The Glico-Morinaga Case

The Glico-Morinaga Case and the Mysterious 'Monster with 21 Faces'. An Unsolved Mystery That Captivated Japan

Glico Man at Dōtonbori (Osaka) - Schellack, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Japan is certainly not known for societal violence. Incidents of violent crime—especially those involving bloodshed—are relatively rare, particularly when compared to Western countries. Violent crimes do occur in Japan, but they remain infrequent. The country’s strict gun control laws, which make it extremely difficult—if not impossible—for ordinary citizens to own firearms, also contribute to a less violent society.

That’s why it came as a shock in 1984 when a case emerged that would go down in history as the “Glico-Morinaga Case”—a complex criminal affair that gripped the public and the police for 17 months and remains unsolved to this day.

A Strange Kidnapping

It all began at 9:00 p.m. on March 18, 1984, when two masked men, armed with a handgun and a rifle, broke into the home of an elderly woman. After tying her up, they forced her to hand over the keys to the nearby house of her son—their real target.

Once inside the home of Ezaki Katsuhisa, the intruders tied up his wife and daughter, then searched for the head of the household, whom they found hiding in the bathroom with his two other children. To the family’s surprise, the men didn’t steal anything—instead, they abducted Katsuhisa and took him to a hideout in the city of Ibaraki, in Osaka Prefecture.

Ezaki Katsuhisa was the president of Ezaki Glico Co., Ltd., one of Japan’s leading confectionery and food companies, best known for its iconic Pocky—chocolate-covered biscuit sticks, also available in a variety of other flavors.

The following day, the manager of the Takatsuki branch received a phone call demanding a ransom: one billion yen and one hundred kilograms of gold bars. However, on March 21—just three days after the kidnapping—Katsuhisa managed to escape from the place where he was being held.

The Monster with 21 Faces

Typically—and fortunately—kidnappings end with the release of the hostage, the recovery of the ransom (if already paid), and the arrest of the perpetrators. But this time, things unfolded very differently: the ransom was never paid, the criminals were never caught, and far from giving up, they changed tactics. Abandoning kidnapping, they began sending threatening letters signed with the alias “The Monster with 21 Faces”—a name inspired by a character from the detective novels of writer Edogawa Rampo.

Meanwhile, the public began to ask unsettling questions: who was hiding behind that mysterious name? What was their real motive? Was it merely an attempt at extortion—or was there something more?

On April 10, 1984—one month before the kidnapping—several cars parked at the headquarters of Ezaki Glico were set on fire. On April 16, in Ibaraki, a threatening letter was discovered alongside a plastic box containing hydrochloric acid. Then, on May 10, Glico received the first letter signed “The Monster with 21 Faces.” The message claimed that some of the company’s candies, already prepared for distribution, had been laced with potassium cyanide.

The threat forced Glico to pull all of its products from supermarket shelves. The financial damage was severe: losses exceeded 21 million dollars, and 450 part-time workers were laid off.

The 'Monster' Challenges the Police

Following a new threat of food contamination, the police obtained what seemed to be their first significant lead: a security camera captured a suspicious man placing a box of chocolates on the store shelves. The photo was released to the public but yielded no concrete results.

The letters kept coming, mostly addressed to the media. The “Monster” mocked the police’s ineffectiveness and issued constant provocations. It had become a real challenge between him and law enforcement. Some letters contained clues, but none led to a breakthrough.

On June 26, the campaign against the well-known confectionery company officially ended with a message stating, “We forgive Glico.” But the story was far from over: the target shifted. New threatening letters were sent to other food companies—Morinaga & Company, Marudai Ham, and House Foods Corporation.

With Marudai, the criminals attempted extortion: threats in exchange for 50 million yen. June 28 was set as the payment date. A police officer, posing as a Marudai employee, was to toss a bag of money from a train headed to Kyoto at the appearance of a white flag.

During the trip, the officer noticed a sturdy man wearing sunglasses, neatly trimmed short hair, and sharp eyes described as “fox-like,” who was staring at him intently. But the white flag never appeared, and the money drop failed. However, the police now had a potential suspect, dubbed the “Man with the Fox Eyes.”

Both the officer and the mysterious man got off at Kyoto Station and boarded the same train to Osaka—but in different cars. Another officer tried to follow the suspect but lost track of him.

Man with the Fox Eyes

On November 14, the police had a second chance. The “Monster” proposed a new deal to House Foods Corporation for 100 million yen. The money was to be placed in a barrel covered with a white tarp at a designated spot.

During the operation on the Meishin Expressway, the police spotted the Man with the Fox Eyes at a rest area, but he managed to disappear once again. The van carrying the ransom arrived at the agreed point, but no barrel was found. Suspecting a trap, the police withdrew.

It later emerged that, an hour earlier and unaware of the ransom drop, a Shiga Prefecture police patrol had noticed a suspicious van. Inside was a man wearing a golf hat pulled low over his eyes and a radio earpiece. Upon realizing he was spotted, the man sped off, evading capture.

The vehicle was found shortly after near Kusatsu Station in the same prefecture. Inside was a radio tuned to police frequencies. The van had been stolen.

In January 1985, the police released a composite sketch of the Man with the Fox Eyes. On August 7, following yet another threatening letter and a fresh investigative failure, the head of police in Shiga Prefecture took his own life.

It was a tragic act that shocked the public and left a profound impact.

A Twist in the Tale

Five days later, on August 12, the last letter from the “Monster with 21 Faces” arrived. Its tone was mocking. After disparaging the suicide victim, Chief Yamamoto, and ridiculing the police, the “Monster” announced that its criminal activities would cease. It offered the usual “condolences” and concluded by saying it had enjoyed itself but now had “other things to do than extort companies.”

From that day on, the Monster with 21 Faces vanished without a trace. It was never heard from again.

After the release of the composite sketch, Tokyo police identified a possible suspect: Manabu Miyazaki. Already known to authorities, Miyazaki was a turbulent figure. Between 1975 and 1976, he had carried out several protest actions against Glico and was suspected of orchestrating the removal of a union leader during the merger of “Glico Ham” and “Glico Nutritional Foods.”

In 1976, he also produced an audio recording supporting a strike, containing phrases and tones similar to those in the Monster’s letters.

In addition to these coincidences, his strong physical resemblance to the Man with the Fox Eyes made suspicions rise. However, after verifying his alibi, the police had to release him: there was not enough evidence to link him to the case.

There was another detail: Miyazaki was the son of a powerful Yakuza boss. Was this the reason the investigation was abruptly halted? Perhaps. But we may never know.

The investigations continued for years without results. Theories ranged from Yakuza involvement to far-right or far-left extremist groups, and even, in 2000, a possible connection to North Korea. All dead ends.

In June 1995, the statute of limitations expired on the kidnapping charge against Ezaki Katsuhisa. In February 2000, the attempted murder charge by poisoning also expired.

As for Miyazaki, after stepping away from the case, he became a writer and commentator. He recounted his story in the autobiographical book Toppamono, which became a minor publishing sensation.

Author: Cristiano Suriani