Kevin Poulsen narrates the fantastic tale of a talented, successful manufacturer of fake IDs who – as his customers and competitors eventually discovered – happened to work for the Secret Service:
Buying the cards from “Celtic” was simple. You’d give him the name you want on the card, the state, date of birth, height, and weight, and a headshot. Celtic would then whip up a digital proof of what the card would look like – sometimes watermarked with a big CELTIC across the front, more often not. If you were satisfied with the proof, then, and only then, would you send your payment by Western Union. Then Celtic would manufacture the physical card in his plant (whether it was at the Secret Service field office, or at an undercover offsite is unclear), pop it in the mail, and send you the tracking number. For U.S. customers, it was three days from order to delivery. …
From the Secret Service’s standpoint, selling fake IDs – “novelties,” in the parlance of the underground – would have held a number of advantages. Unlike intangible commodities like credit card numbers or passwords, fake IDs must be shipped physically, which gives the agency an address to check out for every customer. And, being photo IDs, the customer had to provide their photos. It’s a rare law enforcement operation that lets the cops collect mug shots before they’ve made a single arrest.
The Dish 