Jailed in China (Pt. 2): Blindfolded and interrogated for 'spying' after airport arrest

In July 2016, Hideji Suzuki, the now 65-year-old director of a Japan-China youth exchange association, was detained by China's Ministry of State Security, which is tasked with cracking down on espionage. Suzuki remained incarcerated until Oct. 11, 2022. What was it like for him following his sudden arrest at the airport and detention for months without charges in a hotel room without sunlight? Below, the Mainichi Shimbun traces his ordeal, based on his testimony.

It was a hot summer day in Beijing on July 15, 2016. After meeting an acquaintance at a restaurant inside a hotel near the Japanese Embassy, Suzuki boarded a taxi, preparing to return home to Japan. At around 3 p.m. his taxi arrived at Beijing Capital International Airport, and he noticed a large white van parked nearby, with six well-built men standing next to it. He got out of the taxi, retrieved his luggage and started walking when a voice called out to him.

"Are you Suzuki?" one of the men asked him in Chinese. When Suzuki replied, "Yes," the men jumped on him. Though he weighed a hefty 96 kilograms, Suzuki was no match for them. They pushed him from the center of the van's three rows of seats into the back row and then in the back corner farthest from the door.

"Who are you people?" Suzuki demanded. One of them responded, "We're the Beijing Municipal Public Security Bureau." Suzuki asked for identification but was flatly told, "there's no need for that." He then asked again, "Why are you detaining me?" A slim man wearing glasses unfolded a piece of paper bearing the name of the bureau's chief. It authorized them to detain him on suspicion of espionage.

The man then forced a black eye mask onto Suzuki, and confiscated his mobile phone, watch and even his belt.

After they drove for what seemed like about an hour, he was led out of the vehicle, still blindfolded. They went into a building and took the elevator to an upper floor. Suzuki was then spun around several times. This was to confuse his sense of direction. He was walked down a corridor and into a room.

"Sit down," one of the men ordered. It felt like he was next to a bed. When he sat down, his eye mask was finally removed.

The interior was reminiscent of an old business hotel. When he looked up at the ceiling, he saw camera lenses covering the room in all directions. After a while he was ordered out of the room. He went into the hallway, and was led into room 504, diagonally across from room 502, which he had been in. It looked like the kind of interrogation room featured in movies. There was a table at the rear of the room, and three men were sitting down on chairs. They all were in casual attire. The one in the middle, a plump man, who appeared to be aged around 40, told Suzuki, "You're a spy," then said, "You are to call me "laoshi" (teacher).

The first day ended with an examination of Suzuki's belongings, after which he was sent back to room 502, along with two men guarding him.

"It's 10:30 p.m. You can go to sleep," he was instructed. But when he went to turn off the light, he was told. "You can't turn it off." As Suzuki remained sleepless, the two men were eventually replaced with two others.

"Get up." A voice roused Suzuki from a light slumber. There was no clock in the room so he had no idea what time it was. His breakfast consisted of a Chinese steamed bun, or "mantou." He sat on the bed and ate in silence. Silently staring back at him were two men. The heavy curtains remained closed, and though it was morning, inside the room it was as dim as nighttime.

Suziki was forbidden from seeking the services of a lawyer. He repeatedly requested that his captors contact the Japanese Embassy, and in his memory, it was on July 27 that a member of the embassy finally visited. But when he headed to the meeting room to see the staff member, the three people from the interrogation room were there, and they were filming the exchange. The embassy worker explained that Suzuki was under "residential surveillance," a procedure based on Chinese law. In reality, however, he was incarcerated. The embassy worker told him, "It's going to be a long battle."

As the interrogation progressed, Suzuki gradually came to understand the "suspicions" against him. A conversation that Suzuki had over a meal at a Beijing restaurant on Dec. 4, 2013, with a high-ranking government official (official A), whom he had met in Japan, was apparently seen as problematic.

The interrogator who had demanded to be called "teacher" was aware of this conversation with official A. One day he told Suzuki, "You talked about North Korea, didn't you? That was a sensitive topic, and it was illegal."

Suzuki's mind wandered back to his conversation. Immediately before he dined with the official, the South Korean government had announced it suspected that Jang Song Thaek, son-in-law of former North Korean leader Kim Il Sung, had been executed. Suzuki asked the official, "What do you think?" to which the official replied "I don't know."

Suzuki protested to his interrogators. "News on the execution had been publicly reported. And I was only told 'I don't know.' Why is that illegal?" The "teacher" responded, "If it hasn't been reported by China's state Xinhua News Agency, then it's illegal."

The interrogation sessions continued after this. Suzuki was not allowed to read and there was no TV. Pens and paper were also forbidden. And there was no one to talk to. Suzuki felt like he would lose his mind. Then one day, about a month after he was taken into custody, he told the "teacher," "I want to see the sun." He was told, "We'll discuss that, so wait."

The following morning, when he went to room 504, the interrogator told him, "You can have 15 minutes." He was led into the corridor of the hotel, and when he sat down in a chair placed there, he caught a glimpse of the sun. Tears brimmed up in his eyes. He then tried to approach the window, he was scolded and told, "No." This was probably because he would be able to see the surroundings of the building from the window, he guessed. It was a place shrouded in secrecy.

Fifteen minutes later, the emotionless voice of a man reverberated in the corridor. "Time's up."

(This is Part 2 of a series. The next article will be published at 9 a.m. on Nov. 12.)

(Japanese original by Mainichi Shimbun imprisoned Japanese nationals reporting team)