Ok, where were we? Right, so I make my way back to school by around 6:30 or so. Jim meets me at the dorm, and says, “Hey, we got time before we need to be there, let’s go eat at the dining hall and I’ll fill you in on what happened.”
So over a steaming pile of Chicken Speedy, Jim gives me the details on the last 48 hours. Apparently Jim and Raf decide to go buy a case of beer at the local supermarket using their fake IDs. The cashier thinks that they look a little odd, and notices that the ID numbers are EXACTLY THE SAME, prompting her to call over the security guard. He takes a look, realizes they’re fake, confiscates them, takes their addresses, and tells them to leave. (It should be noted here that this is the story that Jim told me, as I was out of town. The fact is that over the years I learned that Jim would “alter” the truth, so there’s a strong possibility that all of this is bullshit and they got caught buying booze at a strip bar or something. But I digress)
Later that evening the security guard, who is an off-duty copy trying to earn a few extra bucks, decides that the IDs are too good to just let these two idiots off with a warning. So in the middle of the night, police visit the dorm and take Jim and Raf out in handcuffs for booking and questioning.
Now, here’s where the story is completely full of holes, but I’ll share with you what was shared with me. According to Jim, the cops take Jim and Raf into separate interrogation rooms to learn where they got these fantastic IDs from, and who else has them (apparently they thought my work was part of some sort of underground conspiracy. And this was pre-9/11, so kudos to me, huh?). Jim and Raf give completely different stories, the cops confer, and tell Jim and Raf that they’re full of shit. After this scenario is repeated 2 or 3 times, they finally manage to come up with similar stories–There are two guys that made these IDs, and their names are Luke Ward and John Palen. I say that this part is crap only because after years of recapping this story did I wonder, why were only our two names given when the rest of the floor could have been narc’d on? And after knowing Jim and Raf for a few years afterwards, I learned that they’d sell out their mother to get out of trouble, so I’m sure the interrogation lasted 30 seconds before they gave up our names. But according to Jim, he and Raf “did everything they could” to prevent the cops from learning our identities, and it just happened this way. (Sure, right)
After dinner, Raf and Jim drive John and I over to the Dewitt Police Station. I’ve since told this story to Syracuse locals, and when I mention the Dewitt Police Station, they always laugh. Here’s why: Dewitt is a small offshoot of Syracuse, where the “uppercrust” live. It’s basically the upper middle class suburb of a predominantly lower class city. So their police department is kind of like the Amity Police in “Jaws”, where crimes mostly consist of psuedo-rich retirees complaining about the local high school kids milling about near their prized azalias.
Raf and Jim wait in the car, while John and I go inside to get processed. We walk in, tell the front desk who we are, and an officer comes out to meet us. We’re both shaking, pale and slightly sweaty. I’m expecting some sort of “Law & Order” good copy/bad cop treatment. Instead the sheriff of Stars Hollow comes out smiling and says, “Hey guys, why don’t you come with me?”.
He sits us down in front of his desk (which was something out of the Pottery Barn catalog) and explains that we were brought in because we were named by Jim and Raf, and we’re being charged with a misdemeanor, not a felony. If we were to fake federal IDs (like a SOCIAL SECURITY CARD), we would be charged with a felony. For those that don’t know, misdemeanor=fine/community service, felony=jail. We both grunt in approval when we hear we’re not going to jail.
Officer Smiley takes John’s ID, and begins the paperwork. While doing so, he explains that we’ll probably get community service, but we’ll have to get a lawyer. John asks, “What if we can’t afford one?”, which as college students is a legitimate question. He says, “As a minor, your family’s income is taken into account when determining if you can afford a lawyer, so if you want to plead poverty, we have to call your parents”. Which is awesome, because on top of everything else, we’re going to have to spring for a lawyer to make sure we don’t get 200 hours of community service or somehow wind up at Shawshank.
I’m sweating profusely now because I’m thinking I have no money for a lawyer, I told those two idiots to wait while I make sure I take care of the their ID numbers, and I finally do something to break the rules and look at the steaming pile of shit I’m in now.
Rage and fear are growing steadily inside me as the officer turns to me and asks to see my ID. I tell him I’ve never made one for myself.
“Oh. Well, then you won’t be charged with anything. Ok, John, let’s fingerprint you.”
All the rage and fear and anxiety leave my body. I just got off scott-free because of my cowardice, and now I’m feeling utterly delightful. I turn to look at John, and see that what has left my body and find a home in his. He looks at me with an utter disgust in both me and himself, as if to say, “What the fuck just happened?”
I smile as I watch Officer Smiley try to fingerprint John no less than 3 times because his hand sweat smudges the ink. I laugh a little to myself as John’s mugshot is taken, but not loud enough for anyone to hear. And I certainly enjoy seeing off Raf, John and Jim as they make their way to volunteer at the local veteran’s hospital, where they feed, clean up and possibly even worse, chat with the elderly of upstate New York. Serves them right, I think. Well, except for John, but hey, you can’t make an omelet right?
So that’s the story of how I almost got arrested for making fake IDs. A few years later, I was chatting with a friend, and she was telling us about the presentation the police made at her local sorority about the dangers of fake IDs. When the officer was done talking, he took out a few samples of what constitutes a fake ID, and she was utterly astounded to see Jim’s ugly mug in her hand. Apparently they were really that good.