Oh, yeah.

This is a long one. Even for me. Seriously, it's taken me three days to write it; you're going to be here for a while. But, trust me, it's worth reading the whole thing. Just get comfy.

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I went to bed a little before 12:30. I was tired. And, if you've read my last post, you could tell that I haven't been in the best mood lately. So, naturally, it didn't help my mood when the cops came knocking on my door at 1:30 in the morning to serve me with a summons.

Sean heard them first, and woke me up with "Craig, there's some cops here to talk to you."

I stumbled out of bed and put on my robe, still very much half-alseep and trying to figure out what the hell the police were doing at our apartment. At 1:30 in the morning. It could't have been an unpaid parking ticket....

I'll be honest: I half remember what was said. There were three of them, two by the door and one further into the apartment. They asked if I was Craig Klein and then announced that they were serving me with a summons. For insurance fraud. And that I had to appear before a grand jusry at the Superior Court on Friday at 9:00 AM. In Massachusettes.

Yeah. That's what I said.

They asked me if I had been in Massachusettes lately. Not since 1998. They asked me if I knew a Sean Nisivoccia, a Charles Nisivoccia, or Luis Perez. I had not. Unimpressed with bleating protests that I could not be the person they were looking for, they told me to call a lawyer. They gave me the summons and then they left.

Now, being thrust head-first into this bewildering, surreal crisis, I did what any stout fellow would do, and promptly fell apart.

I called my parents, half-seriously thinking they could solve the problem. I related what had happened and we reviewed the summons. It was eleven pages--there were three seperate summons, all for charges that took place in 2003. Strangely, the cover letter of the summons referred to me as "Dr. Craig Klein", though the actual summons did not use the medical prefix. This was the best clue I had that this was a case of mistaken identity, although at the time my worst fear was that this was a case of identity theft, which would make things far more difficult. After all, proving I'm not someone is one thing, but how easy is it to prove that you are you and that someone else isn't when they have the same pieces of evidence that prove you are you?

My parents did their best to keep me calm and focused. They suggested, even at this late hour, to call the Lawernce Police Department, the place that faxed the summons to the Bloomfield police. The summons listed two Detectives: Thomas Murphy, and Det. Simard. I got the front desk and asked if Det. Murphy was on duty--he was the one who sent the fax. The officer on the line said he wasn't, but I could leave a voice message if I wanted. So I did, my half-trembling voice telling the Detective's voice mail that they had the wrong guy.

I called back my parents and they assured me (for what else could they do?) that this was obviously a mistake and that since Det. Murphy wasn't there there was nothing else to be done but get some sleep and contact them first thing in the morning. Sean, ever the level-headed thinker, said he would contact his brother (who is a cop) in the morning and get his advice. My father also suggested I try to Google "Dr. Craig Klein" and see if I could find anything that would show why he and I were getting mixed-up.

Honestly, if it wasn't for Sean and my parents, I probably would've collapsed into a fetal position. I'd like to say that my inital reaction was one of stout resolution and action, but it wasn't. What can I say, I've never been good at improvision.

Trying to sleep was comical. I laid in bed envisioning the drive to Salem, Massachusettes, where the Superior Cout is seated, to prove my innocence. Worse, I envisioned not being able to prove my innocence. My mind strayed to remembering fragments of Harlan Ellison's semi-autobiographical novel Memos from Purgatory in which he related the story of how he was arrested and spent a day stuck in the New York City criminal justice system, including a nightmarish stint in the infamous Tombs. Only as my thoughts whirlled it wasn't Harlan trampped in the Tombs, but me. It took a forced recitation of Valerie's Letter to calm me enough to fall asleep.

I was in much better shape when the alarm woke me up at 6:45. I sprang out of bed and headed into the shower, as I always do on a weekday. But all the helplessness and incoherency I experienced before was replaced by a much stronger resolve. After all, I was innocent. All I had to do was prove I wasn't the Craig Klein they were looking for. Even if it meant driving into Massachusettes to do it.

I woke Sean up and asked him to call his brother. While he did that I remembered my father's advice about using Google. My first search didn't discover anything; when I typed "Dr. Craig Klein" into Google, nothing useful appeared. But on a hunch, I re-typed the name inside quotation marks and hit paydirt. The second link on the page led to an article that explained everything.

