Risa Yamada grew up fatherless and struggled to find consistent work until she stumbled on an intriguing job listing: one of a growing number of advertisements posted on social media by Japanese criminal gangs.
Hired to impersonate a police officer, she thrived, wheedling hundreds of thousands of dollars out of Japan’s many lonely, wealthy and naive elderly people on the phone.
“I didn’t think I could ever work a normal job,” the 27-year-old told a Tokyo court in July before being sentenced to three years in jail.
Photo: AFP
“For the first time in my life, I was told I was good at something... the job made me feel I was needed,” she said.
The young woman was far from the only unlikely criminal to be attracted by a yami baito — a black-market part-time job — ad on X, formerly Twitter, and other platforms.
For Japan’s criminal underworld, social media offers an anonymous way to connect with anyone from teenagers to pensioners who are willing to commit crimes to earn money.
Damage incurred by yami baito crime rings and other organized fraudsters soared 30 percent last year from the previous year to top 37 billion yen (around US$250 million), the first increase in eight years.
GATEWAY
Black-market job advertisements have long appeared in Japanese magazines or on stickers in public toilets. But thanks to their proliferation online, recruiters now can “just relax in an air-conditioned room, sip coffee and use your mobile to assemble a group of robbers,” criminal sociologist Noboru Hirosue said. Online platforms, especially encrypted messaging apps like Telegram and Signal, also help gangs remain nameless and untraceable.
A 57-year-old former yami baito hiree described how his supervisor would direct him via Telegram to drop parcels of illicit cash in train station lockers in Tokyo.
“It’s like you’re in a video game, where you’re given tasks, complete missions and get rewards,” the man, who spent time in jail but now works at a hostel, said on the condition of anonymity.
At the end of each day, anonymous Telegram messages with emojis would thank him for his work and tell him where his day’s pay lay hidden, waiting for him.
“You don’t even feel guilty because you don’t see anyone,” he said.
CHAMPAGNE CELEBRATIONS
In January a 90-year-old Tokyo woman died after being tied up and beaten in her house by several men looking for valuables.
The perpetrators of the assault, which shocked Japan and focused police attention on the problem of yami baito crimes, had reportedly been hired through online ads.
The kingpins were a Philippines-based gang of Japanese men, who reportedly used Telegram to direct a team of underlings who carried out break-ins and fraud schemes across Japan.
Those hired to go into crime have varying reasons for doing so. But for a 31-year-old former low-ranking member of an organized fraud group, it was to “earn extra money so I can go a bit crazy.” Donning a suit, he would pose as a bank official and visit the homes of elderly people, convincing them to hand over their cash cards. The gig earned him nearly 10 million yen (US$66,000) in just a few months, he said.
“All I could think about was I could get wasted again that night... drinking expensive champagne at hostess bars.”
He was eventually jailed for two years.
EXPLOITED
Police have been scrambling to get criminal ads taken down and have offered rewards of up to 1 million yen (about US$6,600) for information on the gangs behind them.
Criminal recruits are being “exploited and disposed of as pawns” by gang leaders, the National Police Agency said in a statement. Of the roughly 13,100 people arrested on organized fraud charges between 2018 and last year, only two percent had occupied high-ranking gang positions, police records show. Tales abound of applicants being forced to disclose personal information about themselves and their families, including home addresses, in case they quit.
X could not be reached for a comment, and Telegram said it “proactively” monitors public parts of the platform and that users can report private groups.
Yamada found out how ugly things can get after she was sent an air ticket and flown to the Philippines in 2019 by the gang that had hired her on X.
There she and other recruits were trained to make hundreds of cold calls to elderly residents in Japan while cooped up in a hotel under close surveillance, fearing for their lives. She believes a fellow recruit was murdered.
When she was eventually arrested, she said, “I thought I would finally be set free.”
The Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), and the country’s other political groups dare not offend religious groups, says Chen Lih-ming (陳立民), founder of the Taiwan Anti-Religion Alliance (台灣反宗教者聯盟). “It’s the same in other democracies, of course, but because political struggles in Taiwan are extraordinarily fierce, you’ll see candidates visiting several temples each day ahead of elections. That adds impetus to religion here,” says the retired college lecturer. In Japan’s most recent election, the Liberal Democratic Party lost many votes because of its ties to the Unification Church (“the Moonies”). Chen contrasts the progress made by anti-religion movements in
Taiwan doesn’t have a lot of railways, but its network has plenty of history. The government-owned entity that last year became the Taiwan Railway Corp (TRC) has been operating trains since 1891. During the 1895-1945 period of Japanese rule, the colonial government made huge investments in rail infrastructure. The northern port city of Keelung was connected to Kaohsiung in the south. New lines appeared in Pingtung, Yilan and the Hualien-Taitung region. Railway enthusiasts exploring Taiwan will find plenty to amuse themselves. Taipei will soon gain its second rail-themed museum. Elsewhere there’s a number of endearing branch lines and rolling-stock collections, some
Last week the State Department made several small changes to its Web information on Taiwan. First, it removed a statement saying that the US “does not support Taiwan independence.” The current statement now reads: “We oppose any unilateral changes to the status quo from either side. We expect cross-strait differences to be resolved by peaceful means, free from coercion, in a manner acceptable to the people on both sides of the Strait.” In 2022 the administration of Joe Biden also removed that verbiage, but after a month of pressure from the People’s Republic of China (PRC), reinstated it. The American
This was not supposed to be an election year. The local media is billing it as the “2025 great recall era” (2025大罷免時代) or the “2025 great recall wave” (2025大罷免潮), with many now just shortening it to “great recall.” As of this writing the number of campaigns that have submitted the requisite one percent of eligible voters signatures in legislative districts is 51 — 35 targeting Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus lawmakers and 16 targeting Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) lawmakers. The pan-green side has more as they started earlier. Many recall campaigns are billing themselves as “Winter Bluebirds” after the “Bluebird Action”