Ghost in the Wires_ My Adventures as the World's Most Wanted Hacker - Kevin Mitnick [21]
The Pasadena Star-News ran a lengthy article about me. That was followed by an even bigger story in the Sunday Los Angeles Times. Of course, since I was a juvenile, they weren’t allowed to publish my name.
They did anyway, and it would have consequences for me later.
(As a side note to this story, I would later find out that the guy shouting about the logic bomb was Steve Cooley, the assistant district attorney assigned to my case; today, he is top dog, the district attorney for Los Angeles County. My aunt Chickie Leventhal, who has long run an operation called Chickie’s Bail Bonds, knows Cooley; some years ago, after my book The Art of Deception was published, she offered it as one of the prizes for a fund-raiser to benefit a children’s charity that Cooley attended. When she told him I was her nephew, he said he wanted a copy of the book. He asked if I’d sign it and write in it, “We’ve both come a very long way.” Indeed we have. I was glad to do it for him.)
The Juvenile Court judge who heard my case seemed puzzled: I was charged with being a hacker, but I hadn’t stolen and used any credit card numbers, nor had I sold any proprietary software or trade secrets. I had just hacked into computers and phone company systems for the sheer entertainment. The judge didn’t seem to understand why I would do such things without profiting from my actions. The idea that I was doing it for fun didn’t seem to make sense.
Since he wasn’t sure exactly what I was doing once I got into the computers and phone systems, he figured maybe he was missing something. Maybe I was taking money or making a profit in some high-tech way he didn’t comprehend. The whole thing probably made him suspicious.
The truth was, I broke into the phone system for the same reason another kid might break into an abandoned house down the block: just to check it out. The temptation to explore and find out what’s in there was too great. Sure, there might be danger, but taking a risk was part of the fun.
Because this was the first hacking case ever, there was more than a little confusion over exactly what the district attorney could charge me with. While some of the charges were legitimate, having to do with my breaking into and entering the phone company, others were not. The prosecutor claimed that in my hacking I had damaged computer systems at U.S. Leasing. I hadn’t, but it wouldn’t be the last time I was accused of this.
The Juvenile Court judge sent me to the California Youth Authority (CYA) reception facility in Norwalk, California, for a ninety-day psychological evaluation to determine whether I was suited for incarceration in that agency’s facilities. I’ve never been so intimidated. The other kids were there for crimes like assault, rape, murder, and gang hits. These were juveniles, sure, but they were even more violent and dangerous because they felt invincible.
We each had our own room and were kept locked up in it, let out in small groups for only three hours each day.
I wrote a daily letter home, beginning each with “Kevin Mitnick held hostage–Day 1,” “Day 2,” “Day 3.” Even though Norwalk is actually in LA County, it was an hour and a half drive for my mom and her mother, my “Gram.” Loyal beyond my deserving, they came every weekend, bringing food; they would always leave their homes early enough to be the first in line.
My eighteenth birthday came and went while I was being held in Norwalk. Though the California Youth Authority would still have custody of me for some time, I was no longer a juvenile. I knew that for any further offenses, I would be charged as an adult and could, if convicted, be sent to prison.
At the end of my ninety days, the California Youth Authority recommended that I be released to go home on probation, and the judge accepted the recommendation.
My assigned Probation Officer was an extraordinarily obese lady named Mary Ridgeway, who I thought found pleasure only in eating and