An article by the Eagle Tribune detailed an insurance scandal that had been going on in Massachusettes. To make a long story short (too late), loopholes in Massachusettes insurance law made it possible for people to file exorberant medical claims with insurance companies and recieve little scrutiny when doing it. This resulted in millions of dollars in fradulent insurance claims. When the state began cracking down on the fradulent claims, one of the people involved was a Dr. Craig Klein. So was Dr. Sean Nisivoccia and Dr. Charles Nisivoccia two of the names mentioned in the summons I was given. Apparently the three are NJ chiropractors, with an office in Clifton NJ, who set up shop in Massachusettes. Dr. Klein and Dr. Charles Nisivoccia were fined $25,000 dollars in New Jersey in May of this year.

Naturally, having found this article, my spirits were in much better shape. It wasn't identity theft, just mistaken identity. I still was worried that I'd have to drive up to Salem to prove this to the police, but at least I knew I could prove it and that the summons was delivered to me by mistake.

I called my folks to let them know the details, and I let Sean know as well. My parents gave me the number of a family friend who works in a law office. Even with the article, I certainly wanted to speak with a lawyer to see what my legal options were. Nancy, my parent's friend, has known me all my life so she was amazed to hear what had happened and more than happy to help. Since it was still early in the morning, I had a solid hour and a half before the Detectives in Lawernce would arrive at their desks. I spent the time scanning the summons in my computer to send it to Nancy and my father (who was checking with the lawyers in his office. I also called my office and told them I might be out for the next two days.

Between calling my parents, Nancy, my job, and the Lawernce Police Department, I must've used up all my alotted monthly minutes on my cell phone. Every time a scrap of information was avilable, I would relate it to everyone. Also, by sheer conicidence, I learned the husband of my co-worker, Laura, was on duty at the Bloomfield station when the summons came to them. In fact, he's the one who assigned the officers to deliver it to me! Laura said he knew the name was familiar but couldn't place it (we had only met two or three times in the two years I've been working), but now that he realized it was me, he said he'd try to contact the Lawerence police on my behalf.

However, contacting the Detectives on the case wasn't easy. Det. Murphy, apparently, was not at the Lawerence Police Department that day, so I was transfered to another station to get in touch with him. After two calls to that number, I learned from the desk jockey that the Detective was out of that office for the day as well. I explained to him the situation and asked who I could speak to on the matter. Rather coldly, the man said there was nobody that could help me and that I'd have to appear at the station to sort it out.

Needless to say, my buoyed spirits began to sink. Worse, after speaking with Laura to try and get in otuch with her husband, she related to me that the summons was "very serious" and she thinks if I did arrive in person, the police would arrest me first and ask questions later. Now the summons specificed that it was not and arrest warrant, but it did instruct that, upon arriving at the court, I would have to go to the Lawrence police station for booking. I began to worry that the only way to clear up the situation was for me to spend time in jail.

Trying not to panic, but definitely worried, I continued with my phone calls. Since contacting Murphy was a bust (not upn intended), I called the Lawrence Police again and asked to speak with Det. Simard. Fortunately, he was at his desk. I explained to him the situation.

"You haven't been to Massachusettes?" he asked.

"Not in five--six--years," I told him.

"You don't know Sean Nisivoccia or Charles Nisivoccia?" he asked. It was deja vu all over again.

"Nope." I said.

"And you're not a doctor?"

"I work for a fiber optic cable company," I said, unable to surpress a chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

I can't say why answering those questions was enough to convince Det. Simard that I wasn't the Craig Klein they were looking for. Really, a faceless voice on the other end of a phone is hardly incontrovertable proof of identity. But perhaps it was the tone of my voice, or perhaps Simard's experience allowed him to realize I was telling the truth. Perhaps he was just a nice guy (Perhaps all three). But it was enough for Det. Simard and asfter I answered his questions he said all he would need to clear things up would be a copy of my driver's license and a recent W-2 statement to confirm my occupation.

At this point it was just after 10:00 in the morning. Between making more phone calls and preparing the documentation (naturally, I had trouble finding last year's tax returns), I wouldn't leave the house for about another forty minutes. Once everything was ready I drove down to the local UPS store, made some copies, and faxed them to Det. Simard.

