell him, you can sense him, but still you cannot see him,
still you can only hear him, whispering and muttering, drooling and growling –
‘Every society needs people like you, dear writer, people who will weep at their mother’s funeral. But a truly great man will always, already place himself above the events he has caused –
‘A man like me. And so behold –
‘In this city. In this mirror –
‘Here I am …