The takeaway here is that the procedure for securing a new ID in-country, through a different broker and without the pesky problem of having to finagle a passport, is a little safer than trying to provide Ricardo from Mexico City with his new start as Diego from San Juan, a legally papered U.S. citizen. Yeah, it’s the whole border-crossing thing that gets you.
Unless you’re a bird, salmon, or tarantula: adding the immigration element makes travel much more difficult. So let’s set that aside and just deal with brokering a new identity that keeps you inside your national borders.
To cut a long story short and save us both the headache and future court appearance: this method? It’s not worth it.
“But Saul,” you wail in distress, “you—you—you hypocrite!” Yes, I know. I had a guy who knew a guy and all that, and hey, voila, here we are: me in this shadowy place with a new life and you frustrated I just told you my solution might not work for you.
Just remember that as a state-sanctioned officer of the court, it was often my pleasure to defend what our judgmental society might call “the dregs.” Folks who were in dire need of creative and charismatic representation in the courtroom.
Plenty of my clients paid in cold, hard cash. A few, though, had to make arrangements. If you’re the type of guy who collects friends easily, maybe you should consider making the acquaintance of a few less-than-savory characters (all of whom have hearts of gold, their mothers will swear!) who might be able to hook you up when the turkey hits the tarmac.
If you’re not blessed with such a varied social circle, what you’d have to do in order to find a contractor willing to do all this scut work might not be practical. The corners of the Internet where mysterious identity brokers ply their trade are also full of nasty crap like the types of porn that are illegal in all nations and would likely make the devil himself turn up his nose. Sure, you could find marketplaces for authentic new passports and driver’s licenses—but the danger factor is way too high.
I’ve guided clients through some treacherous waters before, but I can’t look over your shoulder and say “don’t click that” or “not sure it’s a good idea to call that number.” Just imagine: you could be shaking some fresh ground pepper all over your Caesar salad while you browse the Dark Net and then—achoo!—your index finger slips and two weeks later, your youthful new bride Oksana is ringing the doorbell. Whoops! So that’s my word on getting a broker to ferry you across the river into your new life: the risk may not be worth the reward for the future Miss Ann Onymous.
So now that we’ve kicked the tires on that “buy your way to a new you” idea and sent it rolling off into the ocean: back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Becoming a person with a different life is a thing people generally only dream about. I’m not talking to the dreamer now, I’m all about the doer. At this point, a doer has a ballpark idea of when he or she wants to pull the trigger and go POOF from the orbits of old friends, family, and kind-hearted creditors.
For some, circumstances may dictate that date. I know for me, it was pretty clear when it was time to go. I looked around and saw that the last chopper out of Saigon had a seat with my name on it.
Of course I had help, but hey, you don’t pass the bar without being a stellar self-starter. I learned a lot from the good folks who assisted me, and I’m passing these savings on to you.
First thing’s first: planting the seeds of that new life as far in advance of your exit date as possible. Let’s break down what you might have to do.…
So what do you want to be called? If you have some terrible burden of a name like Eldon P. Squatcobbler or Bertha Burgerboffer, there might be a temptation to go for something much cooler, like Heather Supermodel or James M. McGill. Cue the descending slide whistle on that sort of ego stroking, friend—that’s the worst approach. Bland, bland, bland. The watch word is “bland.” Manila envelope bland. Suburban strip mall stationery store bland, capisce?
Okay, once you’ve selected an appropriately milquetoast nom de plume, it’s time to consider options for legally acquiring that name.
That’s an option, you know: quietly and covertly changing your name in court. Having said that, the law is arranged to weed out name-change requests done to avoid debt, angry spouses, or Colombian neckties paid for by some cartel boss with a winter home in Tijuana and a Rottweiler named “Pequeño.” A legal name change still leaves a paper trail that stands out like dandruff under a blacklight. And it’s not just unprofessional, it’s potentially fatal. Everything is potentially fatal, I agree, but this is painful fatal.
So, jumping back into the hypothetical end of the pool… let’s just skip the legal means and get right into the splashy fun part: identity theft!
The good folks who assisted me in transferring to the glamorous Undisclosed Location Lifestyle I currently lead let me in on this surprising secret: you can steal someone else’s identity just about as easily as you could pluck a candy bar from a baby’s greasy fingers. To paraphrase celebrity exponent of the Boston accent Matt Damon in the film adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley, it’s almost easier “to be a fake somebody than a real nobody.”
Identity theft is frequently used just to gain access to the victim’s money, but we’re higher minded than that, aren’t we? Forget about that other guy’s money, we just need this new name to make it easier to fade into the woodwork! That’s the thing about an existing ID: it may not be what you stick with, but it can help you acquire the documents you need to, say, fool Canadian border patrol just enough to make it across before you disappear under yet another moniker into those majestic lowlands.
Whoa, there! Listen, I can’t tell you how to do something illegal like that! I can, however, give you some idea of what I’ve learned other people may have tried. This is purely for educational purposes, obviously.
It’s not the kind of thing we think about every day. If it were, it would probably leave us paralyzed with paranoia. But here’s the big, spooky secret behind identity theft: it’s really easy for anyone who knows what they’re doing, because information about us is everywhere. Your bank statements (sent by mail or digitally), utility bills, your subscriptions to both Soap Opera Digest and Soap Opera Weekly… we’re social creatures and we need to have heat and electricity and a place to park our money, and we don’t always realize just how vulnerable that makes us.
So say you’re a forty-something male of medium height—or a thirty-something woman who’s taller than average, whatever works—and you are about the right weight for your age, have thinning or dyed hair, brown eyes, clubbed toes, third nipples. Seek first that which you see in the mirror. As in, someone who kind of reminds you of yourself. That’s what an identity thief might do, anyway.
Now that you’ve acquired your mark, it’s time to do some research.
Here’s a select list of some of the ways an enterprising identity thief might go about boning up on their target:
• Getting the mail! Only it’s another person’s mail, not yours. Just about any piece of mail can provide nuggets of information for you to use. Christmas cards from Grandma give you family information and names, credit card bills can clue you into a person’s financial stability (like, if the bill is three months behind, maybe don’t steal this poor sap’s identity; that’d just be cruel), as well as provide you with account numbers.