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Lindsly's
libel suit against WW was dismissed in November.
The
longest sentence ever given to a hacker is being served
by Kevin Mitnick, who is scheduled to be released at the
end of January after serving nearly 59 months in prison.
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One of the nation's most accomplished hackers played a big
role in these pages--and in Nike's computer room--but neither
WW nor the sneaker giant knew who it was dealing with.
Corey Lindsly, until last fall a high-tech entrepreneur,
is now serving a 41-month sentence in the federal penitentiary
in Sheridan. But for several years, Lindsly toiled in anonymity
in Portland, his criminal past a secret both to WW
and, presumably, Nike.
In a 1998 cover story about on-line pedophiles, WW
reported on the role of Portland Internet service provider
Phix-Net Communications Inc., which hosted hundreds of Web
pages, including one that contained one of the world's largest
electronic boy-lover message boards ("Where
the Boys Are," WW, Oct. 7, 1998). Lindsly, Phix-Net's
president, sued WW for libel.
It turns out Lindsly, who at that time was working for
Nike, already had considerable experience with the judicial
system--and even more with other people's computer systems.
Late last November, Lindsly, 32, turned himself over to
the U.S. Marshal in Portland after being convicted in a
Texas federal court of leading a hacker ring that defrauded
Sprint Corp. of nearly $2 million in the mid-90's. His 41-month
sentence, according to prosecutors, is the second-longest
ever meted out for hacking.
Federal officials say Lindsly led the biggest, most sophisticated
group of hackers they've ever busted. In all, according
to court documents, at least 11 men took part in the nationwide
ring, invading the computer systems of Sprint, GTE, Southwestern
Bell, AT&T and US West, along with the databases of
the FBI and national credit reporting agencies, among others.
Although FBI agents raided the homes of Lindsly and other
suspected hackers in 1995 (none lived in Oregon at the time),
the case was so complex that indictments against the group
weren't unsealed until early last year. While there was
no way that WW or Nike could have known of Lindsly's
indictment in Texas, relevant information about his earlier
activities in Portland was only a few keystrokes away.
A quick search of a state court record database shows that
in 1989, Lindsly, then only 22, pleaded guilty in Multnomah
County to felony charges relating to using a computer to
access US West's system illegally. His conviction, which
resulted in five years' probation, marked one of the earliest
Northwest hacking busts.
After completing his probation, Lindsly moved to Philadelphia,
enrolling at the University of Pennsylvania in the fall
of 1994.
Court records show that he was busy with more than schoolwork.
Much of the hackers' activity leading to the Texas indictment
took place that fall and in early 1995.
Transcripts of taped phone calls between Lindsly and his
buddies cast him in a leadership role, exhorting his colleagues
and instructing them in the art of hacking. "He was the
most clever of them all," says Matthew Yarbrough, the Dallas-based
assistant U.S. Attorney who won Lindsly's conviction.
The hackers' game consisted of tapping into the computer
systems of Sprint and other phone companies and pilfering
calling-card access codes, which could be sold or used to
make long distance calls for free.
Lindsly and his pals, according to court documents, also
sold or altered credit records, placed calls to celebrities
such as former Partridge Family bassist Danny Bonaduce and
even retrieved confidential White House phone numbers. In
one conversation, Lindsly and his buddies discussed giving
White House officials "the pager treatment," which would
cause one number to appear on all the pagers at the same
time; Lindsly himself spoke of "prankin' the White House."
Having gotten nailed previously, Lindsly seemed to know
it was only a matter of time before he was caught again.
"We're all gonna get busted anyway," he told his friends
in a call taped in January 1995. "Just remember," he said,
"nobody fucking rats anybody out. No deals."
Less than a month after that conversation, the FBI moved
against the group, raiding several locations around the
country, including Lindsly's Philadelphia dorm room.
He left Penn and moved back to Portland.
Lindsly launched Phix-Net in January 1997. A few months
later, according to court records, Lindsly landed a job
with Nike--ironically, consulting on the company's computer
system. Nike officials decline to comment about whether
they knew of Lindsly's background or what level of access
he had to the company's secrets. One Nike employee familiar
with Lindsly's duties, however, says the high priest of
hacking enjoyed complete access to the company's internal
computer network. "He was a systems administrator," the
employee says. "That means he had the keys to the castle."
There is no evidence Lindsly did anything improper in Swooshdom,
but the employment of a suspected hacker highlights the
vulnerability of the wired world. (Lindsly was placed at
Nike by Excell Data, a Bellevue, Wash., high-tech consulting
firm that has a Portland office. Excell officials declined
to comment for this story.)
Yarbrough says there's a simple reason hackers sometimes
find jobs in sensitive positions: "People give them access
without doing any background checks."
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Willamette Week | originally
published January 12,
1999
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