When we think of criminals, we tend to think of two types: The street-level thug committing his crimes with a gun or a fist, and the upper-level management, dictating orders to the thugs below. But there's a third type: The guys who picks up the phone and decide that crime sounds like a fun thing to do today. And sometimes -- not often, but sometimes -- they succeed in astounding ways.
5Interstate Bank Robbery
The prize for Greatest Telephonic Bank Robber of All Time goes to the as-yet-unknown super-criminal who managed to rob $58,000 from four banks across four state lines back in 1973, using nothing more than a series of phone calls.
Wait, why didn't they catch him? There are giant arrows pointing right to him!
The robber kicked off his long distance spree in Nashville, then moved on to Springfield, Illinois, Topeka, Kansas, and St. Paul, Minnesota. He was about to scoop up $16,280 in Indianapolis, but the feds finally caught on by that point and had a trap set up for him ... which he obviously slipped.
You may have noticed that these telephonic bank hits all took place in state capitals. Coincidence?
Or incredibly boring world tour?
Of course not.
How He Did It:
In each case, the mystery caller (whom we will refer to as the Capitalist from now on) would phone up local banks, posing as an aide to the state treasurer. He then requested that thousands of dollars in cash be sent to the treasurer's office, for "payroll" purposes. Miraculously, that's all it took: Mentioning generic terms like "payroll" and "treasury" sent whole banks scurrying to ship huge amounts of money as soon as humanly possible. The Capitalist even arranged for Brink's armored trucks to transport the funds, and, in one case, even a state trooper to escort the money. And again: There were no accomplices, no brilliant hacks and no dynamited vaults -- he did all of this alone, and entirely by telephone.
After all, they don't give just anybody telephones.
After the money was safely en route, the Capitalist would immediately call the treasurer's office, claiming to be an official from the bank -- which had made an error -- and ask that the money be rerouted to a different state office. Step 3, as is so often the case with unsolved crimes, is still a series of question marks to this day, but Step 4 was always "profit": He somehow got his hands on the money, every time, and absconded with it scot-free. Just as mysteriously, the Capitalist somehow knew about the feds' trap in Indianapolis and never showed to pick up the money there. Afterward, he ceased all activities and simply walked -- or possibly flew on a blimp shaped like the capitol building -- away, never to be identified or apprehended, with more than $58,000 (close to $300,000 when adjusted for 2011 dollars) in his pockets -- or possibly in giant green bags with dollar signs on them.
"We didn't get much of a bonus that quarter."
Long before people were hacking computers, they were hacking phone lines. They called themselves phreakers, because everybody knows nothing freaks out the squares like digraph substitution. Back in the 1960s and '70s, phreakers would game the telephone systems for stuff like free long distance and conference calls. Since old phone systems worked entirely off of tones, some of the very best phreakers could hack simply by whistling into a handset. And because life is awesome and apparently comic book logic actually applies sometimes, some of the early masters were blind: Josef Carl "Joybubbles" Engressia found that, because he'd been deprived of his sight, his heightened sense of pitch allowed him to whistle-hack phone lines effortlessly like some sort of criminal/songbird hybrid.
Cut to 2005: 15-year-old Matthew "Lil Hacker" Weigman is considered by the modern phreak community to be one of the best young phone hackers out there. But before you get cute, old-timey images in your head of whistling rogues hacking free phone calls to their sweethearts, you should know that modern phreaking is more about delusional sociopathy than inventively exploiting archaic technology.
Case in point: When Richard Gasper, the father of a phone phreak groupie -- yes, there is such a thing, and no, that sadness you're feeling inside won't ever go away -- denied Weigman's 3 a.m. request to have phone sex with Gasper's groupie daughter, Wiegman did precisely what you'd expect: He hung up.
And then sent in a SWAT team to exact his revenge.
They all agreed it would be totally hilarious.
How He Did It:
First, Lil Hacker made sure the 911 call was caller ID spoofed, meaning that it showed up as actually originating from within the Gasper residence.
Aaand that's the end of our high-tech hacking segment: It was just simple impersonation and persuasion that convinced the 911 operator that Weigman was an armed gunman holding the Gasper family hostage. You can hear the actual recording here, and you have to admit, it was a pretty damn convincing performance for a 15-year-old kid. Perhaps blindness has lent Weigman a heightened sense of behaving like a psychopath. At any rate, when Gasper stepped out into the police floodlights, explaining for the second time that he'd simply been pranked by a spurned and horny teenage boy, SWAT scoffed at him -- "Ha! Can you believe he tried that old excuse?" -- and slapped on the handcuffs.
"And you say Mr. Gasper is a 'complete dickhead'? We'll inform the negotiator."
Lil Hacker was eventually caught, but not by an elite squad of technological anti-heroes in a battle of code: He didn't like having an investigator following him, so he showed up on said investigator's doorstep with his big brother and threatened to beat him up.
Forget your shining towers of light and zipping light cycle battles: That's what hacking really looks like, ladies and gentlemen.
Less of this and more hilarious petty scheming.