(In part one, I described a theft of my belongings and identity in 2002. This series is a jointly written story by me and the thief, describing how that happened and what occurred between us. We hear now from the thief.)
Chuck, the criminal, takes a turn:
I first learned about identity crimes in 1995 from a prostitute I met while in the Marine Corps. We stole mail, cashed checks, and applied for credit cards with assumed identities.
I left the Corps in 1997 and didn’t do crime again until the death of my mother in January of 2002. I was very angry about her death. I decided to take it out on the world. I went to an alternative book store on Adams Avenue. I bought one titled, “How to Create a Brand New Identity from Scratch”. I lived from hotel to hotel, staying at all the nicest ones in the city for one to two weeks at a time, while I taught myself how to steal identities. Eventually I was arrested by Postal Inspectors, convicted on five felony counts of fraud. I served four months in the San Diego County Jail.
On release, I jumped right back into fraud, but armed with more ambition and courage than before. I had acquired additional occupational knowledge from my colleagues in jail. I used P.O. boxes in ritzy neighborhoods like La Jolla for appearances and found it very easy to open them over the phone with a credit card. I was rarely forced to show complete identification for every name listed. Using a company name and later linking multiple people to that account, I was able to receive all of their mail. When I had someone’s personal information, (and very little was necessary), it was simple to contact their credit companies to cancel their current cards and have new ones issued. The card companies would mail the new cards to the home address, but I had enacted a temporary change of address for 12 to 14 days. So the card simply got re-routed to the post box I rented.
Then I started spending a lot of time concentrating on one particular victim, whom I saw as my own personal “golden goose”. His name was Stan Sewitch. The credit union he was using always applied a default code of 1-2-3-4, for new customers on their telephone banking line. The customers are supposed to immediately change it. Most don’t, and neither had Stan. That was how I got in the door. I also wanted to know everything about his life. I studied him for months. I even cracked his pass code for his home telephone answering service, and I would routinely check his messages several times a day. Not many people know that messaging software is accessible through this type of hacking. One day, I heard a message from someone who was investigating the theft of Stan’s identity and that the detective had some leads. Now I knew multiple law enforcement agencies were hot on my tail. But I refused to stop pursuing Stan’s assets. I felt I could “win”.
One night around midnight, I drove up to my hotel, sat in the car with its motor idling and just stared up at the room I was living in. Something felt wrong. I kept staring until finally I trusted my instincts and drove off fast. I went back to Clairemont at about 100 MPH, and pulled into a Travel Lodge to visit a friend. Before I went up, I sat in my Suburban and smoked a cigarette, searching my suspicions and paranoia. Then someone was screaming at me: “Get your f***ing hands up, Chuck, or I will shoot you right in your f***ing face!!” They had me and my briefcase which contained all the evidence they needed. I was convicted of four more felony counts of fraud, and did 8 months in County Jail.
Upon release, I got really heavy into drugs. I was strung out. I got sloppy. Two months later, I was busted by the same Secret Service agent. This time I had counterfeit twenties and fraud paraphernalia. The tools of the trade. I was convicted of five more felony counts of fraud, bringing my grand total to 14. I was sentenced to five years, and sent to Jamestown to be trained as a backcountry firefighter. I did only 22 months of the five-year sentence. During this time, I asked my public defender to send me the police reports of my arrests. I wanted to review my mistakes, and see if any of my friends had turned me in. This was how I first learned of Stan’s proposition.
The report stated that he felt my sentencing was reasonable, and that upon my release, he would suggest I might work for him. He said that this was a way to put my abilities to better use, and might improve my chances of staying out of jail. He said he felt I was a very intelligent man and that if I could direct my energies in positive ways, I could do quite well.
I couldn’t believe what I was reading. My “golden goose” actually wanted to help me after all the crap I did to him! I had no idea how to take it. I debated if and how I should contact him after I was released.
I left jail November 4th, 2005, with a one-way bus ticket, my clothes and the few dollars I had on entry. I think it was my second day out, when I said to myself, “What the hell! What can it hurt?” I searched Stan’s name on Google, and there he was, all over the screen. I found his business website and e-mail address. I contacted him.