Real Estate Investment Articles

I Was a Victim of Identity Theft

By: Phyllis Ten Elshof

My daughter, Laura, and I were shopping in downtown Chicago late one afternoon when I realized my wallet was missing. I fumbled through my purse again and again, then flipped the whole thing upside down, spilling everything out on a counter. It was useless; the wallet was gone. Laura and I gawked at each other, dry-mouthed and trembling, then threw everything back into my purse and raced back to the hospital, where my day had started at 7 a.m.

A Trying Day
After months of tests, biopsies, and doctor's appointments to treat the non-Hodgkin's lymphoma I'd been battling for four years, I'd finally been approved to start a cutting-edge treatment that morning at Northwestern University Hospital.

Chemo went well, but since I reacted to the first stage of treatment with flu-like symptoms, my nurse quickly gave me Demerol. The drug made me sleepy, so I nodded off as my daughter slipped out to get us lunch in the cafeteria. After lunch, we went to the nuclear medicine department where I had an injection and a series of nuclear scans.

Eight hours after we started, we were finally done. We had an hour to kill before we were to meet my husband, Paul, and Laura's toddler, so we indulged in a little shopping. That's when I realized my wallet was missing.

As Laura and I raced back to the hospital, questions flew as fast as our feet: "When was the last time you took out your wallet, Mom—before lunch? Could you have lost it in any other part of the hospital? Did you take out your wallet to pay for afternoon coffee?" When we got to the hospital, we discovered no one had found the wallet.

By the time we slumped into a frazzled heap for supper at a downtown restaurant, Laura and I had figured out when the wallet was taken. Just after my injection of Demerol, I'd given Laura $20 to buy us lunch. She'd replaced the wallet in my purse at the foot of the bed, then left me alone in my private room. While I was sleeping, the wallet disappeared.

Did a hospital employee take it? We strongly suspect so, but we'll never know for sure. What can be verified is that the person who lifted the wallet began hitting gas stations and grocery stores at 4:30 p.m., right after the end of the day shift, racking up charges on my debit card, personal Visa, and company credit card.

Swinging into Action
Though exhausted, once home I couldn't rest until I'd called the issuer of every credit card in my wallet. Mentally, I kicked myself for having so much in there. In addition to bankcards and department credit cards, I had insurance cards, driver's license, supermarket cards, and personal checks—all in one handy little organizer.

By 10 p.m., I'd canceled all the credit cards and frozen the missing checks. Thanks to Laura, whose sister-in-law also had had her wallet stolen and knew whom to call, I'd also registered online with the ID Theft department of the U.S. Government and called the three major credit bureaus. Deciding I could do no more, I finally collapsed into bed.

The next day, my husband and I filed a police report, talked to security people at the hospital, closed accounts and opened new ones at the bank, braved long lines for a new driver's license, replaced supermarket ID cards, and requested a new insurance card (something someone with cancer can't leave home without).

Through all that frenzy, I prayed for wisdom, guidance, and the right perspective. If the person who took the wallet genuinely needed the groceries and gas already charged on my cards, I could let that go. It was harder to think of all the people who had access to me in that hospital room. I quickly wrote off the nurses who had tended me through treatment—why in the world would they risk their jobs by ripping off a patient? It was easier to suspect someone in a short-term job, such as housekeeping, who might have drifted into my room.

I couldn't stop feeling on edge. Every time I was out in public and someone nudged me or got too close, I'd instinctively shy away. A week after the theft, when an x-ray technician asked me to empty my pockets, where I'd stored a debit card and some cash, my response was "Not on your life!"

In the meantime, I couldn't shake off the worrisome thought: Who had taken my wallet, and what was that person doing with the contents? "Please, Lord, let me find out who did this," I prayed. "And help me stop judging every person I meet."

The Answers Start Coming
Two messages were waiting for me on the answering machine when I got home from my final day of treatment. Both were from detectives in Greenville, Mississippi. Five people had been arrested at a casino in Greenville. Employees got suspicious after several checks were written for large sums of money—the second day in a row—and called the police. When the arresting officers checked the thieves' car, they found it stuffed with stolen goods. In that stash were my checks, driver's license, even a copy of my credit report.

