On October 28, 2025, a Japanese courtroom in the city of Nara was packed with anticipation and tension. After three years of speculation, debate, and public soul-searching, the man accused of assassinating former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe finally faced justice. Tetsuya Yamagami, 45, stood before the judge. When asked to respond to the charges, his words were clear, if subdued: "Everything is true. There is no doubt that I did this." The admission, reported by NHK and echoed across major outlets like BBC and The New York Times, marked the start of a trial that has gripped a nation long unaccustomed to political violence or gun crime.
Yamagami’s confession closed the door on any lingering doubt about the events of July 8, 2022. That day, Abe, Japan’s longest-serving prime minister and a towering figure in both domestic and international politics, was shot while giving a campaign speech in Nara. The weapon was homemade—a chilling detail in a country with some of the strictest gun laws in the world. Abe was struck multiple times and died later that day in hospital, sending shockwaves not only through Japan but around the globe.
The assassination was not just a personal tragedy or a political event. It ripped open a seam in Japanese society, exposing uncomfortable truths about the intersection of politics, religion, and family. According to Reuters and BBC, Yamagami told investigators he targeted Abe because he blamed him for promoting the Unification Church—a controversial religious group founded in South Korea in 1954 and known for its mass weddings and aggressive fundraising tactics. Yamagami’s mother, a devoted member, had donated roughly 100 million yen (about $660,000 to $1 million, depending on the exchange rate at the time), which devastated the family’s finances. The suspect’s lawyer told the court, "He began to think his whole life was ruined by the church."
The Unification Church, often referred to disparagingly as the "Moonies," has long been a source of controversy in Japan. Its Japanese followers are a critical source of income for the church, and accusations of financial exploitation and even child neglect have dogged the organization for decades. The killing of Abe forced the country to confront these issues head-on. As NBC News and The Japan Times reported, Yamagami’s lawyers described how his mother’s devotion intensified after the suicide of her husband and the illness of one of her sons. She became convinced that "throwing all her money and assets into the Church will salvage her family," leading to bankruptcy and a collapse in Yamagami’s own prospects. He gave up on higher education and joined the military, and even attempted suicide in 2005.
Yamagami’s resentment grew, prosecutors said, until he decided to take drastic action. "He began to think he needed a gun" to attack church executives, a prosecutor told the court, but when he failed to obtain one, "he decided that he had to make one himself." The homemade gun became a symbol of both his alienation and his determination. Ultimately, Yamagami believed that killing someone as influential as Abe would draw public attention to what he saw as the church’s abuses.
The aftermath of the assassination was swift and far-reaching. Investigations revealed that more than 100 lawmakers from Abe’s ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) had ties to the Unification Church, a fact that drove down public support for the party and led to the resignation of four ministers. Earlier in 2025, the Tokyo District Court ordered the Japanese branch of the Unification Church to disband, citing the "unprecedented damage" the organization had caused to society. The church was stripped of its tax-exempt status and ordered to liquidate its assets, a dramatic fall for a group that once wielded considerable influence in Japanese politics.
Yet, the story was not just about institutional failures or political intrigue. It was also about personal faith and the limits of loyalty. Yamagami’s mother, despite the tragedy and the public scrutiny, reportedly remained steadfast in her beliefs. In an interview with the Japan Times, she said her faith had grown even stronger after her son assassinated Abe. She is expected to appear as a witness during the trial, which is scheduled to continue through December, with a verdict expected on January 21, 2026.
The legal proceedings themselves have been closely watched, not least because of the rarity of such crimes in Japan. More than 700 people lined up for just 32 seats in the courtroom’s public gallery, according to The Japan Times. The trial had been delayed once before, after a suspicious item was discovered at the courthouse in 2023, prompting an evacuation. Now, with 17 more hearings scheduled, the nation is bracing for a verdict that could bring some measure of closure—or perhaps spark further debate.
Yamagami faces charges of murder and violating Japan’s firearms and arms control laws. While he has admitted to the killing, his legal team is contesting the applicability of certain arms control charges, arguing that his homemade weapon does not fall within the traditional definitions under Japanese law. If convicted of murder, Yamagami faces life imprisonment or the death penalty. The prosecution, for its part, acknowledged the hardships Yamagami suffered due to his mother’s devotion to the church but maintained that such circumstances do not justify his actions.
The assassination also forced Japan to reconsider its approach to gun control. As BBC and NBC News reported, lawmakers passed a bill in 2024 further strengthening arms regulations, especially targeting homemade firearms. Under the new rules, uploading tutorials on making guns or spreading information about gun sales online can now result in fines or imprisonment. The reforms were a direct response to the tragic events in Nara and reflect a broader reckoning with how even a society with strict gun laws can be vulnerable to determined individuals.
The trial’s opening also coincided with a high-profile summit in Tokyo between current Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi—Abe’s protégé and the new leader of the LDP—and visiting U.S. President Donald Trump. The symbolism was not lost on observers. During their meeting at the Akasaka Palace, Takaichi presented Trump with a golf putter that had belonged to Abe, a nod to the close personal and diplomatic ties the late prime minister had cultivated with world leaders.
Shinzo Abe’s legacy remains the subject of intense debate. He was known for his hawkish foreign policy and the economic program dubbed "Abenomics," which sought to revitalize Japan’s sluggish economy. Yet, his efforts to expand Japan’s military role and his party’s entanglements with organizations like the Unification Church have left a complicated imprint on the nation’s history.
As the hearings continue and the country awaits a verdict, Japan is left to ponder not just the fate of Tetsuya Yamagami, but the deeper issues his crime has brought to light: the power of faith, the responsibilities of leaders, and the vulnerabilities even the safest societies can face.
