"I've Got to Follow Her"
Karen Lodrick ordered a latte at Starbucks while waiting nervously for the bank on San Francisco's Market Street to open. She had been anxious and distracted of late but couldn't help noticing the scruffy-looking pair standing next to her: a tall man wearing a navy baseball jacket and a large woman in jeans and Gucci glasses, carrying a brown suede coat and a Prada purse. The woman looked vaguely familiar.
That coat. A cold tingle of fear ran through Karen as she took it all in. The distinctive faux-fur trim along its edges looked as unkempt as the woman who held it. And then -- bingo -- she knew. Karen's ID had been stolen five months before. Her bank account had been emptied, and her life sent reeling out of control. The coat she was looking at was the same one she'd seen in the bank surveillance tape, worn by the woman who'd stolen Karen's ID.
Karen followed the pair onto the patio and watched as they settled at a round table under a burgundy window awning. She called 911, asked that a police officer meet her, then settled at the next table, watching and waiting on this morning in April 2007.
Just the day before, Karen's bank had called after closing hours to tell her that she'd left her driver's license at a branch on Market and Church streets. But Karen had never been to that branch. And her real driver's license was still in her wallet. The con artist must have come back to retrieve the phony license.
A cell call from her friend Ed Fuentes interrupted her thoughts. She walked toward the hedges that bordered the Starbucks patio, out of earshot of the pair, and told him her suspicions.
The large woman and her companion stole glances at Karen, looking increasingly nervous. Then they got up from the table and separated. The man turned south. The woman headed north.
"Ed, I've got to go," she told her friend. "I've got to follow her."
"Don't do anything crazy, Karen," said Fuentes. "She could have a gun."
"I've got to do it." She feared that if she didn't act, the identity thief would disappear, along with any hope of ending her bad dream. The chase was on.
For five months, the thief had dipped into Karen's accounts like they were her own private piggy bank. She scammed thousands of dollars more, using credit cards she opened in Karen's name. The banks were unable to stop her. The police could do nothing. Creditors demanded payment for the thief's transactions. Karen closed her accounts, only to have the criminal crack open the new ones she'd opened and drain those too.
The woman turned a corner. Karen's phone rang. The caller ID said "unknown caller." Karen looked up the street and saw that the woman had her cell phone out. Could she be checking to see if the real Karen Lodrick was on her tail? And where were the police?
As Karen approached a recycling center at the corner of Buchanan Street, a man stood looking quizzically at her, then at the woman she was following.
"Do you know her?" she asked.
"No. Do you?"
Karen told him she thought the woman had stolen her identity. "You're not the first person to say that about her," he said, arousing her suspicion about him as well. Was he an accomplice? Karen again called 911 as the woman took off up the hill, looking over her shoulder at Karen every few seconds.
"I need somebody to come to Buchanan and Market," Karen told the 911 operator who answered. "She is running. I need the police."
"What's the problem, ma'am?"
"This woman has been taking my identity. For the last five months. It's been a living hell."
There was an odd voice mail from Karen's bank waiting when she returned home to San Francisco in November 2006 from a family reunion in Michigan. Karen called back, and the service rep asked if she'd made any large withdrawals and mentioned one in the amount of $600. Karen assumed it was a bank error and asked the rep to verify the debit card number.
"That's not my card," she said.
The bank representative insisted -- mistakenly, as Karen later learned -- that someone had called from Karen's phone to order the new debit card. After much back-and-forth, Karen convinced the rep that it wasn't hers, and he canceled it. What he failed to mention was that a second new debit card had been issued on her account. And it was still open.
Concerned after the bank rep told her the order came from her home phone, Karen asked her neighbors if they'd heard about any break-ins. They hadn't. But several people in her building mentioned that they'd seen mailboxes hanging open. A thief had apparently broken into the mail and stolen at least four envelopes: two with debit cards and two that provided the debit card PINs.
