When I walked into that station, I swore that there must have been a bank robbery or a murder. The cops were running around like roaches. A couple of them were on the phone, tracing leads. A few more were running back and forth from computer to computer as if someone's life were hanging in the balance, the difference between their next birthday and their burial depending upon the work ethics of that office.

One officer with a "what now" look on his face approached me and gave me an annoyed, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm the guy who started the prank that's grown out of control."

Two cops immediately burst out laughing and ran to the back room, hoping I didn't see their reactions. The two at the computers stopped their running and typing. The two on the phones looked up, halting their conversations, and then resumed in much calmer voices. The one who "greeted" me sighed.

"You got any ID?"

I said I did and pulled out my license. He looked it over, gave me a scowl, and said, "Follow me."

He took me to a room in the back of the police station and told me to sit down. He then pulled out a clipboard and a pen and called another plain-clothed officer into the room, closing the door behind them.

"So," he began in a stern, fatherly voice, "Do you do this sort of thing often?"

"No," I said with a pleasant smile. "This isn't a regular thing with me. I just wanted to pull a small prank, and it just grew much bigger than I expected. This wasn't my intention at all."

He glared at me and began writing on the clipboard. He commanded me to tell him what happened from the beginning, so I told him what you're reading here. Though I softened it up quite a bit so I didn't look like as much of an asshole. It was midway through the story that I realized I had just told him about "John Cheese" and the whole website thing. I mean, I kind of had to in order to show him how the calls grew to their current numbers.

Throughout my story, he continually interrupted me with smartass comments and dickhead attitude. Right after each of these comments, the other officer would reply with something kind and reassuring. After about three of these exchanges it suddenly donned on me that these guys were actually doing the "good cop / bad cop" thing. That's not a joke. They were really doing it.

At one point, the bad cop got up and exited the room, leaving me with the good cop, who attempted to fish more information out of me. I told him, "Look, I'm not hiding anything from you guys at all. I'm telling you with 100% honesty what happened. I realized the prank got too big, and I came over to clear the air. If I was trying to hide anything, I simply wouldn't have come over at all."

He smiled and wrote some more on his own clipboard, and then he took me into another room which had a computer with google pulled up. John Cheese was already in the search box.

"Do me a favor and pull up your website."

Shit. I thought about all the dick jokes and stories about wife-beating. I thought about the board raids and video game griefing that I had documented on the site. I thought about the cursing, ranting, drunken, half-insane character I had created in John Cheese, and I felt like throwing up. Fortunately, he didn't care to see the main site. He just wanted to see the forums. At that time, I wasn't sure which was worse.

"Ok, I see here that you asked them to stop. That's good. That'll work in your favor. Where's the original thread where you asked them to call?"

"I deleted those because I didn't want even more people to read it and call the station."

Part of that was true, but the main reason I deleted it was because if he read the original thread, I think I would have been in much more trouble than I currently was.

The cop read through the thread and replies and then took me back into the interrogation room. The bad cop had returned and was still scribbling on his clipboard.

"So what time did you call the station?"

"Me? Actually, I never called the station."

Bad Cop gave me a "bullshit" smirk and repeated his question.

"No, I'm telling you the truth. I've been at work the entire time, and I don't have a cell phone. Feel free to check the phone records at the dealership. I asked my friends to call, but I never called, myself."

They seemed to be satisfied with this and both of them wrote some more. After a few minutes of silence, Bad Cop said, "Well, we're going to have to arrest you, so as of this moment, we're going to read you’re your rights. However, we're not exactly sure what charge to give you. So let me make a call to the District Attorney, and I'll be back with you in a few minutes."

Half an hour later, he returned and said I was under arrest for "accountability for phone harassment." He had me sign the scribbled-on clipboard, which contained my full statement, and I noticed that at the top, I had been officially tagged with an alias by the State of Illinois: "John Cheese." At that moment, I was sure that my life's work was done.

I was processed and put into a holding cell, pending my bail and was allowed one phone call. I honestly considered calling the radio station and asking if Whopflopple Elementary School was closed, but I decided against it. Instead, I called my wife to let her know I was in jail.

The good news was that she wasn't pissed. The bad news was that we were flat broke, and we wouldn't have any money until I got paid several days from then. So accepting my fate, I laid down on the bunk (slab of concrete with a one-inch thick pad laid across it) and considered getting in some much-needed nap time.

Fifteen minutes later, another officer appeared at my cell and unlocked the door.

"Your bail has been posted. You're free to go."

He took me into the processing office and gave me back my belongings and then escorted me out the back door, where one of the salesmen from my workplace stood, smiling and smoking a cigarette.

"You know you owe me big, right?"

"I know. Thank you so much. I'll have you paid back as soon as I can."

Then, right in front of the cop, he said, "Take your time. It was worth every single penny. That was the funniest shit I've heard of in a long time."

The cop smiled at the salesman and went back into the station. We finished a cigarette each and then went back to work.

Part 3: Prosecution