FUKUOKA (TR) – A Fukuoka mother’s desperate 10-month search for her missing college-aged son has taken a dark turn, with authorities suspecting he may be caught up in a Southeast Asian telecom fraud syndicate, reports Abema Times (Oct. 19).
Late last year, the medical university student told his mother he was taking a short trip to South Korea with a senior coworker from his part-time job. It was his first time traveling overseas.
“He packed so lightly, just one bag, like it was a day trip,” his mother recalled. “He was excitedly getting ready, talking on the phone while drying his hair.”
“I’ll be home by the end of the day”
However, on the second day of what was supposed to be a three-day trip, the mother noticed an anomaly on a smartphone location-sharing app. Her son’s GPS signal showed he was no longer in South Korea, but in Cambodia.
On the day he was scheduled to return, she messaged him via LINE: “You’re coming home today, right? Where are you?”
“I’m in Cambodia. I’ll be home by the end of the day,” he replied.
When the frantic mother asked if he was safe and urged him to go to the embassy, he simply responded, “It’s a normal trip.”
Shortly after, the mother received a suspicious SMS from someone claiming to be her son, but the phrasing felt entirely unnatural. Meanwhile, the GPS app showed his phone moving at vehicular speeds from west to east, bypassing the airport and heading deep into the country. After that, his phone stopped receiving messages and calls would not connect.
Missing person report
The mother immediately filed a missing person report with the police and consulted the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
She was then warned her son had likely been swallowed up by a tokushu sagi (special fraud) syndicate. In such a case, a person poses as a public official or police officer on the telephone to con a victim.
The case mirrors a growing trend of Japanese nationals being lured into Southeast Asian crime syndicates. In June, Takeshi Ohama, director of the National Police Agency’s Organized Crime Department, stated, “We are aware of missing persons numbering in the dozens who are believed to be in Cambodia.” That same month, NPA executives visited Cambodian national police to discuss crackdowns on “special fraud” scam rings operating within its borders.
About eight months after her son’s disappearance, the mother received a sudden call from an unknown number. She was instructed to download a highly encrypted communications app, leading to a video call with her son.
On the screen, her son and his traveling companion appeared to be sitting inside a Japanese-style izakaya with a bottle of wine. However, the mother immediately sensed something was wrong.
“There was no sign of other customers or staff walking by. It was strange,” she said. Fearing he was being monitored by a criminal organization, she carefully asked when he was coming home. He refused to give a straight answer, claiming instead that he had “decided to work” there. He would not disclose the name of the company or what his job entailed.
Unexpected demand
Then came an unexpected demand.
“He said he was worried about making a fuss in the media, and told me, ‘If you’ve filed a missing person report, withdraw it. Take a photo of the withdrawal certificate and send it to me,'” his mother said. “He told me it was causing ‘problems at his company.'”
When the mother refused, explaining that the police advised against dropping the report since his exact whereabouts remained unknown, her son curtly replied, “Whatever,” and ended the call.
He has been completely unreachable since. Messages asking “Are you alive?” and “How are you doing?” remain unread.
In September, the mother was seen at Fukuoka Airport, boarding a flight to Cambodia to coordinate directly with local authorities in a desperate bid to bring her son home. His current whereabouts remain entirely unknown.