As far as Karen knew, the thief had stolen $600. Bad enough, but not life-altering. It wasn't until she got to the bank, and a representative turned the computer screen around for her to see, that she understood what had occurred. Screen after screen showed dozens of withdrawals, just over the past few days. About $10,000 was gone. Karen's balance was zero. Her overdraft protection plan had automatically deducted another $1,200 from savings to cover the shortfall after the thief had cleaned out the checking account.
Karen filed a police report, closed her now-empty account and submitted a claim. With no money to cover checks, she couldn't pay her bills, her rent. She couldn't even buy groceries. Late fees were compounded by black marks on her credit report. And that was just the beginning.
At five-two and 110 pounds, Karen Lodrick was tiny compared with the nearly six-foot-tall woman carrying the brown suede coat. Block after block in downtown San Francisco, Karen chased the woman, keeping the 911 operator on the phone to let her know exactly where they were.
She lost sight of the woman after she turned a corner. But as Karen looked through the French doors leading into a stately old apartment building, there she was again. One glance at Karen and the woman took off down the hill toward Market Street, a main thoroughfare with multiple lanes in either direction.
Traffic whizzed by. Locals strolled the tree-lined sidewalks and walked in and out of funky coffeehouses. Some, toting bags of bottles and aluminum cans, meandered toward the recycling center. People of every description moved along Market Street. But she didn't see any police officers.
A Prolonged Nightmare
As the identity thief passed an abandoned shopping cart, Karen saw her arm swing out. She tossed something inside. Karen raced to the cart. "I got what she dropped," she told the 911 operator. "It's a wallet. A Prada wallet." Karen wanted to look inside, but she had no time.
The thief ran into a busy intersection against the light and flagged down a taxi. Karen panicked. "She is not going to get away," she cried to the operator. "I am not going to let her escape." She caught the taxi before the driver pulled out.
"Don't let her go!" she implored. "She's an identity thief." The driver lifted his hands off the wheel and held them up. Her escape thwarted, the woman got out and confronted Karen.
"Why are you chasing me?"
For an instant, Karen felt doubt. What if this wasn't the thief? She tried to convince the woman to wait for the police. But she took off down Market Street again, toward Octavia, where the freeway spilled out its traffic. Karen kept after her.
A vintage orange streetcar pulled up to the bus stop, and the woman jumped aboard, Karen right behind. Adrenaline pumping, she was totally focused on the thief.
"Please don't drive away," Karen told the driver. The thief quickly ducked off again. "Why don't you just wait and you can talk to the police?" Karen called.
To Karen's surprise, the woman answered, saying she was on probation and would be arrested. Karen now had no doubt she'd found the right person.
It drove Karen crazy that it took about two weeks for the bank's credit card division to process the problem and recredit money to her account. She felt hopeful when the bank called to tell her it had a surveillance video of the thief. On it Karen saw a big, dark-haired woman in a suede coat and designer sunglasses at an ATM. Karen signed an affidavit that she didn't know the woman, got a printout of her image, and that was it.
Meanwhile, the thief reached deeper into Karen's life. She used her Social Security number and other information to get a counterfeit driver's license, showing Karen's license number but the thief's picture. With the license and the Social Security number, she reopened accounts that Karen had closed years before.
One day, the Dell computer company called Karen to confirm that it was all right to send "her" $7,000 order to an address different from the one on her account.
"Close that account and don't deliver those computers," she told Dell's rep, explaining someone had stolen her identity. She asked for the address the thief had wanted the equipment sent to. Dell refused to give her the address, saying she'd have to put the request in writing.
Karen placed fraud alerts with the credit reporting agencies. But that didn't stop the thief from opening more accounts in Karen's name. Again and again, she asked the bank to put an alert on her account, but when she checked, it wasn't there. The thief got into her new bank account, and the whole cycle began again. She was at her wit's end.
To add to her frustration, the bank claimed Karen had failed to come in to view the surveillance video. It didn't matter that she'd signed an affidavit. The bank couldn't find it and cut off access to her funds. She viewed the video again and signed another affidavit. The bank lost that one too. She signed another.
Now, with a phony driver's license, the thief was stalking her third checking account.
