Morohashi Yoshitomo has fought his way back from rock bottom.

The 47-year-old is a lawyer.

His movement could be better.

But he once lived on the other side of the law.

Morohashi used to be a yakuza.

Now, he helps others who have also had their day of reckoning.

People don't think good of me, as a former gangster.

Morohashi is like a shepherd.

I want to protect those who have become disadvantaged. They have suffered, and lived hard lives.

Japanese society can be unforgiving.

And Morohashi believes second chances start in the space between black and white...

between right and wrong.

Morohashi's office sits in a corner of Asakusa, downtown Tokyo.

Thanks for coming so early.

I'm happy to have my own office.

I received an early morning call, asking for a consultation.

Morohashi mostly handles criminal cases.

His client today needs advice before heading to the police for questioning.

They want to ask me about marijuana, so I thought I should see a lawyer.

Possessing marijuana is illegal in Japan.

And Morohashi's client has been charged with the crime before.

This kind of thing should be dealt with quickly.

Even if the outcome is bad, you'll at least be able to start over sooner.

Morohashi's client visits the police station, as requested.

And Morohashi parks nearby.

Good morning. Thank you for today.

I'll stay here.

I'm nervous.

Relax. Now go.

Thanks.

Morohashi waits for three hours.

I'm back.

It went OK. I feel relieved.

Thank you for waiting a long time.

You must be tired.

If the police call me again, can I call you?

Of course, please get in touch.

No matter what, Morohashi always tries to show understanding.

Japan is known around the world as a safe country.

But at the same time, statistics suggest recidivism - when convicts reoffend - is a stubborn problem.

In 2022, police arrested almost 170,000 people.

About 48 percent already had criminal records.

Social rehabilitation is seen as vital for bringing the rate down.

You know, the shift from black to white isn't always so sudden.

It can be better to first go from black to gray.

This is Morohashi's driver, Sampei Hirokatsu.

Sampei also belonged to the yakuza.

He left six years ago with seven criminal convictions including bodily harm and attempted fraud.

But he's a gangster no more.

And that means he can open a bank account -

something ex-yakuza are banned from doing for a full five years after going straight.

I made a deposit of 10 million yen. All good.

Sampei was being ironic. He actually pays in just 1,000 yen.

Sampei knows first-hand about the struggle to reenter society.

He left the yakuza and drifted from one job to the next.

Working for Morohashi has finally brought some stability.

I always think twice nowadays. I don't want to cause any trouble for Morohashi.

I rarely get into fights.

Because if I were to raise my hand, I know I could face jail.

Morohashi says Sampei is a hard worker.

Someone who's versatile.

Always ready to go the extra mile, in more ways than one.

I don't focus on people's negative points.

I want to hide any shortcomings by making the most of their positive traits.

This area used to be so crowded with clubbers.

Morohashi has faced up to his own turbulent past.

As a teen, he started abusing stimulants and dropped out of college.

He had nowhere to go, and fell into the underworld.

The yakuza group Morohashi joined ostensibly did not deal drugs.

But he did. And he became an addict.

I couldn't go five hours without a hit.

It was like meals.

I became paranoid, as if I were being followed and targeted.

I knew the pain would stop if I ditched the drugs.

But I couldn't.

Morohashi started hallucinating.

He was losing his mind.

Police found him wandering the streets, and placed him under protective custody for a week.

He was later sent to a psychiatric hospital.

Morohashi was 28.

He was even expelled from the yakuza.

I felt like a total failure.

I didn't want to start over.

I actually wanted to take my own life.

Back then, Morohashi's mother Yoshie still didn't know he had been a gangster.

His breakdown left her deeply troubled.

I struggled to breathe. The tears didn't stop.

It felt like my mouth and nose were covered.

I couldn't even wash my face for fear of choking.

I couldn't drink water from a glass, either.

Morohashi was discharged from hospital, and arrested on suspicion of using stimulants.

He was given a suspended sentence.

Morohashi had never sunk so low.

But the experience was like an epiphany.

He left the underworld behind, and started searching for an honest line of work.

I wanted to make my mother happy again.

I was depressed, but she was worse.

All because of me.

I wanted to help her by turning my own life around.

Reading became a way of life.

And one book in particular was a great a book source of inspiration.

It's the autobiography of Ohira Mitsuyo.

She's a lawyer. And she was once the wife of a yakuza.

Reading this made me believe I could also rise up from despair.

That maybe I could make it, too.

Morohashi decided to become a lawyer.

Given his background, the challenge could barely have been tougher.

But after eight years of study, he passed the bar exam.

And in 2015 - aged 38 - he registered as an attorney.

The lawyers who mentored Morohashi believe his turbulent history could even be an advantage.

We have no reason to refuse him, as long as he stays motivated.

I wish him success all the more because of his past.

We lawyers must look at how and why our clients committed their crimes,

and what they will do in the future.

