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In case the name Glico doesn’t ring a bell, you might instead recognize one or maybe even
a few of their world famous products.
While these are obviously what the brand is most known for especially overseas, what you
might not know is that Glico was once entwined in one of Japan’s most harrowing mysteries--one
that left parents across the county petrified.
For tonight’s unsolved case, we explore the Glico Morinaga case and it’s perpetrator,
the Monster with 21 Faces.
Ezaki Glico or better known as just Glico is a confectionery company founded nearly
100 years ago in Osaka, Japan.
By 1984, the company was in a transitional period in terms of leadership.
Just two years prior the company’s founder would step down, only to be replaced by his
son--a then 42 year old man by the name of Katsuhisa Ezaki.
The relatively new CEO had a lot on his plate between raising his young family and continuing
his father’s legacy, but nothing could have prepared him for the night
of March 18, 1984--or the subsequent nightmare that would last nearly a year and a half after that.
At approximately 9pm, two armed intruders broke into the Ezaki residence while Katsuhisa bathed.
The two men first happened upon Mrs. Ezaki and one of the couple's three children.
They were both bound.
Meanwhile, Katsuhisa, hearing the commotion, tried to remain unnoticed in the nearby bathroom
with his other two children, but his efforts were ultimately in vain.
The bathroom was stormed, the CEO captured, and just like that he and the assailants were gone.
Katsuhisa’s family soon managed to escape and call police, but by that point there was
little the authorities could do but wait.
A ransom request was made the very next morning, with the unidentified assailants asking for
the equivalent of $4.3M dollars along with 220 pounds of gold.
A staggering amount for anyone, but one that would ultimately never have to be paid.
Just three days later, Katsuhisa managed to escape completely unharmed, revealing to both
police and the public that he’d been held in a warehouse in nearby Ibaraki city, not
far from his own company’s headquarters.
Puzzlingly enough, the CEO also claimed that he managed to finally escape because he, for
some reason, had been left unmonitored.
For now, the nightmare seemed over, but regardless, the public was horrified at the news.
Such corporate attacks were something that seemingly never happened in Japan, and to
many it seemed like something that just couldn't.
Little did anyone know, however, that this was really only the beginning of the madness--not
just for Glico, but really for all of Japan.
Almost a month after the taking of Katsuhisa Ezaki, more bizarre events began to unfold
for Glico.
On April 10th, a number of vehicles outside the company HQ were inexplicably set on fire
in a suspected arson case.
Just under a week later, a container filled with hydrochloric acid was located in
one of Glico’s buildings, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, it came with a note--solidifying
the fact that these were the same people behind the kidnapping.
Another month would pass, then things would escalate exponentially.
In May of 1984, both Glico and local Osaka media received letters claiming that cyanide
laced packs of the company’s candy would be placed on shelves--the letters signed by
a person or group choosing to be called the Monster with 21 Faces.
The name, many assume, was taken from the works of mystery writer Rampo Edogawa.
Specifically a character known as the "Monster or Fiend with 20 Faces."
It goes without saying that what happened next was mass panic, and of course for good reason.
Glico pulled an estimated $21M worth of product from store shelves across Japan, and as a
result suffered a major final blow with sales for that month ultimately dropping by half.
Hundreds of workers were even laid off.
Now despite all the damage, however, no poisoned candies were actually found.
Meanwhile investigators were scrambling to crack the case, but the so-called “Monster
with 21 Faces” was slippery, and they knew it.
As this was going on, the letters didn’t stop.
Many that were sent to the media were addressed directly to Japanese police, who the Monster described
as stupid and incompetent.
The monster was so confident--or perhaps frustrated with police--that they even gave out hints,
claiming that their getaway vehicle was grey, and that they’d entered Glico’s factory
via the front gate in order to plant the container filled with acid, which they claimed
was originally street garbage.
The letters themselves would become a defining characteristic of this case, but even with
how frequent they were, they didn’t offer any clues as to the Monster’s identity--aside
from the fact that they seemed local based on the dialect that was used.
There did, however, appear to be one possible break in the case after Glico’s products
had been recalled.
This man was spotted on CCTV seemingly placing something onto a store shelf.
It’s a bit difficult to make out, but the man here is wearing a business suit and glasses,
along with a Tokyo Yomiuri Giants Baseball cap.
To this day, this remains the only piece of actual footage associated with the case, but
whoever’s depicted in it--the so called “videotaped man”--has never been identified
or even formally connected to the person or group who calls themselves the Monster with
21 Faces.
On June 26th, at the height of all the chaos and confusion, something even more bizarre
took place.
Another letter had turned up, but this time it seemingly claimed that the Monster was
done with Glico.
The note, addressed to the people of Japan, said:
"The president of Glico has already gone around with his head hanging down long enough.
We would like to forgive him...Japan has gotten terribly hot and humid.
So when our 'work' is done, we want to go to Europe - Geneva, Paris, London - we'll
be in one of those places...
Let's bring Pocky - the traveler's friend!
Delicious Glico products - we're eating them too!
See you in January of next year!"
Keep in mind, this came out of nowhere after months of harassment from the group, and it
even came without any money being exchanged.
This, of course, would seem ultimately bizarre and a waste of time if not for the fact that
the Monster really hadn’t stopped at all.
In fact, it had already started targeting other brands, including one Marudai Food company,
with much the same tactics it had already used with Glico.