For half an hour, up and down the streets, around corners and into alleyways, Karen Lodrick, frightened but determined, pursued the woman with the suede coat. Karen lost her twice when she slipped into buildings to hide. And then she lost her a third time at an indoor parking lot. "It's over," she told the 911 operator. Exasperated and exhausted, Karen zipped open the Prada wallet.
Two of her bank statements were tucked into one side of the large wallet. On the other were the two debit cards used to clean out her account in November. She also found one of her own paychecks. But what chilled her most were tiny "cue cards" with her name, Social Security number, driver's license number and address.
The 911 operator assured her that an officer would be there as soon as he finished an emergency call, and Karen agreed to wait by the entrance to the garage. When the cop arrived a few minutes later, Karen told him what had occurred, feeling little hope that he'd find the woman now.
But only moments later, the officer found her -- crouched between a car and the building, smoking a cigarette.
"Idiot! You should have kept running," Karen told her.
Epilogue
The arresting officer said the identity thief, Maria Nelson, had at least 60 prior arrests, was indeed on probation and was wanted in another jurisdiction for similar crimes. When Nelson came before a judge 44 days later, however, thanks to a plea deal with the prosecutor, she was sentenced to only time served plus probation.
Meanwhile, Karen keeps getting billed for phone service and items at a department store that she didn't buy. And she fears her ID may have been sold on the black market, prolonging her nightmare.
译文:
追捕身份窃贼【读者文摘】--Shaunna版
“我必须得跟踪她”
凯伦·洛瑞克在星巴克一边焦急地等待位于旧金山市场大道的银行开门，一边点了杯拿铁咖啡。她显得很焦急，害怕会迟到，但这也无法不让她注意到她身边穿着邋遢的一对：个子高高的男人身着一件海军棒球夹克衫，大个子女人穿了条牛仔裤，戴了副Gucci眼镜，手里拎了件褐色仿麂皮外套和一个Prada钱包。这个女人看起来很眼熟。
