America's defense against the threat of computer crime is a
confusing hodgepodge of state, municipal, and federal
agencies. Ranked first, by size and power, are the Central
Intelligence Agency (CIA), the National Security Agency (NSA),
and the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), large, potent
and secretive organizations who, luckily, play almost no role
in the Jackson story. The second rank of such agencies include
the Internal Revenue Service (IRS), the National Aeronatics
and Space Administration (NASA), the Justice Department, the
Department of Labor, and various branches of the defense
establishment, especially the Air Force Office of Special
Investigations (AFOSI). Premier among these groups, however,
is the highly-motivated US Secret Service (USSS), best-known to
Britons as the suited, mirrorshades-toting, heavily-armed
bodyguards of the President of the United States. Guarding
high-ranking federal officials and foreign dignitaries is a
hazardous, challenging and eminently necessary task, which has
won USSS a high public profile. But Abraham Lincoln created
this oldest of federal law enforcement agencies in order to
foil counterfeiting. Due to the historical tribulations of
the Treasury Department (of which USSS is a part), the Secret
Service also guards historical documents, analyzes forgeries,
combats wire fraud, and battles "computer fraud and abuse."
These may seem unrelated assignments, but the Secret Service is
fiercely aware of its duties. It is also jealous of its
bureaucratic turf, especially in computer-crime, where it
formally shares jurisdiction with its traditional rival, the
johnny-come-lately FBI. As the use of plastic money has
spread, and their long-established role as protectors of the
currency has faded in importance, the Secret Service has moved
aggressively into the realm of electronic crime. Unlike the
lordly NSA, CIA, and FBI, which generally can't be bothered
with domestic computer mischief, the Secret Service is noted
for its street-level enthusiasm. The third-rank of law
enforcement are the local "dedicated computer crime units."
There are very few such groups, pitifully undermanned. They
struggle hard for their funding and the vital light of
publicity. It's difficult to make white-collar computer crimes
seem pressing, to an American public that lives in terror of
armed and violent street-crime. These local groups are small
-- often, one or two officers, computer hobbyists, who have
drifted into electronic crimebusting because they alone are
game to devote time and effort to bringing law to the
electronic frontier. California's Silicon Valley has three
computer-crime units. There are others in Florida, Illinois,
Ohio, Maryland, Texas, Colorado, and a formerly very active one
in Arizona -- all told, though, perhaps only fifty people
nationwide. The locals do have one great advantage, though.
They all know one another. Though scattered across the
country, they are linked by both public-sector and
