Journalist Itō’s Shiori’s journey is a story of survival—not just of an assault that should have never happened, but of an entire system that seemed engineered to erase her existence. Her documentary, Black Box Diaries, has been nominated for an Academy Award —the first time a documentary made by a Japanese national has been so honored.
While the rest of the world is praising her courage, she has been subject to petty and vicious attacks by many in Japan. When you know her story, it’s easier to understand why.
[日本語版] 伊藤詩織の裏切り：正義の味方は誰でしょうか
The background
Here is what happened to her briefly.
In 2015, Itō Shiori was possibly drugged and definitely raped at the Miyako Sheraton Hotel by Yamaguchi Noriyuki, a former Washington DC, bureau chief for Japan’s TBS Broadcasting. Yamaguchi was also the biographer of Prime Minister Shinzo Abe.
Shiori asked the police to investigate. At first, they tried to dissuade her from filing charges. When she persisted, one detective on the police force became her ally and relentlessly pursued the case. Eventually, the local police were able to obtain an arrest warrant on charges of rape, and just as they were about to apprehend Yamaguchi, the arrest was halted.
Who stopped it? Nakamura Itaru, who was the head of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s Criminal Affairs Division. Previously, Nakamura served as an executive secretary to Prime Minister Suga Yoshihide , a close ally of Prime Minister Abe Shinzo and his successor. Nakamura stopped the investigation into her rapist and actually withdrew the warrant for his arrest. He then removed all the investigators originally on the case and more or less took it over himself. The investigation was scuttled; the prosecutors dropped it.
Years later, Nakamura appeared to be rewarded for his job covering up the rape. Abe appointed him head of the National Police Agency, the highest position in Japan’s police force.
Meanwhile, Itō Shiori fought to overturn the decision of the prosecutors and lost.
She sued Yamaguchi for damages in civil court and won. The court agreed: she had been raped.
When she reported her rape to the police in 2015, she was met with a shrug and a reminder that, in Japan, such things are best left forgotten. When she insisted on checking the security footage of the hotel, she saw herself, limp and unconscious, being dragged into a hotel room like cargo.
As we all know now, and as Shukan Shincho has meticulously reported, when the investigation finally gained momentum, it was shut down at the highest levels of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police. The message was clear: the system wasn’t broken. It was working exactly as intended.
This is the landscape in which Black Box Diaries was born—not as a film about rape, but about everything that followed: the gaslighting, the indifference, the crushing institutional weight designed to silence her. And now, after nine years of unrelenting work, after the documentary has gained international recognition, who shows up to put the final knife in her back? Her own former lawyers and one more lawyer.
The lawyers’ allegations: When legal ethics become a weapon
The three attorneys, Tsunoda Yukiko, Nishihiro Yoko, and Tsukuda Katsuhiko, have emerged as the unlikely antagonists in this saga, brandishing accusations of ethical breaches like cudgels. They held a press conference last October which served to, more or less, block the showing of the film in Japan.
At another press conference on February 20th, they more or less admitted that they were not willing to let the film be shown in Japan and let public discourse decide the merits of the film. They argued that showing it here was harmful.
Their grievances include:
- Unauthorized Use of Hotel Security Footage: Itō, they claim, broke an agreement by including surveillance footage of her being dragged into a hotel room. This, they argue, is a violation of privacy laws, an agreement to only use the film in court, and could deter future cooperation from hotels in similar cases.
- Inclusion of Private Conversations: The film features the voice of an investigator and a taxi driver, individuals who did not explicitly consent to being part of the documentary. At least, they did not consent according to the lawyers.
- Recording Conversations with Her Own Lawyer: The most dramatic claim is that Itō recorded a conversation with Nishihiro without consent and used it in the film—a supposed violation of attorney-client trust.