Apparently the person who stole my wallet from the hospital was part of a ring of thieves who went on a two-week stealing spree until they'd collected enough to hit the casinos in Mississippi. They altered driver's licenses like mine for ID purposes, ordered credit reports, tried opening some new accounts in Chicago (a furniture store rejected one in my name when the credit bureau stopped it), then headed South.

Exercising Damage Control
The thieves wrote almost $7,000 worth of bad checks on my account. But that was just the beginning. In the coming months I discovered the full import of what it meant to have my identity stolen.

For example, when I tried to write a check on my new account for groceries a few weeks after the theft, the check was rejected. The same thing happened at a department store. Each time, the cashier looked at me like I was dirty. I felt dirty.

When I learned my driver's license number was the problem, I called the Illinois Secretary of State's office and was told how to get a new number on my license. That cleared up the check-writing problem some. But just as I was losing the jitters every time I'd write a check, I'd suddenly be challenged again. "Sorry, I can't accept this," the checkout girl would say, handing back the check. I'd sigh and reach for my debit card, trying to avoid the stares of the customers behind me.

This time the problem was the check-protection service used by the store. Telechek or Certegy had put a freeze on my name.

Almost six months after the theft, the registered letters started coming—this time from the casinos whose checks had been bounced by their check-protection service.

I got used to early-morning visits from the mailman. I'd open the door, sign the clipboard, and take the letter. I'd bite back a primal scream as I called the credit department of Isle of Capri or Harrah's or Horseshoe Casino. Then I'd wearily reach for the file marked "Stolen Wallet," and send off more documentation to prove I hadn't bounced the checks.

What I've Learned
Years ago, when we sold a house for little more than we'd paid for it, my sister told me, "It's only money. You'll get over it." That came back to me in the aftermath of the stolen wallet. I had lost the cash in it, but not much. Far greater was the loss of my financial reputation. I can no longer open a charge account today without a hassle. I can't write a check at a supermarket without wondering if I'll be challenged. I can't reach for mail without fearing another letter demanding payment on a returned check.

On the other hand, I've learned some important lessons through this theft. One of them is forgiveness. I can't pretend I've excused the person who took my wallet, then used its contents to go on a gambling binge. What she did was wrong. But soon after the theft, I realized I could do little to either find the thief or bring her to justice. I did what I could, then left the rest to God. And what he did amazed nearly every bank official, detective, and security person with whom I worked. Not only were the thieves apprehended—they were jailed, fingerprinted, and charged by local, state, and federal officials. Time after time, I heard, "I can't believe it—people like this never get caught!"

That's not all. I probably won't ever have to drive to Mississippi to testify against the people who took my wallet. As much as I dislike gambling, I'm grateful to God for the woman in the collections department of the Isle of Capri Casino who said to me, "Don't worry about pressing charges—we'll do that. They stole from us too!"

Harder in this process of forgiveness was combating my mistrust of others. In a way, that was the unfinished part of the forgiveness process. I found myself pulling away from strangers, which was hardly my style. How can you witness to people if you don't trust them? I prayed about that often, but the fear persisted. Months later, I was back at Northwestern Hospital, this time in the emergency room with a friend who had fallen and broken her shoulder. After all the tests were done, we went to get a prescription at the hospital pharmacy. Still in great pain and a bit hazy from medication, Donna signed the necessary forms, then sank into a chair next to me.

A woman on the other side leaned over and pointed to something on the floor. "Did your friend drop that?" she asked.

It was Donna's wallet. And no one had stolen it.

I can't say I've been free from mistrust ever since, but I did take a giant leap away from it that day. And today at least my fear of being ripped off by others has eased. At the same time, I've learned some lessons about preventing victimization through ID theft:

Travel light. A friend who also had her purse stolen says she rarely carries a purse. She wears a backpack and tucks one credit card and a little cash in an inside pocket or in her shoe. Likewise, I've learned to leave most credit cards as well as my checkbook at home when I'm traveling. I've also separated my checkbook from a small wallet so the person who might get one doesn't get it all.

