Chris Lamprecht steps up to a small computer terminal, punches in his ID number and receives his current account balance from the commissary computer. As an inmate at the Federal Correctional Institution in Bastrop, TX, Chris is allowed to check his balance using the prison's computer network. But such an act, using a networked computer, will be illegal for him to do once he is released from prison, according to his supervised release conditions. Chris, better known to hackers as 'Minor Threat,' is the first person in the United States to be banned from utilizing a computer network, including the Internet.

What makes this ban even more interesting is the fact that Chris is serving time for an offense entirely unrelated to computers, the Internet or hacking. In fact, the word 'Internet' was not even mentioned in Chris's case until the very last moments of sentencing, when the judge announced the conditions of the supervised release. In 1995, Chris was sentenced for a number of crimes to which he pled guilty. The crimes involved the theft and sale of Southwestern Bell circuit boards. And there is no doubt that Chris should be punished for these crimes by spending time right where he is -- in federal prison. The problem is that Chris was also sentenced for being a hacker, something for which he has never been charged, tried, prosecuted or even accused. ? It is not the first time that a hacker has been prohibited from using a computer as a condition of supervised release. Similar penalties have been meted out in other hacker cases. Both Kevin Mitnick and Kevin Poulsen, two high profile hackers who both have served jail time for their hacking, had restrictions placed on their computer usage as conditions of their release. What makes Chris's case different is both that he was banned specifically from the Internet and that his case is entirely unrelated to hacking or computers. In essence, Chris has been banned from the Internet for being a hacker, although he has not done anything to deserve it or done hacking that in some way violated the law.

The information that caused the most trouble came from two sources, his PSR (pre-sentencing report) and tapes of a phone call made while in prison. In the case of the PSR, it had been discovered that Chris, using the handle Minor Threat, was a hacker of some renown in the computer underground. In fact, he had recently been profiled by the underground hacker 'zine Phrack, in which he espoused a philosophy of non-cooperation with authorities, particularly in turning in friends and fellow hackers. This became prima facie evidence of Chris's non-cooperation, even though he had in actuality cooperated with authorities as a condition of his plea, providing them with information and evidence of his own crimes that they would have never discovered or had any reason to suspect. Chris's PSR had little relevance to his case. Instead it focused on the fact that he was a hacker which would, ultimately, be the thing for which Chris was sentenced.

The second element, the recorded conversation, was even more damaging. During a phone call to Chris, a friend suggested a form of electronic retaliation against the police involved in his arrest. Chris rejected the idea, indicating that he didn't believe such action was appropriate. The problem was that the tape was never provided to the defense nor played in court. Instead, the prosecution had a jail official testify about the conversation. While the conversation was about retaliation, the fact that Chris opposed such action was omitted, and the judge was left with the impression that Lamprecht had suggested, rather than rejected, the idea.

Based on this information, it would be easy to see how the judge's response could make sense. A known hacker, talking about retaliating against those who arrested, prosecuted and, who knows, possibly even sentenced him? But Lamprecht was not only banned from the Internet; he has also been prohibited from serving as a 'computer programmer, troubleshooter or installer,' the three professions that he held before his arrest. This in spite of the fact that his former employer offered to rehire him after his release.

So why might a judge make such a decision? We don't have to look very far for the answer. After announcing the sentence and the conditions of his supervised release, Chris was given an opportunity to respond. His remarks were short: 'I mean, computers are my life.' To this the judge responded, 'I understand that. And that's why I put these conditions in, if you want to know the truth ...'

It is a long way from selling stolen goods to being banned from the Internet and your profession of choice. The move, as the judge's comments reveal, seems to be purely punitive. Punishment, however, is not the goal of supervised release. The goal of supervised release is to reintegrate a convict into society and make him or her a productive member of society. Banning someone from the area where they are most likely to be productive seems counter-intuitive at best. The decision also promises to make it impossible for Chris to finish his degree in Computer Science at the University of Texas.? Other hackers, denied the opportunity to make a living at what they do best and enjoy the most, often return to hacking, occasionally with raised stakes. It is almost as if the court is intentionally working to turn hackers into what they fear most. Making it more difficult for hackers to take on legitimate jobs and turn their hobbies and obsessions into productive (even lucrative) careers is a recipe for disaster. By prohibiting hackers from using computers once released from prison, the judicial system is cutting off their only means to 'going straight.' In fact, most hackers who stay in the scene after college, usually end up working as programmers or security consultants, or by running their own systems. ? The potential for disaster is particularly acute in Lamprecht's case. Chris is a talented programmer. In the early 1990s, he wrote a program called ToneLoc, a phone dialing program modeled on the program Matthew Broderick used in the movie 'WarGames' to find open modem lines in telephone exchanges. The program was sophisticated enough to be embraced by both hackers and security experts, many of whom Chris helped by installing and testing the program, and by looking for security holes in their systems. Later, two of these security experts, both from government agencies, were prohibited from testifying as character witnesses at Chris's trial. One of these experts was explicitly told not to use government stationery to write a letter on Chris's behalf.

Since owning his first computer, Chris has taught himself to program in BASIC and assemble C and C++. While he has been in prison, he's learned Java. If allowed to work with computers again, he estimates that it will take him six months to get up to speed in Java, to the point that he will be able to begin developing software again. After his release, he wants to finish his degree and get a job programming -- his true love. As things stand right now, none of those options is possible.

Serious issues are raised here that transcend the scope of Lamprecht's case. In a recent decision, the Supreme Court held that the Internet is the most democratic form of expression and deserves the highest degree of protection. It is, in essence, the medium of free speech for the 21st century. To ban someone from the Internet, for an offense related neither to computers nor to the Internet itself, is at best punitive and at worst unconstitutional.

But perhaps more importantly, this sentence reveals how deeply embedded the fear of hackers is in the American judicial system. In this case, Chris pleaded guilty to one thing, and was sentenced for something completely different and unrelated to his crime. In short, Lamprecht was found guilty of stealing and is being duly punished for his crime. But he was also sentenced for being a hacker. What we need to question is how easily the figure of the hacker is transformed into a criminal, even when the hacker has done nothing demonstrably wrong.