TOKYO -- Cases of bogus charges and false confessions seemed like a problem that was worlds away.

But one day, the promising 21-year-old musician was arrested over a robbery he had no memory of in the city of Izumiotsu, Osaka Prefecture. Eventually found innocent, the 302 days until he was freed gave him a taste of pain and isolation hard to put into words.

Though the experience threw his life out of gear, he decided to once more pick up the mic to teach others by sharing his rare experience.

A sudden home search, accusations of robbery

On Aug. 7, 2012, now 33-year-old Yusuke Doi got a call from his mom. "Come home quick," she said. Then a company employee in Osaka Prefecture, the shakiness of his mom's voice conveyed the seriousness of the situation.

An active rapper, Doi was set to debut in a group produced by a major entertainment label.

Upon returning to his family home, he was met with members of the Osaka Prefectural Police. A search of his home was in progress. He was shown an arrest warrant, and taken into custody on the spot.

The accusations stated that two months earlier, in the early hours of June 16, he committed robbery by taking 10,000 yen (around $66) from a cash register that an employee had left open at a convenience store near his family home.

He later noticed it was the store he often visited to buy cigarettes.

Despite being suddenly treated like a criminal, since he was innocent there was no way he was going to admit to the accusations.

Doi had written and composed songs about social issues. Perhaps because he knew of at least one famous case of false confession that was eventually cleared in a retrial, he was all the more confident that his innocence would stand.

However, that confidence faded as the days went by following the arrest.

Starting to think 'maybe I did it' after days of badgering

After being told by his lawyer to keep quiet, Doi didn't say a word about the case, even if he engaged in chit-chat with the detectives.

In the process of the interrogation, he learned from his lawyer that a suspect that resembled him was seen on the store's security camera footage and that his fingerprints were found on the automatic storefront door.

On the seventh day following his arrest, the detectives suddenly changed their tone.

"Is it really OK for you to not talk?"

He intended to stay silent as normal but at that moment another detective struck the desk and threatened him: "What the hell is that silence?"

That started days of verbal abuse. They made remarks such as, "Scum like you," "People around you are scum, too," "Your friends and family all say you did it."

Since he was forbidden from direct contact with anyone but his lawyer, he came to imagine what they were telling him was true. Maybe he did it when his memories blanked on him, he thought. He lost trust in himself.

Once the 20-day detention period was up, Doi was charged with larceny, the fingerprints on the door taken as evidence.

Proof of innocence found by family

The trial's first hearing was held in October 2012 at the Osaka District Court's Kishiwada branch. In contention was whether Doi was the one seen on the security video and how to interpret the finding of his fingerprints.

The key to proving his innocence was in a piece of evidence presented by the prosecution. Convinced Doi would not commit a crime just before debuting as an artist, his mother, along with the defense team, poured through security camera footage.

They found video of Doi touching the store's door. However, he was not wearing a mask at the time, and the footage was from June 11, five days before the robbery.

Doi's whereabouts on the day of the crime were also clarified. He couldn't remember right after his arrest, but he had been watching a soccer game with one or more friends at his own home, as a phone photo showed.

Despite that, the convenience store employee who confronted the robber appeared in the trial and pointed to Doi as the culprit. Doi was enraged.

When a verdict was cast in July 2014, Doi was found not guilty based on his alibi and the video found by his mother, and because the crime could not be proven by the employee's testimony. The prosecution did not appeal the ruling, and it was finalized.

Just say 'this is the culprit'

Days after being cleared, Doi happened to run into the store employee, who apologetically explained that the prosecutor had told them, "If you appear as a witness, you get a daily allowance. It's as simple as saying, 'This is the culprit.'"

Doi came to realize that once investigative authorities decide on a perpetrator, they press through with it no matter how the circumstances change.

He had been held in detention for 302 days before his release partway through the trial. Talk of his major debut faded, and his group split up. Even after his innocence was finalized, he could not reenter the entertainment agency. His reputation as a "robber" remained on the internet.

Thinking, "My life is ruined," the notion of suicide even crossed his mind.

The thing that helped ease his anguish and dissatisfaction from being treated so unfairly was his musical activity.

In fact, he didn't stop writing songs even while detained. As soon as he was freed on bail, he started to produce his own album, and held a live performance on the theme of ending false accusations. He started over under the name "Sun-dyu," incorporating the sunlight he could see through the iron bars of the detention center and parts of his name.

Doi was energized by his own experiences. People generally harbor the strong impression that false accusations are painful and burdensome, and tend to feel sorry for those who go through such experiences as victims, just as he did when he saw the news about them. For this reason, he wanted to feed on his own adversity and help the young generation take interest in the issue as something close to them, not worlds away.

On stage, Doi reflects on the interrogation scenes with humor, and intersperses his experiences in detention into the lyrics. While gaining attention for his activities, he has been asked to give speeches at events for lawyers' groups, organizations representing victims of false charges and others.

An unexpected apology

After searching for a job and starting to work for a company full time, Doi gained the understanding of his superiors to continue doing music. In his private life, he is now married and blessed to be a father.

In March 2022, almost eight years after his trial ended, the unexpected happened. Claiming they had found the "real culprit," the Osaka police offered him an apology.

According to the explanation from police, during the course of a reinvestigation, a different man was identified from fingerprints on a shopping bag taken from the scene. The person reportedly admitted to the crime under voluntary questioning. However, they said they did not proceed with an indictment because the statute of limitations had passed.

"We are truly sorry for causing you such a great inconvenience," said one or more police officials, bowing to him in apology. However, the investigators that interrogated him were not present. The apology affected Doi little because it seemed as though they did not appreciate the weight of throwing a person's life into turmoil -- and even getting their friends and family caught up.

Investigative bodies in Japan have been forcing suspects to make confessions in closed rooms for years. In 1966, in the former city of Shimizu, now part of Shizuoka, the capital of Shizuoka Prefecture, Iwao Hakamada, now 88, was subjected to the same technique. He falsely confessed to the murder of four people and ended up on death row before ultimately being cleared.

In the retrial where the Shizuoka District Court declared Hakamada not guilty in September 2024, his confession was deemed a "de facto fabrication" due to inhumane interrogation. The investigating authorities were strongly condemned.

How can the country rid itself of the interrogations that beget false confessions? Is it possible to eradicate the problem of false charges?

Doi will continue to ask himself these questions, and hopes to someday put the answers into lyrics for others to hear.

(Japanese original by Ran Kanno, Tokyo City News Department)