Be organized. Someone at work suggested periodically writing down all the contents in your wallet. You might take that a step further. Write down all the credit-card contact numbers so that if your cards are stolen, you can quickly report the theft and cancel the cards.

Don't take the blame. The cashier who rejects my check doesn't mean to be rude; she's just doing her job. On the other hand, I don't have to feel compelled to explain myself. I can fight for my reputation in other ways than blabbing the details of the theft to a perfect stranger.

Don't give up. It's been six months since the theft, and I've grown weary of cleaning up after it. Yet I can't quit until the last registered letter is answered and the final check accounted for. My financial reputation depends on it.

Use it to help others. Several months after the theft, a coworker gave her friend my number. It seems her purse had been stolen while she was eating dinner at a Chicago restaurant. After listening to her story and walking her through the procedures for damage control, I heard something that cut to the heart. "Tell me, Phyllis, are you ever afraid that these people might come after you? They have all your personal information, including where you live."

I'd thought about that after my wallet was stolen. I prayed about it. And I came to realize that the thieves didn't want me—they wanted my money.

When I told her that, she started crying. "You'll be fine," I reassured her. "God will take care of you."

They can get your money, your credit cards, and your checkbook. They can alter your driver's license and write bad checks in your name. They can steal your financial identity, but they can't steal you. That belongs to Jesus. And that's 100 percent secure from any identity theft.

The rest is only money. You'll get over it.

Phyllis Ten Elshof, resources editor at Christianity Today International, lives with her husband in the Chicago area.

If Your Wallet's Stolen…

First, you panic and pray. Then you get busy. Here's what to do.

1. LIST EVERYTHING IN YOUR PURSE or wallet, including driver's license, social security card, insurance and supermarket cards, checks, frequent diner or frequent flyer cards. Forget the cash; it's the least of your worries.

2. CALL EACH CREDIT-CARD ISSUER and report the card stolen.

3. IF CHECKS WERE STOLEN, call your bank and put a freeze on the checks. If possible, report exactly what numbers were stolen. Close the account and open a new one. For another level of protection, close your savings accounts and transfer the balance to new accounts. Freezing checks or closing the checking account won't necessarily prevent a thief from writing checks on your account.

4. REPORT THE THEFT TO THE U.S. GOVERNMENT: 1-877-IDTHEFT or www.consumer.gov/idtheft.

5. CALL THE THREE MAJOR CREDIT BUREAUS: Transunion (800-680-7289); Experian (888-397-3742); and Equifax (800-525-6285). Ask for credit reports. Review them. If someone other than you has opened any accounts, report them as forgeries.

6. FILE A POLICE REPORT in the city in which the theft took place. You'll be sent a letter verifying that the report was filed. The letter is enough to send to the businesses that cashed checks written by the thief. I've sent out dozens of copies of the letter I received from the Chicago Police Department.

7. FILE AN AFFIDAVIT of theft report with your bank. Your bank may give you a letter affirming your reputation as a customer and as a fraud victim. Include this in any packet you need to send verifying theft or fraud.

8. CONTACT CHECK-PROTECTION SERVICES such as Telechek and Certegy once your checks start bouncing. Keep packets of documentation handy.

9. PROVIDE THE SAME DOCUMENTATION TO STORES that accepted the forged checks. That's because once Telechek and Certegy receive proof the checks were stolen, they return them to the vendors who cashed them. The stores then kick in their debt recovery system.

10. GET A NEW DRIVER'S LICENSE with a new number, if the stolen checks were used. This is crucial because your driver's license number is your ID for writing checks.

11. WRITE A LIST of any companies or services that draw on the stolen credit cards. For example, I had to give my new Visa number to my sports club, Internet provider, mortgage lender, and book club. I also had to change the account numbers for direct deposit of my payroll check.

12. RELAX. You've done everything you can. One day you'll suddenly realize you haven't gotten a threatening phone call or letter in months. You may still have a few bumps along the road, like someone refusing to issue you a new account without sending it to your home address, but take that as a good thing: It's protecting you from thieves who might try to do the same thing.

Source:
http://www.christianitytoday.com/tcw/2004/006/11.70.html

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