Michael “MafiaBoy” Calce is Canada's most notorious White Hat hacker, In February , at the age of 15, MafiaBoy launched a series of. Start by marking “Mafiaboy: How I Cracked The Internet And Why Its Still Broken” as Want to Read: If I could choose any actor in the world in the world to play Michael calce (Mafia Boy) I would choose Tom Cruise because he can play as anybody especially a top grade hacker like. Hiding behind the pseudonym MafiaBoy, this fifteen-year-old suc- cessfully . This book has a simple aim: to get you to think networks. It is.
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Michael Calce is a security expert from Île Bizard, Quebec who launched a series of highly . In late , with journalist Craig Silverman, Calce announced he was writing a book, Mafiaboy: How I Cracked the Internet and Why It's Still Broken . Perspectives in Information Security Education" (PDF), Issues in Information. Mafiaboy: A Portrait of the Hacker as a Young Man [Michael Calce, Craig Hacker as a Young Man and millions of other books are available for site site. Mafiaboy: How I Cracked the Internet and Why It's Still Broken uploaded by our users and we assume good faith they have the permission to share this book.
It was by now early Saturday morning and I had expected to be released that day.
Mafiaboy: How I Cracked the Internet and Why It's Still Broken
But this was another element of the cops' plan: to arrest me on the weekend so I wouldn't be able to get a bail hearing until Monday morning. They wanted me to sit in jail over the weekend, to make things as tough on me as possible. Once I realized that, it made me more resolved not to give an inch. From the beginning, I had no desire to cooperate with the police, but now any possibility of that happening-no matter how minute-had disappeared.
Yan let the officers know we were done, and they came back into the room and sat down again. Yan asked who was in charge, and Corporal Gosselin identified himself as the head investigator on my case. He was confident. Yan shot him a dismissive look and said, "My client has nothing to discuss. You can go ahead and book him. We will see you Monday morning. He carries himself well, and he's not easily intimidated. The words he spoke to Corporal Gosselin were polite, but as far as I was concerned at the time, he was telling all the officers to go fuck themselves.
Their tactics hadn't worked. That was the best I had felt since receiving the call at Patrick's house hours earlier.
I could tell the officers were pissed about the fast appearance of my lawyer and that they weren't going to have more time to talk to me alone. Good, I thought.
The Saturday morning sun was rising, reminding me that I had been up all night. We pulled in to Cite Des Prairies, a youth detention centre.
It would be my home for the weekend. The ride, and what came before it, had left me in a state of exhaustion. Everything was blurry: the building, the time of day, who I was with.
Once in the building, I was quickly searched, processed, and led to an empty cell. As soon as I hit the bed, I was out. I didn't bother with a blanket or pillow. Except for briefly opening my eyes when a guard passed by on his rounds, I didn't wake up until the other boys were already out of their cells and milling around in the common area.
Because of my early-morning arrival, the guards had let me sleep in. I rose from the bed and looked out at the scene in front of me. So this is jail. In less than twelve hours, I had gone from a typical Friday night sleepover at a friend's house to waking up in a facility for young offenders.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes as reality set in. I was let out to join the others and soon spotted a familiar face. His name was Quincy and he was a bit of a badass at that and 25 As Seen on CNN 23 confident the judge wouldn't remand a juvenile with no prior record.
Corporal Gosselin informed Yan I would be spending the weekend at a juvenile prison called Cite Des Prairies and that he and my family could visit me there. With that, it was back into another unmarked van for the drive to jail. The encounter at the RCMP headquarters had energized me, but exhaustion took over on the ride to jail. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I didn't care what kind of place I was headed to; as long as there was a bed, it was fine with me. O school. It wasn't a shock to see him there.
He was also a big guy, the kind you'd want to have on your side in jail. I felt more sure of myself when I saw him and he greeted me.
He was surprised to find me there. Quincy showed me the ropes, which weren't too difficult to grasp considering that weekends at Cite Des Prairies consisted mostly of sitting around and playing cards or board games. When he asked me why I was there, I told him it was for breaking and entering. I didn't want to bother trying to explain my crimes. I passed the weekend playing cards with him and others. I felt protected. I could handle this. During my time there, I thought constantly about my arrest, the raid at my house, and my dad, who I believed was also spending the weekend in jail.
