A Day When My Son Was Crying a Lot

essay

My son grabs my index finger and tries to pull me towards his bed. I’m sitting in front of my Mac, finally getting time at night to work on my writing, but he grabs my arm as I type and tugs repeatedly. Eventually, I give in and get pulled to his bed, where I read picture books in a wonderland of toy cars and blocks spread out over the futon.

Today, whether it’s bath time or mealtime, he keeps crying and pulling me over. It’s as if he’s afraid I’m going to leave, clinging to me constantly. As a father, this is something I can’t help but cherish.

A Very Active Tax Office

It seems the tax office wants to know the financial flow of SumoPay at that time. To be more precise, they seem to genuinely believe I’ve hidden 2.1 billion yen, just as reported. That’s the impression I got when I spoke to Mr. S from the tax office on the phone on 9/12. The key phrase was “tax evasion.”

Let me make it clear—I don’t have 2.1 billion yen. Yes, I earned a substantial amount in a short time, but that was solely compensation for the system development I did as a programmer. As of 9/13, all my bank accounts have been frozen by the police, and even if the tax office is frustrated by their inability to act, they won’t find any hidden money.

Why? Because I declared all my earnings and had the help of three tax accountants to file my taxes. There’s nothing unreported or illegally earned.

The Police Were Disappointed Too

I lived in a high-rise apartment. I believe the first raid was on 1/26/2023. They searched the entire place, and my wife voluntarily told them where the safe was.

“We found a safe!”

The excited investigators demanded to see inside. When we opened it… there were just five small envelopes with gifts for our newborn baby. Then one of the investigators asked, “Where’s the title deed to the condo?” I replied, “I don’t have one—this is a rental.”

The image they had of me must have been something like this: a man living in luxury with billions in a safe and the deed to a condo. But at the time, our financial situation was so bad that I was even considering applying for welfare.

The police are to blame. They spread misleading stories through the media, portraying me as the “de facto owner” of everything, which led to all this misunderstanding. Some staff at the time might have referred to me as “president,” but not everyone involved with SumoPay saw me as the top figure. That’s only natural since I was just following orders.

Tax evasion? Ridiculous. If I had that kind of money, I would’ve given retirement bonuses to everyone who worked for SumoPay and treated them well.

The same kind of misunderstanding could be heard during my conversations with the tax office employee.

“Um… I don’t have 2.1 billion yen.”

I’m not the ringleader, nor am I the owner of SumoPay. My earnings were only a tiny fraction of what the ringleader made, and just a small portion of the entire payment processing revenue. It doesn’t make sense to report that I and developer N are the “de facto owners.”

Hardship

Honestly, it’s been tough trying to get my life back on track. All of my bank accounts are frozen. The only one I can still use is the Japan Post account I had in college, but it’s been such a hassle managing money, receiving, or sending funds.

I even learned how to charge my SUICA with cash for the first time this year. Credit cards? They’re useless. Some financial institutions even treat me like I’m involved with organized crime. I’m losing touch with society—it’s really hard.

Donations

If anyone feels sorry for me, please donate something. Oh, how miserable I am. I worked on the system for an overseas payment business, got used, then thrown away. The police fabricated testimonies, ruining my relationships.

A loser.

If anyone pities me, at least buy me a meal.

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