“9 Years of Underground Work”: A Daily Wage of Up to 750,000 Yen… A Former “Mule” Who Was Arrested and Fired from Her Job Talks About Where She Is Now After Her Downfall

Yusuke Kiriyama (pseudonym) worked as a “money runner” for a specialized fraud ring for nine years, withdrawing up to 25 million yen a day and earning a maximum of 750,000 yen in compensation.

However, following a series of account freezes and police investigations, he was finally arrested. In this second part, he discusses his life after being fired and his lingering obsession with illegal work.

Click here for Part 1, in which a man who spent many years as a “cash runner”—withdrawing money stolen in sophisticated fraud schemes from ATMs—confesses to his methods

The Downfall of Illegal Part-Time Work and Its Lingering Addiction

“My first deposit was about 1 million yen, but as I gained their trust, the amounts gradually went up. Maybe because so many people get scammed, New Year’s was really busy—I was withdrawing over 10 million yen every day during the first three days of the year. I had ‘part-time work’ five or six days a week, with an average daily wage of about 200,000 yen.

I’d clutch my pay and head straight to a hostess club in Kabukicho. No matter how much I spent, I still had money left over. Whenever I went out drinking with friends, I always picked up the tab. Everyone knew I couldn’t possibly afford that lifestyle on my regular salary, but no one ever questioned me.”

But that lifestyle couldn’t last forever—about two years ago, Mr. Kiriyama started receiving calls on his cell phone from unknown numbers.

“They were all area codes I’d never seen before, and when I looked them up, they were all local police departments. My ‘part-time job’ bank accounts kept getting frozen one after another, until I had no choice but to use my main personal account.”

“The inevitable has finally come,” he thought, steeled for what was to come. A week later, investigators from the Yamagata Prefectural Police visited Mr. Kiriyama’s home. He was summoned to the nearest police station for questioning.

“They didn’t scold me. They asked me only two things: ‘Do you realize you’ve committed a crime?’ and ‘Do you know who the “higher-ups” are?’ I just withdrew the money and handed it over—I didn’t know what the money was for, so I didn’t realize I was committing a crime. As for the ‘higher-ups,’ I only communicated with them via Telegram, so I don’t know who they are. That’s what I told them.”

The investigator told Mr. Kiriyama, “We’ll be in touch. Stop committing crimes,” and sent him home. After that, he received several calls from the investigator but ignored them and left his home.

“I didn’t want to get caught, so I took only the bare minimum of belongings and commuted to work from a hotel. Then, finally, the police called my workplace asking, ‘Is Kiriyama coming in tomorrow?’… So I took a long leave of absence from the company and fled.”

He moved from hotel to manga café, spending his days drinking from morning on. Even after telling his “supervisor” that he’d been questioned by the police, he continued working his “part-time job.” He said he never had any financial difficulties.

However, about two months later, Mr. Kiriyama was arrested at a hotel in Hachioji where he had been staying for several nights in a row. He was taken to the Yamagata Prefectural Police—who had received a police report regarding the incident—and placed in a detention cell.

“They showed me security camera footage of me withdrawing cash, but since it was just the two of us withdrawing the money and I wasn’t even in disguise, they believed me when I said I didn’t know what the money was for.”

He was released after about two weeks, but, naturally, he was fired from his job. The contact information for everyone related to the “part-time job” had also been completely erased from his cell phone.

“When I Google my real name, ‘fraudster’ comes up. It’s what they call a ‘digital tattoo.’”

Mr. Kiriyama is currently working at a small factory owned by an acquaintance under a pseudonym, but he says, “Even working seven days a week, my monthly salary is only 200,000 yen.”

“There are hundreds—maybe even thousands—of victims related to my bank account… I don’t know when I might be sued and detained again. I heard the statute of limitations for fraud is seven years. I have no choice but to continue living like this for another five or six years.”

Do you have any regrets about getting involved in the underground job market? When asked this, Mr. Kiriyama answered immediately.

“Not even a millimeter. As soon as I can open a bank account again, I want to go back to that life.”

Perhaps the true horror of these underground jobs lies in the lack of guilt and their powerful addictiveness.