These are serious accusations, but let’s be blunt: they reek of a distraction, an attempt to shift the narrative away from the real issue. In their obsession with legal minutiae, these lawyers have lost the plot. Worse, they’ve done something far more damaging: they have publicly undermined their own former client, reinforcing the very systems of intimidation and isolation that make sexual violence cases nearly impossible to prosecute.
Who’s really objecting?
I have contacted the owner of the hotel where the crime took place, Marriott International, and repeatedly asked if they have objections to the film. They have expressed none. The producers of the film said that they contacted the hotel before the film was shown. At no point does the hotel seem to have had an issue with the release of the footage.
In an article published in The Okinawa Times, a Japanese professor of international human rights argues convincingly that the hotel has a duty to rescue a victim of sexual assault.
Professor Sugawara Emi of Osaka University of Economics and Law, an expert in the field of “Business and Human Rights,” commented from the perspective of someone who understands international human rights law:
“Hotels, in general, are businesses with a high risk of becoming sites of sexual violence. That is precisely why they have a responsibility to implement preventive measures, establish reporting mechanisms, and, in the unfortunate event that such incidents occur, cooperate in providing relief to victims. This includes promptly providing security camera footage to victims.
“Regarding Ms. Ito’s film, there is a debate that ‘if unauthorized use of footage occurs, other hotels may stop providing it, which could impact future victim support efforts.’ However, cooperation in victim relief is not merely an act of goodwill by hotels—it is a social responsibility.
“To prevent businesses that facilitate sexual violence from being tolerated, it is essential for business partners, financial institutions, and consumers to carefully assess hotels’ attitudes and efforts toward human rights.”
Marriott International, when asked about their policies, responded:
Marriott International is fully committed to the safety and well-being of our guests. We are committed to complying with all local laws and strive to maintaining the highest ethical standards. When we are made aware of reported incidents, we will work closely with the local authorities to facilitate any investigation to the extent permitted under laws, including providing information required by laws.
They were given multiple opportunities to express issues with the film and have made no protest.
Moral high ground?
Is the security film usage really unauthorized? Who, in fact, is upset with this film being used to prove what happened?
It’s a great thing to stand on a high horse and talk about ethics. But there does seem to be some hypocrisy on behalf of this trio claiming moral high ground.
Some have accused the lawyers of violating the Duty of Confidentiality (守秘義務) – Article 23 of the Attorney Act. Lawyers are legally bound to keep client information confidential, even after the lawyer-client relationship has ended. Violating this duty could lead to criminal liability (up to six months in prison or a fine of up to ¥500,000) and disciplinary action by the bar association.
At the press conference held at the Foreign Correspondents Club of Japan last Thursday, Nishihiro insisted that this was not the case. But there is also this very yakuza-like sounding Duty of Loyalty (誠実義務). According to the JFBA (Japan Federation of Bar Association) Rules, even after representation ends, lawyers are expected not to act in a way that harms the interests of a former client. Publicly criticizing a former client, especially in a way that could harm their reputation, might be seen as a breach of good faith obligations.
They could argue that doing so is in the public interest. But who really benefits? And what harm do their actions cause?
What woman seeking civil or criminal justice after sexual assault is going to be comforted by the actions of these lawyers?
Itō’s response: The duty of a journalist, the reality of a survivor
Itō, in her official statement (Itō Shiori Press Conference Statement, Feb 20, 2025), is careful, deliberate. She doesn’t shy away from the criticisms, even acknowledging that she did not receive formal permission from the hotel to use the security footage. But as she puts it:
“The security footage from the hotel is the only visual proof of the sexual assault I endured. Without this footage, the police would not have acted.”
She altered the footage to obscure details, but the movements of herself and the perpetrator remained. Why? Because to do otherwise would be to erase the reality of what happened. This isn’t just a creative decision—it’s an act of survival.
As for the recorded conversation with Nishihiro, Itō is contrite. She apologizes for not consulting the lawyer before including the recording and acknowledges that this was an oversight.
