Reading Juveniles' Atonement (3) — What Is PTSD Experienced by an Offender? — July 1, 2026 (Wed.) Reiwa 8
Today, I read Chapter 3 of Juveniles' Atonement by Dr. Tatsuko Aoshima.
This chapter tells the story of a young offender who caused the death of a one-year-old child.
It was heartbreaking to read.
If we look only at the crime, we simply see "an offender."
In the past, whenever I heard about brutal crimes committed by juveniles, I often found myself thinking, "Shouldn't they receive much harsher punishment?"
From the perspective of the victim and the victim's family, I believe that is a very natural reaction.
However, this chapter asks the reader to look one step further.
The young man had grown up surrounded by violence and had never known genuine love. The first person who truly needed him was little Yuta, a one-year-old boy.
"When Yuta smiled, I found myself smiling too."
That sentence has stayed with me.
Yet, because of many overlapping factors—including drug dependence, prolonged exhaustion, overwhelming financial hardship, and the trauma of childhood abuse—he eventually committed an irreversible crime.
Dr. Aoshima carefully describes how the young man later developed symptoms of PTSD.
The memories of the crime returned repeatedly.
He felt the victim's pain as if it were his own.
The memories of being abused as a child became intertwined with the memories of the violence he had inflicted, until he could no longer distinguish whether he was the victim or the offender.
Dr. Aoshima makes it clear that acknowledging PTSD in an offender does not diminish the suffering of the victim.
Rather, she explains, as a psychiatrist, that treating someone who is both an offender and a victim of childhood abuse is extraordinarily difficult.
One scene left a particularly deep impression on me.
One year after the incident, a memorial service for Yuta was held inside the juvenile training school.
To be honest, I had always thought of a Buddhist memorial service as little more than a long period of listening to sutras that I did not understand.
But for this young man, it meant something entirely different.
He helped prepare for the service himself, quietly reflected on the child who had died, and remained perfectly still throughout the hour-long chanting.
Afterward, his mental condition noticeably improved.
I do not believe the ceremony itself had some magical power.
Rather, it seems that it became an important milestone where he faced his own crime and mourned the life that had been lost.
At the end of the chapter, he wished to visit Yuta's grave, but that wish was never fulfilled.
"I will never be forgiven."
Carrying that feeling, he returned to society.
In Chapter 1, Dr. Aoshima wrote that she had once received what appeared to be a threatening letter from someone connected to a victim.
From the victim's family's perspective, perhaps even the psychiatrist caring for the offender seemed unforgivable.
I can understand those feelings.
Even so, Dr. Aoshima continued her work with these young people quietly and steadfastly.
After reading this book, my feelings toward victims have not changed.
The weight of a lost life never changes.
At the same time, however, I found myself wondering for the first time whether calling someone simply "an offender" is enough to understand a human being.
What kind of family did that person grow up in?
What did they lose?
What invisible wounds did they carry?
Trying to understand those questions does not justify the crime.
Rather, I believe it is an attempt to understand human beings so that such tragedies may never happen again.
That is the quiet but powerful message I received from this chapter.
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