Not just by listening, but by using the wisdom we've gained through our own lives.

Imagination and knowledge are vital in criminal defense.

So Morohashi's first-hand experiences may be an advantage.

I told him, "You can do it."

At the same time, other people are skeptical,

including a close friend who used to be in the same gang as Morohashi.

He was a yakuza who did many inexplicable things, such as taking stimulants.

He should now live on the fringes of society.

I want to say, "Don't get the wrong idea."

I worry about his role in future.

But words like that only strengthen Morohashi's motivation.

Some things hold you back and make you lazy.

So it's better to shake them off.

I want to protect the people who come to me for advice. They have suffered, and lived hard lives.

One person has been confiding in Morohashi more than most.

He started sending me letters almost every day.

Authorities suspect the man of fraud during the coronavirus pandemic.

They believe he unlawfully received kickbacks from government subsidies designed to help struggling businesses.

They prosecuted him more than 40 times, and kept him in detention for one and a half years.

The man wrote to Morohashi about his plans to change for the better.

"I reflect on my crimes."

"There's someone important for whom I want to start my life again. Someone I want to protect."

Morohashi regularly visited the man at the police station.

And he now wants to help him get back on his feet in the outside world.

"You have an extra desk."

Yes. I hope he can eventually work here once a week or so.

A part-time job.

Morohashi plans to hire the man if he's released on bail.

Some people really do want to start over.

And for me, it's rewarding to help.

It's not so much what I "should" do, but what I "want" to do.

Hello.

Morohashi stays in touch with his former clients.

They include Yanagi Tomonobu.

He was convicted of possessing and using stimulants eight years ago.

Morohashi served as his defense attorney.

Yanagi recalls being surprised,

because Morohashi didn't look like your garden variety lawyer.

Unruly types. Takes one to know one.

I was convinced Morohashi fell into that bracket.

Yanagi first started taking drugs as a teenager.

He got clean, and set up a construction company.

But just as things were going good, his old habit reared its ugly head.

Yanagi grew dangerously dependent on drugs.

And he spent little time with his family.

Eventually, the police took him in.

Yanagi felt immensely sorry.

My family cried so much.

It was devastating.

Having to meet them with a clear screen between us.

It was depressing.

Still, Morohashi didn't tell Yanagi to quit the drugs immediately.

He said I must not go from black to white all at once.

Gray is enough to start.

Society and other lawyers will tell you different.

They say, "Never ever use drugs." So did the judge at my trial.

Here you are. Chamomile and peppermint.

Thanks.

Yanagi remarried, and set up a food truck two years ago.

And Morohashi often chips in with advice.

Spicy and delicious. Just what I wanted.

I'm so glad. I'll stick it on the menu.

Thanks.

Yanagi says he has Morohashi to thank for putting him on the straight and narrow.

If I got in trouble again and asked him to be my attorney,

I guess he wouldn't get angry.

He'd just say, "Again? I understand."

And that is what prevents me from using drugs.

He's my deterrent.

I become friends with my clients.

I get in touch once a year or so, and ask how they're doing or if they fancy a bite to eat.

When it comes to avoiding crime, I believe human relationships are crucial.

The man who kept writing to Morohashi has asked him to be his attorney.

And Morohashi has accepted.

Signing the agreement, it's like a vow to protect my client.

No matter what.

NHK got in touch with Morohashi's client.

In a letter, he described him as someone who values honor and kindness.

But a bombshell came when Morohashi was preparing some documents for court.

I want to quit.

I can't believe I have been deceived.

He discovered that his client was accused of the coronavirus subsidy fraud while on probation for another crime.

We all have things we don't want to reveal.

Same goes for my client.

I guess I have no choice but to do what I can.

Morohashi offers up some sage advice.

He really needs to change his way of life.

He needs to speak more honestly to me and other people.

I want him to reflect.

If not, he will be consumed by the fraud case.

And he won't be able to start over.

Ultimately, Morohashi decides to carry on defending his client until the court comes to a decision.

Today, Morohashi is checking up on a former client.

He wants to see how things are going.

He too was a yakuza.

He was trying to collect some money he had loaned to a shop owner,

when the police arrested him for attempted extortion.

Morohashi told him to pave the way for a settlement by giving up on the money.

The case didn't even make it to court.

Never been to prison. Maybe's God's watching over me.

Oh, you haven't?

The man currently earns a living installing solar panels.

You said I mustn't get involved with gangs.

It's important that you sever bad ties

before establishing proper relationships with other people.

Things are looking up.

The man plans to hire two people soon for his business.

Mud sticks for an ex-yakuza like me.

To be considered a good person, I need to continue doing good deeds like volunteer work.

- That's great.
- I have to make amends for the past.

There's no way I can reach Morohashi's level, but I'll follow his lead as much as I can.

Morohashi has given me so much inspiration.

And the feeling's mutual.

It makes me happy to help people start over.

In fact, they're helping me do just the same.