When I left Van Man I took some more time to check my phone to see if I could get more word about what was going on at home. I received a disturbing message from my son. He told me someone had created a Twitter account that was impersonating me.
The fake account used my photo and included a description that said I was my son’s father. What made the account worse was how it was used. Under the guise of me, the user was replying to various posts by others. The vendetta against my son was being played out by using my persona.
The tweets were bold lies built on a thin premise. They purported the idea that I supported the racists and opposed my son’s efforts to expose them. It was an amateurish impersonation, lacking any attempt at subtlety or polish, but it was still a lie. It was a theft of my identity.
Grateful to be where a wireless signal was strong, I quickly researched how to request a takedown of the fake Twitter account. I learned that I needed to prove my identity, so I took a photo of my driver’s license and submitted it with my request.
This was all I could do. I didn’t know if anyone at Twitter would respond, let alone remove the fake account.
Under this additional cloud of worry, I did the only thing I could do at the moment. I walked on.
