“His Hobby Was Domestic Violence”—Shocking Testimonies From the Front Lines of Child Abuse

[Part 1: “Abe’s Assault Incident” Sparks Widespread Criticism After Eldest Daughter’s Letter — The Harsh Reality Facing Child Consultation Centers]

“I’m currently responsible for 170 cases, and I don’t get home until late at night almost every day. It’s routine for parents to pretend they’re not home during visits or to hurl abuse and insults at us. Some even allude to their criminal records and threaten us, saying things like, ‘You won’t get away with this.’”

The speaker is Keita Yasuda (pseudonym, 31), who works at a child consultation center in the Kansai region. Yasuda majored in sociology at university and originally worked as a general administrative employee, but three years ago he was reassigned due to a staffing shortage at child consultation centers. After one year of practical experience, he obtained the qualifications required to serve as a child welfare officer. Since then, however, he says the job has been an unrelenting physical and mental burden.

“For someone like me, who didn’t originally have specialized training, the reality of child abuse was far harsher than I had imagined. I’ve had to rescue infants covered in their own waste from garbage-filled rooms. I’ve seen toddlers with multiple fractures all over their bodies, including ankles bent in the opposite direction. The job can also put staff members’ lives at risk. One female employee had kerosene poured on her by a parent and was nearly set on fire.”

When conducting potentially dangerous on-site investigations, staff wear stab-resistant vests. Unlike police officers, however, they are not permitted to carry weapons. For that reason, the government has increasingly encouraged cooperation with police, who possess enforcement powers, as well as collaboration with lawyers who can provide legal expertise.

“You snitched to the police”

Not all child welfare workers support close cooperation with law enforcement.

Takashi Nojima (pseudonym, 40), who works at a child consultation center in the Hokuriku region, argues that forced intervention can sometimes strengthen parents’ resistance and distrust, ultimately making situations worse.

“After receiving a report of abuse, we first gather information and conduct assessments to determine the level of urgency. We then decide whether the child should be removed from the home or supported while remaining there. In either case, building a relationship with the parents is crucial.”

Temporary protection facilities around Japan generally have a capacity of only about 30 children and are almost always full. As a result, the overwhelming majority of abused children continue living at home.

“Providing ongoing guidance and monitoring for parents is absolutely essential. If they come to resent us and think, ‘You snitched to the police,’ they stop cooperating. Some take their children and disappear, beyond our reach, where even more severe abuse may occur.”

From a common-sense perspective, many people would say that children should simply be removed from abusive homes and placed in care facilities as quickly as possible.

However, as noted above, most temporary shelters have no available space. Even when a child can be placed in a residential care facility, Nojima says, that doesn’t mean the problem is solved.

“Children who grow up without receiving proper affection often struggle to build healthy relationships and may have difficulty adapting to group living. Bullying between children, sexual misconduct, and favoritism by staff can occur. There are also many cases where children placed in care are later rejected by their parents and end up completely alone.”

“Some situations absolutely require institutional placement. In others, children remain at home while the consultation center continues guiding the parents and helping them learn healthier ways of relating to their children. We never stop asking ourselves what is truly best for each child.”

So what do the people at the center of these cases—the children who experienced abuse and were taken into protective custody by child consultation centers—actually think?

Hit with a frying pan dozens of times

Muraoka Mana (pseudonym, 25), who was taken into protective custody with her sister—two years older than her—when she was in sixth grade and lived in a children’s home until age 18, recalls:

“There were unpleasant things about living in the facility too, but home was a hundred times worse. It was hell.”

“My father was the kind of person for whom domestic violence against my mother and abusing his children seemed like a hobby. He would fly into a rage over the smallest things. My sister and I would be forced onto our hands and knees on the floor, and he would strike our backs and buttocks dozens of times with a frying pan. The pain was so intense that I felt like I might pass out, and sometimes I even lost control of my bladder.

But once we put our clothes on, the injuries weren’t visible. No one around us noticed, and I never thought about asking anyone for help. If my father found out I had told someone, not only I but also my mother and sister would suffer even worse abuse. That fear kept me silent.”

The severe abuse came to light after her sister, then in the second year of junior high school, became pregnant—a result of sexual abuse by their father.

Following intervention by child welfare authorities, her sister received medical treatment, while her mother entered a support facility for women and children. After her parents divorced, her mother’s deteriorating mental health led to hospitalization, and the two sisters were placed in a children’s home. Muraoka later graduated from a vocational school and found employment in the welfare sector.

Her sister married four years ago. Muraoka now lives modestly in public housing with her mother, whose health has improved. Even so, the trauma of their past has never fully disappeared.

“Some people say things like, ‘Beating children is a form of parental love,’ or ‘My father’s iron fist straightened me out.’ But isn’t that only because they’re adults now and no longer afraid of their parents? Back then, I was terrified of my father and obeyed him like a slave. I often thought, ‘It would be easier if I were dead. I wish he would just kill me.’”

“Death would be easier. I’m a burden. My parents hit me because it’s my fault. I have no one on my side.” Such thoughts are often heard from children trapped in abusive environments.

The case involving former Yomiuri Giants manager Shinnosuke Abe (47), mentioned in the previous article, has brought renewed attention to child welfare services and parent-child conflicts. The author concludes by urging readers to deepen their understanding of child abuse, so that children—who lack power, money, safe places, and avenues of escape—are not pushed further into despair by the logic and actions of stronger adults.