But let’s put that in perspective: this was a conversation about a doorman’s testimony, not a deep, strategic legal discussion. The real betrayal here is not Itō recording the conversation but Nishihiro turning around and using this as a cudgel against her former client.
The real damage: When lawyers help the system win
Legal ethics are meant to uphold justice, not sabotage it. Lawyers are bound by a duty of confidentiality, which doesn’t just mean keeping their client’s secrets; it also means not actively harming their former clients. Publicly denouncing Itō at the moment her work is gaining international recognition isn’t just unethical—it’s cowardly.
These lawyers claim to be acting on principle. But let’s ask the real question: whose principles? Because it sure as hell isn’t justice. If their real concern was about legal ethics, they could have addressed these issues quietly within professional circles. They could have sought mediation, consultation, and resolution. Instead, they made a public spectacle out of their grievances, effectively assisting the very forces that tried to silence Itō in the first place.
It’s no secret that sexual assault cases in Japan are a nightmare to prosecute. The conviction rate is abysmal, victims are routinely discouraged from coming forward, and institutions from law enforcement to the media to the courts have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo. The reason Black Box Diaries matters is because it rips the lid off this system, exposing its failures and demanding accountability.
So when these lawyers clutch their pearls about legal procedure, we have to ask: who benefits?
Because it isn’t the victims. It isn’t justice. And it sure as hell isn’t Itō Shiori.
Who are the good guys here?
I first met Itō Shiori’s lawyers in 2017. I have great respect for them and still do now. The original reports of her rape and the cover-up were first reported in a series of articles in Shukan Shincho. It is a publication for which I have also written and been interviewed by in the past. When Ito decided to ask for a prosecutorial review, she wished to hold a press conference at the Foreign Correspondents Club of Japan.
We (the club) refused. I was appalled.
Mari Yamamoto and I decided to follow up on the case and wrote the first reports in the Western media for The Daily Beast. We followed the story for years. I have come to consider Itō Shiori to be a hero and a friend.
So if you’d like to know, am I biased? Yes, I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong or that she’s wrong.
I have always had concerns about the safety and the career of the police officer who took her side; he is an unsung hero. However, the documentary only covers ground that was already covered in her book, Black Box, published years ago. And his voice has been altered so that no one could recognize it.
Who are the good guys in this story?
The detective. He’s a good guy. Yes, he was reluctant to take the case at first. However, in the end, he had more courage than most people will have in their whole lives. He’s a good guy. Because of the civil servant laws in Japan–he can’t even comment on the film without risking being fired or prosecuted for violations of the law (duty of confidentiality).
The taxi driver was originally fine with the film. However, due to the controversy and vitriol generated by her own former lawyers–perhaps he is having second thoughts. No one wants to be attacked in the media.
The changemakers
Here’s what we know: Black Box Diaries is a film about a broken system. A system that protects perpetrators, shames victims, and punishes those who dare to speak. The lawyers who have turned on Itō are no longer part of the solution. They have chosen, whether out of professional ego, misplaced ethical zeal, or something more insidious, to become part of the problem.
Itō Shiori did not make this film out of vanity. She made it because she had to. Because there was no other way to document the failures she endured. Because without it, the truth would be locked away in the same black box where so many other survivors’ voices have been trapped.
So, who are the good guys here? They are the ones who push for change, not those who cling to a rigid and weaponized version of legal ethics. They are the ones who protect survivors, not those who find ways to discredit them. And they are the ones who, when faced with the choice between bureaucracy and justice, choose justice every time.
In the end, the real ethical question is this: what does justice look like? If it looks like a film that tells the truth, even when inconvenient, then Black Box Diaries is justice. And if it looks like lawyers are torpedoing their own client at the moment of her greatest impact, then the legal profession should take a long, hard look in the mirror.
Itō Shiori stood up against a system designed to break her. And now, as her own former allies attempt to cut her down, she is still standing. That, more than anything, is why her story matters.
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