就是那件外套。当凯伦回想起时，一种冰冷刺痛的恐惧蹿上她全身。过于明显的人造毛修边让它看起来跟她的女主人一样邋遢。然后，她想起来了。凯伦的身份在五个月前被偷了。她的银行账号已被取空，而她的生活也完全失去了控制。她所看到的外套正是她在银行监控录像中看到的那件，也正是穿这件外套的女人偷了她的身份。
凯伦跟随这两个人来到庭院，看着他们在一个酒红色遮阳篷下的圆桌旁坐下。她拨打了911，并要求警察前来见她，随后便在隔壁一张桌子落坐，一边监视那两个人，一边等警察来，那时正值2007年4月的一个早上。
就在事情发生的前一天，凯伦账户所在银行在营业结束后给她打了个电话，通知凯伦她落了驾照在市场大街和教堂街的分行。然而，凯伦从未去过那个分行。且她的驾照还在她自己的钱包里。那骗子应该会去拿回那假驾照。
朋友艾德·富恩特斯的来电打断了凯伦的思绪。径步走至星巴克庭院边界，避开那两人，凯伦告诉他自己的猜疑。
高个子女人和她的同伴偷瞄了凯伦一眼，看过去异常紧张。他们随后站起身，并分了手。男人转身向南走。女人朝北。
“艾德，我得走了，”凯伦跟朋友说道，“我得跟着她去。”
“别太冲动，凯伦，”富恩特斯说道，“她可能有枪。”
“我必须得这么做。”凯伦害怕如果她还不采取任何行动，身份窃贼很有可能会消失，而她也将失去结束这场噩梦的任何希望。追捕行动就此展开。
五个月来，窃贼随意动用凯伦的账号，就像那是她的私人储钱罐。她骗取了上千美金，随意使用以凯伦的名字申请的信用卡账号。银行没有办法阻止她。警察也无能为力。债权人要求凯伦为此偿还债务。凯伦关闭了她的账户，但没多久犯罪人又重新开了她已关闭的账户并随取随用。
那女人拐了个弯。凯伦的手机响了。显示的是“未知来电”。凯伦看了看大街，看到那女人也正拿着手机。难道她是想确认真的凯伦·洛瑞克是否在跟踪她？警察又在哪里？
就在凯伦接近布坎南街转角的废品回收站时，一个男人站定，疑惑地看着她，然后转而看向她跟踪的那个女人。
“你认识她吗？”凯伦问道。
“不认识。你呢？”
凯伦告诉这个男人她认为那女人偷了她的身份。“你不是第一个这么说的人。”男人答道，同时引发了凯伦对他的怀疑。他会是同谋吗？当那女人开始往小山上走时，隔几秒就透过肩膀看看凯伦，凯伦再次拨通了911。
“有什么事吗，女士？”
“我需要立即有人来布坎南和市场大街，”凯伦对着911接线员说道，“她在逃跑。我需要警察。”
“这女人盗走了我的身份。已经五个月了。那简直就是地狱般的日子。”
2006年11月，当凯伦从密西根州的家庭聚会回到旧金山家的时候，她发现了一个奇怪的来自银行的语音留言。回拨过去，客服问她是否曾有过高达600美金的大面额取款。凯伦设想那是银行的失误，并要求客服能再次确认借记卡金额。
“那不是我的卡，”凯伦说道。
银行客服一再坚持，到后来，凯伦才明白，有人用她的电话来开通新的借记卡。来回反复几次后，凯伦劝服客服，使他相信不是她做的，然后客服才将卡取消了。客服没告诉凯伦她账号的另一张新借记卡已申请。而且一直是开着的。
由于银行客服说申请都来自固定电话，凯伦便询问她的邻居是否有听说入室盗窃的事发生。他们说没有。但与她住同一幢楼的邻居说曾看到信箱有被开过。很明显，窃贼是敲开了信箱的锁，偷走了至少四封邮件：两封借记卡信，两封借记卡密码信。
凯伦目前所知的是，那个窃贼偷走了600美金。糟的是，仍旧无法改变她的生活。直到她去银行，客服给她看了电脑显示，她才明白过来到底发生了什么。一屏接一屏的十几次取款记录，不过发生在短短几天内。一万美金就这么没了。凯伦的余额显示为零。当那个窃贼透支完凯伦的支票存储账户时，她的透支保护计划自动从她的存款账户扣除另外一笔1200美金来填补差额。
凯伦在警局立了案，关闭了她已空无一文的账户，并提交了一份索赔。由于没钱再能填补支票空缺，她付不了帐单和房租。甚至无法买东西。滞纳金让她的信用度降低。而这还只是开始。
对于只有5英尺2英寸高，体重110磅的凯伦来说，与那个拎着褐色仿麂皮外套，将近6英尺高的女人简直无法相比。旧金山市中心，凯伦一个街区一个街区地跟踪那女人，手机一直与911保持通话，好知道他们的位置。
那女人拐了个弯后，脱离了凯伦的视线。但当她扫视到一座庄严的旧公寓的法式大门时，又看到了那个女人。她瞥了凯伦一眼，随即朝着市场大街走下山，那是有着双向多车道的主要通道。
