Japan’s First Firearm Serial Killer

In 1866, famed samurai and proponent of Japanese modernization Sakamoto Ryoma defended himself from feudal authorities trying to arrest him by using an army revolver. It turned out to be a deeply symbolic victory, with Sakamoto’s booming gunshots ringing like a death knell for the katana, which was soon abolished together with the entire samurai class during the Meiji Restoration (1868). From then on, the gun was to be Japan’s weapon of choice. One person really took it to heart. Unfortunately, he took it in the worst possible way. This is the story of Sadakichi Shimizu, Japan’s first firearm serial killer.

Depiction of Shimizu Staging a Robbery (c. late 1900s), artist unknown

Massage With a Sad Ending

In 1882, a new type of crime wave hit Tokyo. A masked robber was entering houses under the cover of night and stealing all the valuables. That part was actually par for the course when it came to living in the big city. However, when discovered by the homeowner or a servant, this criminal pulled out a pistol.

Firearms had been known in Japan since the mid-16th century, but mostly in the form of long guns. Handguns only appeared in the country in the 1850s. They were still new technology during the armed burglary spree. Maybe that’s why the victims didn’t immediately recognize the intruder’s tool as a deadly weapon. Maybe that’s why some of them charged him and were fatally shot.

The perpetrator of these crimes was Sadakichi Shimizu, born in 1837 in Asakusa, Tokyo (then still known as Edo). By day, he worked as an anma masseur, the perfect cover that allowed him to freely move around the city and scope out potential targets. Shimizu’s weapon was probably an army Smith & Wesson revolver, and while it’s unclear how he obtained it, he definitely knew how to use it. He remained active until 1886, with the police attributing over 80 burglaries and five to six murders to him, depending on the source, making him the first serial killer in modern Japanese history (there were a few feudal ones before him).

Monument to Ogawa in Hamacho, Tokyo

The Battle of Ogawa Bridge

On December 3, 1886, Shimizu broke into a house in Bakurocho and shot one of the employees there before fleeing. Out of his burglar getup, he was nonetheless spotted and followed for a while by a patrolman named Ogawa, who thought there was something off about the masseur. The policeman finally confronted Shimizu near a canal in Hamacho.

Some reports about the encounter describe a brutal battle, during which Shimizu shot at Ogawa and attacked him with a knife. The young officer was most likely only armed with a jitte truncheon. Seriously wounded, Ogawa got the thrashing killer in a body lock and yelled: “If you’re going to kill me, kill me! I won’t let go even if I die!” Miraculously — considering that Shimizu was a skilled judoka — Ogawa managed to hold on until help arrived, bringing the serial killer to justice.

Tragically, Ogawa’s wounds eventually proved fatal, and the patrolman died on April 26, 1888, at age 24, though he got to see Shimizu hanged for his crimes in September 1887. In Ogawa’s memory, a nearby bridge was named after him, but both it and the canal are no longer there. It feels a little unfair that Ogawa has been mostly forgotten by history, save for a small monument in Hamacho, while Shimizu was forever immortalized in film history.

Shimizu Supposedly Used A Japanese Army Smith & Wesson Revolver | Image: International Military Antiques

A Killer Performance

Shimizu’s image improved immensely after his death. Once, he was feared across Tokyo as the Pistol Killer, but by the 1890s, people had started romanticizing his story, inventing facts about his life, like how he’d been a direct retainer of the shogun who fell on hard times. (There is zero proof of that.) The fact that he primarily targeted the houses of rich people might have contributed to his posthumous popularity, but the man wasn’t Robin Hood. Sure, he stole from the rich — but only because they were the ones who had stuff worth stealing. And he only gave to himself.

And yet, in 1899, Shimizu became the topic of the first dramatic film in Japanese history: Pisutoru Goto Shimizu Sadakichi (sometimes translated as The Armed Robber Shimizu Sadakichi). The short, depicting one of Shimizu’s robberies and his arrest, was only a few minutes long. The technology and time limitations prevented Shimizu from being portrayed in any kind of positive fashion, but his name does live on thanks to the movie. Ogawa’s name isn’t mentioned anywhere.

On the other hand, Pisutoru Goto Shimizu Sadakichi did kick off the career of Unpei Yokoyama, who played the policeman in the short. He’s now considered possibly the first Japanese film actor ever, with nearly 300 acting credits, and a founding father of one of the most exciting entertainment industries on the planet. Not exactly a textbook happy ending, but let’s take whatever we can from this tragic story.