I kept it all inside, not wanting to draw attention to myself. My father's arrest gnawed at me all weekend. I hated that he was also in jail; I knew it was because of me. Yet I had no idea why the police had arrested him, or how they came to do so. I would later discover that, unbeknownst to us, the police had installed a wiretap at our house to listen in on conversations and track online activity. They recorded my father raging over a business deal that had gone bad.
A guy had screwed him over and my father said nasty things while on the phone with a friend. The police in turn used that to arrest him on the night of the raid for conspiracy to commit aggravated assault. When he went in front of a judge, my father agreed to stay away from the man, and that was that. They had nothing because my father had no intention of harming anyone. He was pissed off about business and let off some steam over the phone. For that, the police had arrested him.
Their pressure tactics made him only more resolved to see me stand up for myself. Still, I couldn't wait to go before the judge on Monday. I wanted out of Cite Des Prairies. A guard sat at a desk near the entrance. Tables and chairs were set up, and a buffet of reheated food stood congealing at one end.
I could hear noise coming from a smaller room off to the side. I waited my turn, then proceeded to run the table with them, knocking everybody out one after another.
Playing video games was a normal activity for me; I felt one step closer to getting back to life as I knew it. I was soon called to the main desk, but I wasn't sure if it was for my bail hearing or another surprise cooked up by the police.
A guard led me into a small meeting room down the hail. I was relieved to find my father and Yan sitting on the other side of the glass divide. My stepmother had visited over the weekend and told me that my father had been released from jail, which was a huge relief for me.
Now it was my turn to be released. Yan and my dad began by asking if I was okay. Had anything happened in jail? Had anyone touched or bothered me? I told them I was okay and that nothing untoward had happened. My father told me that my grandfather had offered to bring in his lawyer to take on my case. I could choose to keep Yan as my counsel or opt to go with the new lawyer. Yan had already shown his commitment by getting up in the middle of the night and rushing 28 Mafiaboy 1.
He seemed in total control every second we were together. I had complete confidence in him. Yan told me I would have my bail hearing soon.
He said I would be released that day, albeit with certain conditions. I couldn't wait for my hearing. I wanted to go home. After the meeting, I was escorted back into the holding area. It wasn't long before my name was called again.
This time I walked into another meeting room and found my mother and stepfather. A man I didn't know was sitting with them. It was the first time my mother had seen me since my arrest. Again, they all wanted to know what had happened to me in jail. The man with them turned out to be a lawyer. My mother and stepfather said they would pay for my defence and handle everything if I chose to use their lawyer. It was reassuring to know that my entire family was looking out for me.
I was already committed to Yan, but even if I'd had doubts about him, I wouldn't have chosen my mother and stepfather's lawyer. I liked the way Yan presented and handled himself. Something about this lawyer was off-putting. He hadn't said much, but it was enough for me to know that Yan would be my lawyer. End of discussion. I soon headed back to the holding area and waited for my bail hearing, half wondering if another relative would show up with yet another lawyer.
Finally, my name was called. Two guards took me on the elevator down to the courtroom, which we entered through the back door. The seats in the courtroom were packed. I began to worry that everyone was there to see me. As far as I knew, the police hadn't made any public announcement, but it seemed to me that too many people were there to watch the proceedings, including men in overcoats who looked like they were with the Weekend at Cit Des Prairies 29 government or law enforcement.
Were the other people with the press? This wasn't good. I looked around suspiciously, wondering what it all meant. I was being paranoid. There was no press; the people there weren't any more interested in my case than anyone else's that day. But that would soon change. After a short wait, my case was called. I was charged with two counts of criminal mischief for an online attack against CNN.
Considering I had attacked several websites, it was a relief to be charged with only two counts.
I had expected more. I stood next to Yan as he entered a plea of not guilty. The judge accepted the plea and set out a series of bail conditions. I was not allowed to use the internet or any computers, except under adult supervision. I had to stay away from places like libraries, which had free access to computers, and I wasn't to use a cellphone with internet access. I also wasn't allowed to see three of my best friends, and a curfew was imposed on me.
I understood why some of the conditions were necessary, but my school friends had nothing to do with the attacks. As for the curfew, I was usually at home all night anyway. In fact, that was where I'd launched the attacks from. I thought things seemed somewhat blown out of proportion. First with the media reports about the attacks, and then with the way the RCMP had arrested my father and me. Now I was forbidden from seeing certain friends.
