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ぃヵお

ぃヵお

ハジマザの音響どのフェスよりもいかつすぎる
Red Criminal始まった瞬間とか4DX並に五感が震えてた
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闇バイトダメ・創作家

闇バイトダメ・創作家

Where Is Justice?

Justice—where is it? In a world where “if you don’t get caught, you’re not punished” has become reality, I feel a deep sense of anger and unease. People deceive, destroy lives, even take lives, and if they slip through the cracks of law enforcement, they walk free. In one country, individuals enter on tourist visas, disappear into hidden compounds, commit fraud for months or years, and return home as if nothing happened. If they aren’t caught, they repeat the cycle. Will they continue scamming until death? Do they feel no remorse, even as they age? These questions terrify me. People have died. Families have been shattered. Yet the local government fails to act decisively, and criminal networks thrive. Economic aid flows in, but with it comes silence and complicity. Is it just me who sees this aid as a mask for enabling crime? Some say, “Anyone who goes there is asking for it.” But that blames the victim and excuses the perpetrator. Victims had dreams. They were trying to survive. Their trust was betrayed—not just by the scammers, but by the systems that failed to protect them. Fraudsters are often trapped in their own networks, exploited while exploiting others. Escape means violence, confiscated passports, confinement. They lose their humanity. And this structure is upheld by weak enforcement, legal loopholes, and global indifference. What is justice? What is law? Is a crime not a crime if it’s never exposed? I refuse to accept that. A crime remains a crime. A society where lives are destroyed without consequence is a society without justice. It’s a place where the vulnerable are silenced. I won’t ignore this reality. If anger can become words, maybe those words can protect someone. That’s why I speak. Justice begins when someone dares to speak. We must not look away. The moment we say “it’s not my problem,” justice dies. Even if it happens far away, it’s part of our world. Fraud doesn’t just steal money. It steals trust, dignity, and futures. And the idea that “if you don’t get caught, you’re safe” threatens the foundation of society. Victims didn’t just lose money—they lost faith in people, in systems, in hope. That pain is invisible. That pain is silent. So I want to give it voice. That’s the first step toward justice. The end for scammers is rarely glamorous. They live in fear, isolation, and distrust. Yet they continue, because society lets them. If they aren’t punished, why stop? Unless we change that structure, victims will keep multiplying. I want to believe in justice. Maybe that’s naïve. But if no one believes, justice doesn’t exist. If no one speaks, justice doesn’t move. So I turn anger into language, sorrow into sentences, questions into challenges, and hope into proposals. Justice isn’t distant—it lives within each of us. In our courage to speak, our refusal to look away, our willingness to care. That’s where justice begins. I believe in words. I believe words can change the world. So I write. To reach someone. To make sure no life is trampled again.
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臼井優

臼井優

刑法とは何ぞや?
→犯罪と刑罰に関する法律(Criminal law)
であり、その中の最大の基本原則→
「法律無ければ、犯罪無し
 法律無ければ、刑罰無し」
罪刑法定主義(ドイツの刑法学者、パウル・ヨハン・アンゼルム・フォン・フォイエルバッハ)
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kyo

kyo

「criminal life」
[verse]
Yo, what’s the line that makes me guilty, huh?
Steppin’ on ants — call that cruelty charge?
Breathin’ without permission — unlawful air?
Man, they cuff you for existin’, like they just don’t care.

Heard somewhere they arrest you for the shade of your skin,
Thought that was foreign — nah, same system within.
Shake hands in daylight, call each other “bro,”
But behind your back, that G19 ready to blow.

[Hook]
Everybody livin’ that criminal life,
Blank page turned to a book of lies.
Equality’s gone, justice sold,
We all guilty in this world so cold.

[Verse]
Yo — so these cats guilty?
Then you flexin’ “innocent” like it’s a felony.
Where’s the line that makes you clean, tell me?
Never nudged a speedo, didn’t push a ride one km/h — really?

“Don’t bother nobody” — what a hypocrite creed,
Copycat apes clappin’ hands, same tired breed.
They stroll the curb hand in hand, all smug and soft,
Hope a car clips ’em, drags ’em off — finish ’em off.

[Hook](repeat)
Everybody livin’ that criminal life,
Blank page turned to a book of lies.
Equality’s gone, justice sold,
We all guilty in this world so cold.
GRAVITY
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