Reversi

I wouldn't call it a mistaken identity, but while reporting a story about a robbery, a store owner (actually the husband of the owner of a salon) asked to see some credentials to make sure I wasn't the thief.

I was at the wrong place, the robbery happened down the road, but the man said he had heard about it and the police had passed out fliers about it, so I asked for a copy of the flier.

That's when he asked to see my ID.

Company policy at my newspaper disallows me from writing a blog associated with it, and I'd rather not mention the town name, but it's an outer-suburb of Boston, with very few people my age (mid 20s) living there.

Anyway, it seems a guy basically fitting my description for height, age and race has been sticking up local businesses over the month or two.

As a white man (about 5' 10", 5' 11"), the idea of being a mistaken suspect has always been an abstract concept to me.

Overwhelmingly across the US, it is black men or Asian men, or Latino men, who are picked when police are looking for someone else.

In this case, the man in the salon, was only being careful - there have been three robberies in the area in under 30 days - but it was still disconcerting.

I can still only imagine how it must feel to be hauled off, put to trial and then thrown in prison despite never having committed the crime.

For the record, I didn't do it, and based on what the last robbery victim told me, the alleged robber is capable of far more cruelty than I could over commit.

But you won't read about any of that on this blog.