Except the fax wouldn't go through. More precisely, the fax line at Simard's office doubles as a phone line. Not realizing that, the attendant at the UPS store kept hanging up whenever a voice came through the line. I called Simard and he clarified what to do; after that, the fax went through properly.

When I called Nancy to explain everything seemed resolved (I still hadn't spoken with a lawyer; all the lawyers in her office that could have helped me were out that morning. Figures.) she told me that until I hear for certain that everything's resolved, I should try calling every number I have at my disposal. She pointed out that the summons listed the number of the probation office and it'd be a good idea to call it. I dialed the number and was told they only handle probations so I'd have to speak with the summons office. The summons office asked who the DA listed on the summons was, but the summons I had gave no name. With a little more information, the summons office figured it out and transfered me to Assistant District Attorney Alex Cain.

When I got ADA Cain on the phone and began explaing the situation, I was surprised when he cut me off and said he knew all about it. Apparently in the time it took for me to leave the UPS store and get transfered to his office, Det Simard had recieved the fax, contacted Cain, and sent him the information.

"I'm looking at your driver's license and a picture of Dr. Klein and you're clearly not the same person," Cain told me.

I have to say, it was a pain in the ass getting in touch with these people, but once I did, I doubt I could have asked for better treatment. Both Simard and Cain were extremely polite and apologetic about the situation. Cain assured me the matter would be corrected and that I no longer had anything to worry about. To be on the safe side, I asked him if he could fax me a letter to that effect. He was happy to do so, asking that, in return, I send one more fax of my ID. I said he'd have it in an hour.

And thus ended my surreal experience of being summoned before the Superior Court of Massachusettes for insurance fraud. From being woken by the cops to hanging up the phone with ADA Cain, ten hours passed. Considering four of it was spent alseep and two more were wasted waiting for offices to open, things tied up rather neatly.

Well, almost. I did get the fax from Cain (since everything was taken care of so quickly, I wound up going to work for the second half of the day.) and I have several copies (one sent to my parents, one for my car, and one that is laminated and will eventually be framed and hung in the bedroom of my new apartment) of Cain's letter, as well as a voice mail from Det. Simard in which he apologizes, on behalf of the Lawrence Police, for the mix-up. So at first everything seemed fine and all I got was this wild (and long) anecdote.

However, on Friday, as I continued typing this sprawling blog entry, I re-Googled "Dr. Craig Klein" to make sure I had the proper URLs for linking. And to my surprise I discovered a new link on the Eagle Tribune website. It was posted on Thursday the 23rd but i know for certain it wasn't indexed by Google when I did my original search. This article lists the names of every person indicted in connection with this scandal. And it lists "Dr. Craig Klein, 29, Bloomfield, N.J., charged with two counts of conspiracy to commit insurance fraud and two counts of insurance fraud."

Now, it may very well be that Dr. Klein is 29 and lives in Bloomfield. But I seriously doubt it. All the other Doctors are in their mid-thirties or older. It could explain how they sent the summons to me and not him, but even if there are good odds that two people with the same name and the same age could live in the same town, that seems too coincidental, even under these circumstances. Regardless, it's obvious the newspaper obtained a copy of the summons as it was delivered to me and was never notified about the correction. And though it is amusing, I'm not too crazy about the fact that my name, age, and town of residence is posted by a daily newspaper. So I've e-mailed them and asked them to check their records and confirm the true age and residence of Dr. Klein. That was Friday so I'm giving them untill Tuesday to respond. In the meantime, I'm going to get in touch with Nancy and speak to a lawyer. Just on the safe side.

Of course, now that I'm writing this beauty of a post, who knows who'll read this. I really have no desire to bring legal action (if I even have that option) against either the Bloomfield Police, the Lawrence Police, or the Massachusettes District Attorney's office, so I'm not writing this out of a desire for vengence or serious compensation. As long as I don't recieve any further hassle over this, I'm content to let this slip into the recesses of memory.

Besides, I look at it this way: A) this bit with the Eagle Tribune notwithstanding, it all worked out in the end. B) it got my mind off everytyhing that had been bugging me the day before and that's a very good thing. C) I got one hell of a story to tell. So I think it's fair enough that I get to tell it.