He's No Mitnick By Kevin Poulsen August 21, 1998 Justin Petersen, the infamous hacker snitch, is back in prison-- but apparently without having committed a crime. Hacker Kevin Mitnick wasn't the only cyberpunk to celebrate a birthday from jail recently. Justin Petersen-- the paid informant who once helped the FBI nail Mitnick on a probation violation-- was hit with a violation of his own on July 27, the day before he turned 38 years old. Petersen's incarceration came as no surprise. A career criminal for decades, he's used everything from bank fraud to grand theft auto to maintain a Sunset Strip lifestyle of fast cars and faster women (over one thousand of the latter, he claims). When he was arrested for credit card fraud in 1991, Petersen escaped the consequences by informing on former friends and associates (myself included) and setting up Mitnick, before returning to a life of crime. Upon recapture, he was sentenced to 41 months in a minimum-security prison, followed by three years of probation. He is now back in custody, accused of violating that probation. Court records are silent as to the particulars of his alleged transgressions, and the probation office, US Attorney, and Petersen's lawyer are all mum pending his hearing. But after an exhaustive investigation, CHAOS Theory has uncovered a startling fact: Petersen is not accused of committing any further crimes. In fact, by all accounts, Justin Tanner Petersen appears to have-- dare I say it?-- gone straight. His probation violation may be an artifact of a dramatic lifestyle change that came with walking the straight and narrow. Going Legit In recent media reports, Petersen's gift for self-promotion shines. Petersen portrays himself as a high-demand consultant with a 1,000-square-foot computer center and a long list of technical skills that's won him work with some of the world's largest corporations. His most recent gig, the story goes, was developing networks for Cosmic Media, an Internet consulting firm in Los Angeles. It seems life as a law-abiding citizen has been good to Justin Petersen. "He never actually did any work, really," says Cosmic Media partner David Burton. "Last year, he was trying to sell some people on doing a website, and we kind of let him work under the guise of Cosmic. He had two or three potential deals, but they never panned out." Hey, I didn't say he'd become honest, just law-abiding. "I was a friend of Justin's back in the day," says Bryson Jones. Jones, who also works at Cosmic, knew Peterson in the early '90s as a successful criminal and a major player in the Hollywood longhair scene. When Petersen was released in April 1997, he contacted his old friend. "He got ahold of me and said, 'I want to go legit,'" Jones recalls. Jones put Petersen up for a week and arranged the brief faux employment that remains the centerpiece of Petersen's press kit. "We pulled him in for a while, but nothing ever came of it. David removed his account from the server at the end of last year." Unlike two of the people he informed on, Petersen is not restricted in his use of computers or the Internet. So after the Cosmic Media setback, he created a computer center for rent, complete with removable floor panels. But there was one thing missing. "It's a computer center, but there's no equipment installed right now," says Jones. "He's had trouble getting people to set up there." "I don't know what his source of income is, but I know he's been living pretty lean," Jones told me. "Lately he's felt the pinch pretty heavy. He's showing all the outward signs of going legit." "He's missed so many opportunities to get work; he's looking for something high-profile," Jones concluded. What Bad Faith Will Get You Statements posted on the Internet and attributed to Petersen claim that the cyberpunk is being held for not making restitution payments totaling $1,600 per month. Given his financial situation, that seems pretty unreasonable. But don't put that "Free Justin" bumper sticker on your car just yet. While it's true that Petersen owes the Crime Victim Relief Fund a substantial amount of money, the US Probation Office does not normally recommend violation proceedings for offenders who genuinely can't afford to pay their debt. What they do insist on is a good-faith effort to obtain employment and then to make a monthly payment of approximately 75 percent of the offender's income above necessary expenses like food, rent, and clothing. On Monday, August 24, the probation office will argue in court that Petersen refused to make that effort. (Watch this space for an update.) They will also accuse him of technical violations that remain undisclosed. But he will not be charged with committing new crimes or making misstatements to his probation officer. For years, Petersen lived a life of expensive tastes, and whenever he was short of cash, he simply committed another crime. When he got caught, he sold out friends and confederates. He surrounded himself with people who admired these ignoble qualities. Now, an aging Lothario fallen on hard times and perhaps struggling to hold onto some semblance of his flamboyant lifestyle, he might well find the responsibilities of his probation onerous. His efforts to win respect by lying to the media seem less outrageous than sad. The temptation to return to a life of crime must be great. If he has indeed resisted it, then he's actually done something worth a bit of respect.