Once again, ransom was demanded in exchange for peace, and unlike Glico, Marudai was ready
to comply--but with a catch.
On June 28th, two days after the Monster announced an end to it’s obsession with Glico, Marudai
was set to deliver its payment.
Instead of sending over a company employee like requested, however, an undercover police
officer was tasked with the job.
While on the train to the specified drop location, the undercover cop picked up on a man that
seemed to be following him.
Said man was described as having a larger build, short hair, glasses, and most notably,
eyes said to resemble those of a fox.
The undercover cop was instructed to keep an eye out for a white flag--the signal to
drop the money--but since that flag never appeared, the cop continued on the route until
it’s eventual end in Kyoto.
He was only there long enough to hop on the next available train back to Osaka, and sure
enough, the fox eyed man boarded the exact same train.
This time the detective decided to disembark at Takatsuki, the midpoint between Osaka and
Kyoto, at which point the fox eyed man disembarked as well, then boarded a train heading back to Kyoto yet again.
Now the cop was the one following him, but the fox eyed man managed to slip away.
Following this incident, more chaos would continue with other food companies like Fujiya
and House foods getting sucked into the massive blackmailing scheme, but nonetheless the Monster
still evaded capture.
Out of all of these corporations, one company in particular would be the target
of arguably the worst attack of this whole case--Morinaga, the other half of the Glico
Morinaga case.
In early October 1984, the Monster with 21 Faces would strike again, this time sending
a letter to the media, addressed directly to mother’s across Japan.
And needless to say, what was said in the letter was extremely alarming.
Much like the with the earlier Glico incident in May mass panic set in and products were
mass recalled, only this time the Monster wasn’t bluffing.
Several packs of Morinaga products were found with additional labels on them reading “Danger.
Contains poison” signed The Monster with 21 Faces--and sure enough, these candies did
indeed test positive for poison .
In response, a staggering 40,000 Japanese police officers were set to watch over supermarkets
and convenience stores in the hopes of catching one of the culprits in the act.
Maybe even preventing the worst from ever even taking place.
This massive deployment however, much like all other police efforts, ultimately resulted
in nothing and the Japanese public would close 1984 in fear.
By Valentine’s Day 1985, more laced products had been uncovered and it’d become clear that the Monster was not letting up.
Meanwhile, however, on the seemingly more positive side of things
around this time, police had finally zeroed in on a prime suspect, a man by the name of
Manabu Miyazaki--who was identified following the January release of the composite sketch
of the fox eyed man from the train.This was really the first bit of actual progress in
this almost year long case, and it seemed promising.
The man, by his own admission claimed to be an outlaw with ties to local Yakuza--and on
top of it all off, he even looked like the fox eyed man.
But much like everything in this case, this too led nowhere as Miyazaki denied the allegations
and had alibis that seemed to prove his innocence.
His name was cleared, and everyone moved on, or at least tried to.
In August 1985, things were still at a standstill and the Japanese public were furious with
law enforcement’s perceived incompetence.
The pressure was too much for one man in particular who’d worked on the case--superintendent
Shoji Yamamoto.
Out of shame, he set himself on fire and would ultimately pass away.
The monster, meanwhile, had been watching--and reappeared several days later.
But unbeknownst to the Japanese people at the time, this would be the end.
No-career Yamamoto died like a man.
So we decided to give our condolences.
We decided to forget about torturing food-making companies.
If anyone blackmails any of the food-making companies, it's not us but someone copying us.
We are bad guys.
That means we've got more to do other than bullying companies.
The monster ultimately made good on their word and didn’t strike again.
Just like that, it was all over--but even so, people were still left with no answers,
no real reason for why this all happened or who was behind it.
Who was the fox eyed man and was he the same person spotted supposedly placing candy onto
a store shelf?
Were these two men actually not involved at all?
Over the duration of the Glico Morinaga case, endless amounts of theories emerged citing
everything from a disgruntled ex employee all the way to Japanese communist groups--but
the monster’s true motivations are still unknown to this day.
If you think about everything that happened, it almost comes off like the Monster with
21 faces didn’t actually want to hurt anyone or even make money for that matter.
Why place labels on tainted goods?
Why not actually collect the money?
Why leave the CEO unmonitored which allowed for his escape?
That, we don’t know, but what we do know is that whoever the monster is or was, they
really had a bone to pick with the authorities, and one might argue that most of their statements
were made specifically to outline the incompetence of Japanese police--a criticism that still
lasts into the modern day.
As mentioned earlier, it’s highly likely that the monster took his name from “the
fiend with 20 faces” and it’s not just the name that gives it away.
The fiend is a master of disguise--someone who can blend in in plain sight who’s also
known for laughing in the face of police.
He’s the type of criminal that normal police just aren’t good enough to catch on their
own without the help of a top detective.
In the end, we’re never going to know what the monster really wanted.
Was it to make a point to society, or to play out his very own detective fantasy in real
life?
The answer remains unclear, but what’s troubling to think about is that the monster with 21
faces could still be alive today--and much like the fiend, the monster remains unseen.
If you made it this far I just wanted to thank you for watching, and in case you need more
from the Unsolved series feel free to check out the playlist for the show--and if you
happen to have any suggestions for topics I’d be happy to take a look at them if you
email reignbotinbox@gmail.com.
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