What did they have to do with the case? It seemed like an extra bit of punishment tacked on for good measure. That pissed me off. Even though I knew I was guilty I was beginning to feel hard done by I see now that the authorities were cautious and uncertain; they'd never dealt with a case like mine before.
One technology 30 Mafiaboy 1. A fifteen-year-old kid using a home computer had apparently caused close to a couple of billion dollars' worth of damage. Everybody was freaking out. They didn't know how to deal with the larger issues of online security.
The next best thing was to make an example of me in order to put the public at ease. It seemed to be less about me and more about what I represented: the potential for the growing online world to be destroyed, or at least crippled, by nefarious hackers. I needed to be held up as an example of what happens to people who mess with the internet and e-commerce. Anxious to get home, I agreed to the conditions and was led back to the holding area, where I signed a document setting out my bail conditions.
Then, Just like in the movies, I was handed a brown envelope filled with my possessions and released. I thanked my mother for coming to see me, then headed out with Yan and my father for a strategy session. We went to Elio Pizzeria so I could eat some good food while we planned for the coming onslaught.
I hadn't eaten much while in custody, and despite the nature of our conversation, that meal remains one of the best meals of my life. Yan had requested that all evidence the police had relating to my case be handed over to us. We would soon see exactly what they had on me. For now, though, I just wanted some pizza and my own bed. These larger issues could wait until the case moved forward, which I thought would take weeks or even months.
I was wrong. Attorney General had other plans for me. At the same time as my father,Yan, and I were conferring in Montreal, law enforcement agencies were planning their next move. In Washington, D. The RCMP were also prepping for their press conference.
Weekend at Cit Des Prairies 31 Because I had been arrested in Canada, they would have the pleasure of being the first to announce the news that Mafiaboy had been caught. Attorney General, and FBI would take their time to prepare their announcements and reveal my arrest two days later, on Wednesday, April Then all hell would break loose.
I enjoyed my pizza, then went home to sleep in my own bed. At that point, I had been charged with only two counts of criminal mischief. That was enough to get me offline. But the authorities' main case was yet to come. The cops preened for their big moment.
The elusive, dangerous hacker had been caught. And now they could reveal their trophy-a fifteen-year-old kid. As the officers delivered the news to the assembled press, I was in class, unaware that my arrest was being announced to the world. InspectorYves Roussel told reporters that when it came to my crimes, "we're talking about a thousand sites across the world. I had been charged with two counts related to an attack on CNN. He was likely referring to the fact that, at the time, CNN.
Although I was certainly guilty of more than just the attack on CNN, the inspector had inflated the number. Theirs is a world contained only by the breadth of the internet.
Early on 33 34 Mafiaboy 1. After the RCMP released more details, the newswires and networks continued to treat my arrest as a major story.
Then, a few minutes past noon, US.
I believe this recent breakthrough demonstrates our capacity to track down those who would abuse this remarkable new technology, and track them down wherever they may be.
No one knew that I had been arrested early Saturday morning or that I was in court on Monday. Except for the one friend I had told, no one at school knew I was Mafiaboy.
Tuesday passed like any other school day. Wednesday, however, would be unlike any other day in my life. After the RCMP press conference finished, reporters piled into their vehicles and sped to my high school. Although Canadian law forbade the police from releasing my name because I was a young offender, they did say that I was a student at Riverdale High School.
So every major media outlet with staff in Montreal rushed to the school. To your close friends? I would definitely recommend this nail biting book to anybody who Daniel St-Pierre English 1. I would definitely recommend this nail biting book to anybody who likes books that holds your nose in the book.
You ask, because this book has a deep storyline that keeps you reading to the end. How would the book have been different if it had taken place in a different time or place? Did the book end the way you expected? He book did end the way I expected because at the end they say he started to work for the C. A and is a really good info gatherer 6.
Did the actions of the character seem plausible Why? Why not? Everything that happened in this book is entirely true because it actually happened. Were there any personality traits that you could identify with? Hence, by definition, he would be both a hacktivist and a cyberterrorist. Moreover, Mafiaboy was also recuperated as an anti-corporate crusader by a leading Canadian journalist aligned with the anti-globalization movement.
Taylor also focuses on the potential of hacktivism to concentrate on an anti-corporate political agenda. It is at once both a long way and no distance at all from the figuration of Mafiaboy as cyber-terrorist and public servant.