人们不停地在两旁栽满树的人行道闲逛，来回走进走出新式咖啡馆，使得交通繁忙异常。一些人手提装满空瓶和铝罐子的袋子走向回收站。形形色色的人穿梭于市场大街。但凯伦却未曾看到哪怕一个警察。
纠缠不休的噩梦
凯伦看到身份窃贼经过被丢弃的购物车旁时挥了下手。她丢了些东西在购物车里。凯伦跑了过去。“我拿到了她扔的东西。”她告诉911接线员，“是个钱包。Prada钱包。”凯伦本想打开钱包查看下，可惜时间太紧迫。
窃贼不理会信号灯跑去繁忙的十字路口，并拦了辆出租车。凯伦开始感到恐慌。“她不可能逃脱的，”她朝着接线员大喊，“我不能让她就这么跑掉。”在司机准备开车时，凯伦跑出去拦住了出租车。
“别让她跑了！”她恳求道，“她是个身份窃贼。”司机的双手从方向盘上移开，并举了起来。见逃跑计划受阻，那女人便下了车，与凯伦纠缠了起来。
“你干嘛要跟踪我？”
那一瞬间，凯伦感到疑惑了。如果她不是那个窃贼呢？她开始尝试说服那个女人跟她一起等警察来。但她立即又朝市场大街走去，走向奥克塔维亚，那是没有交通限制的高速公路。凯伦尾随着她。
一辆旧式橘色街车驶进公交车站，那女人跳了上去，凯伦就在她身后。凯伦心跳加速，她完完全全把注意力放在了这个窃贼身上。
“请不要开车。”凯伦对司机说。那女人随即又闪开身去。“为什么你不等警察来呢？”凯伦问道。
出乎凯伦意料之外，那女人竟然开口了。她说她还在服缓刑，很有可能会被逮捕。此时此刻，凯伦肯定自己找对了人。
两个星期以来对银行区分信用卡以跟进解决问题，及重新为其账户申请信用额度的事情已让凯伦近乎崩溃。因此当银行打电话跟她说存有窃贼的监控录像时，凯伦感到充满了希望。从监控录像中，凯伦看到一个女人站在ATM机前。高个子，黑头发，身穿一件仿麂皮外套，戴着一副品牌墨镜。凯伦签署了一份宣誓书以证明她不认识这个女人，并拿了一份这女人肖像的复印件。
与此同时，窃贼已越发深入凯伦的生活。她使用了凯伦的社保号和其他一些个人信息来获取假驾照，驾照上的是凯伦的驾照号和窃贼的照片。随后，她又利用驾照和社保号重开了凯伦在好几年前已关闭掉的银行账户。
某天，戴尔电脑公司打电话给凯伦，跟她确认将一台价值7000美金的电脑寄去与她账户所留的不同地址是否安全。
“关了那个账号，也别寄电脑来。”凯伦解释说有人偷了她的身份。她询问戴尔公司代表能否告知她设备原本要寄去的地址。戴尔公司拒绝了她，并解释说她必须进行书面申请。
凯伦在信用报告机构备了案。但这并无法组织那个骗子以她的名义开了更多的账户。周而复始，凯伦让银行对她的账户进行某些警告措施，但当她再次确认时，还是什么都没有。那个骗子还是可以进入她的新银行账号，整个过程一再重复发生。凯伦已无计可施。
更雪上加霜的是，银行声明凯伦再没有浏览监控录像的权利。即使她签署了宣誓书。原因是银行丢了那张宣誓书，并切断了对她资金访问的权限。于是凯伦又重新看了一遍录像，签了另一份宣誓书。但银行同样还是给弄丢了。她只好又再签了一份。
如今，骗子又利用假驾照，开了第三个信用卡账户。
接近半个小时在大街上跑来跑去，串街走巷，凯伦虽然害怕却很坚定，一直追着穿仿麂皮外套的女人不放。当她躲进大厦时，凯伦曾跟丢两次。接着她又在室内停车场跟丢了第三次。“结束了，”她告诉911接线员。恼怒而疲累的凯伦打开了那个Prada钱包。
她的两封银行对账单夹在大钱包的一边。另一边是两张早在去年11月份就被关闭掉的借记卡。她还找到她自己的工资单。但更令她战栗的是一张张写着她名字的小小的“提示卡”：社保号，驾照号和住址。
911接线生保证警察会在完成紧急任务后尽快赶到，凯伦同意在车库出口等。几分钟后，警察到了，凯伦告诉他所发生的一切，感觉应该有希望能抓到那个女人。
但过了会，警察就找到了她，她正蜷缩在汽车和大厦间抽烟。
“笨蛋！你应该要跑的，”凯伦冲她喊。
结局
负责逮捕的警员说这个身份窃贼，玛丽亚·尼尔森，之前已有过至少60次的被逮捕记录，正在服缓刑，并由于其他类似案件而被通缉。当尼尔森被判刑44天后，由于检察官的辩护，她才会被改判为刑期已满，执行缓刑。
其间，凯伦还是继续收到电话清单及商店购买帐单。她开始害怕自己的身份已被卖入黑市。噩梦还是没有结束。
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