These labels are truly labile. Neither is appropriate, as I will show. There are general and specific issues at stake here: specifically, monetary estimates about the extent of the damage to potential sales caused by disabling the Web sites of major multinationals, and more generally, the social effects of the acquisition of computer skills.
Are hacking skills taught in high school computer classes? Further, if we can understand what kind of hacker Mafiaboy was, it will then be possible to better situate his defense of experimentation toward security employment.
The most celebrated may be apprehended, arrested, charged and convicted, but this very process has become more and more readily translatable into employment in the corporate IT security sector, or at least in terms of expert reportage on it. This neither means that a rapprochement between hackers and computer security analysts is taking place nor that the old hard and fast divisions and non-negotiable animosities are being buried.
Rather, I prefer another explanation. Mafiaboy may have also discovered the incommensurability of his imagined future as a hacker legend and corporate security employee, and his everyday reality as a computer loving teen whose curiosity passed over into mischief with data, and beyond.
The choice of unreality over reality is common to group fantasies among youth subcultures. The early studies of Birmingham school cultural studies relating to youth subcultures, especially those of John Clarke et al. But this was not lost on the Judge. But in this space he would not find an enduring solution to his predicament, especially through the symbolic mantle of untouchable Master hacker. His attempts at a more concrete solution through the demonstration of his skill certainly played in the media for a duration, but did not play out as a viable answer to the problem of career choice and entry into a profession.
Everything in-between was still there. The Judge responded like a seasoned decoder of youth subcultures. He argued, in fact, that his strategy was not to dwell on intent, for there was too much evidence to deny that, but, rather, on motivation.
My two key questions or clusters of questions are posed within the reasoned framework for a return to the case, that is, the issue of the rhetorical limits of hacktivism, a defense that is stretched to the limits of intelligibility. In positive terms this meant for hackers that his handle or alias remained front and centre. In hacker culture the handle is privileged and the real name can be dismissed Thomas, The hacker disappears once a connection between them is made.
Mafiaboy retained his handle yet also disappeared; indeed, whether he was a legitimate author in the first place is open to question, at least by his peers. For one of the signs that the hacker underground is dead is, according to Thomas , that it is no longer really underground but accessible to anybody who can download access to it. A further sign is that the trappings of hacktivism can be used as a defense of actions that only offer a post facto justification. Both criticized Mafiaboy on technical grounds.
To date, this proposal did not receive funding. All the while the security experts and investigators who came forward with information correct or otherwise were all from the US. The combination of Palo Alto expertise Michael Lyle and French Canadian locations proved to be a point of some contention when members of hacker quarterly set out to show that they had spoofed Lyle. Sure enough, within seconds, we were being messaged by people who believed we were the person responsible.
Amazingly, the person who fell for it the hardest is the very person now being quoted widely in the media as having caught the perpetrator. The strategy is to force the disclosure of evidence by any means necessary, calling into question the claims of private computer security investigators.
That anybody using the handle Mafiaboy was suspect is shown in my reference to a young boy, Mafiaboy2, mistakenly contacted about the case in mid-February and forced to issue a denial. To be frank, Mafiaboy would not and could not get any respect. What can be learned from the qualities attributed to Mafiaboy? The overall effect is incoherence and incommensurability of terms. Two emphases are evident: downplaying the technical skill required to carry out the attacks, which occasionally permits a boilerplate description of the criminal whiz kid to slip past.
Recourse to stereotypes of the cultural moment is not uncommon in the press. However, a further effect of the repeated use of the Mafiaboy handle was a barrage of soft demographic observations: the smart affluent bored white teen Anglo bad boy from the suburbs. It is simply not possible for a script kiddie to be counted as a white hat because of the derivative nature of the hacks in question the title is unearned; Thomas, Perhaps one can only say that Mafiaboy lived the label of white hat imaginatively and communicated this dream to his attorney.He hadn't said much, but it was enough for me to know that Yan would be my lawyer.
I wanted to understand the construction of Mafiaboy as a hacker and cyber-criminal. Certain impressive numbers were produced by third parties like the Boston Yankee Group but they lacked foundation. Suddenly, reporters and cameras were at my school. One sat next to me, one sat directly in front of me, and two more were in the driver and passenger seats.
But as I looked into the eyes of the man I would later come to know as Corporal Marc Gosselin of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, one emotion was clear: satisfaction. Everybody was freaking out.
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