Mistaken Identity
True story
I lived in L.A. for 32 years (which was at least ten years too long!) and I worked in the “photo industry”, there. I did that in one form or another rising through the ranks for 28 years (after that I just couldn’t deal with the traffic a moment longer!). And what does a commercial photographer who shoots primarily “automotive” do on his day off?
I’ll tell you what! He shoots anything but cars.
But here’s the thing: A REALLY dedicated automotive photographer took the love of cars to an entirely new level. When the first photos of the newest muscle car or the sexiest thing on wheels just out from an exotic Italian auto factory arrive in the form of a sleek and colorful magazine (or better yet! A dealership brochure!) it was almost an event that necessitated locking oneself into the men’s room for a half hour or so- if you know what I mean, and I think you do!
Myself, on the other hand looked at any shiny “piece of sheet metal on wheels” as a complex puzzle to be solved – how to light it? Which angle shows off the lines the best”? -and so on. It had no sexual cache for me. So when I was “off” and still (inexplicably!) felt like taking pictures I wondered what is the opposite of that Toyota whatever it was that I just shot?
A weekend earlier I had shot a bunch of landscapes on 35mm (this was a waste of time, really, because you can’t blow up a 35mm negative very far and landscapes look best BIG). I really should have taken a 4×5 camera (but they are bulky and heavy, and they require too may “accoutremonts”)…I could have taken my mid-sized camera (that one shoots 6×7 centimeter negs) with which I’ve shot small billboards, but…it was heavy too, dearth of accessories needed notwithstanding; I was lazy.
The 35mm would suffice.
I took the negs to a lab near the beach that was my “go-to” for anything not client-related and picked up the developed film and contact sheets a few days later. As I exited the shop and walked along the sidewalk toward my truck, suddenly there were two tall “burly” guys in tan (not grey!) suits bracketing me. Grey? in L.A.? I think not!
One introduced himself as a cop, showed me ID and deftly pocketed the badge again in one fluid motion. We’ve all seen this on TV dramas, but it really happened- right there in the gritty streets of…Hermosa Beach. Who knew that wasn’t something that Hollywood dreamt up. It was legit!
“Can we talk for a few minutes?”
Suddenly, I was sweating a bit and not from the beach and sun. I’d done nothing wrong but …
“Sure. How can I help you officers?”
“-Detectives.”
“Sorry. Detectives. What can I do for you?”
“Would you mind if we had a look at your photos?”
I wasn’t thrilled with this, as this definitely was not my best work. I hadn’t really planned on showing it to anyone. But, what would happen, I wondered, if I said “no”?
There was a split second argument that took place in my brain about then- I have rights! I don’t have to stand for this! What right do the police have to bother me when I doing nothing unlawful and minding my own business?!
Logic won out. And again, they were not particularly insightful photos, but I handed over the envelope with the negs and contact sheet.
One of the two pulled out the negatives in their glassine sleeves and squinted holding it up to the sky in hopes of discerning what was there.
“Ummm…” I offered. “The contact sheet tells you what’s on the negatives so you don’t have to do that.” I pointed at the piece of photo paper peeking out the top.
The other one adopted a look that clearly was supposed to say to me “I knew that!”
He didn’t.
They took a few moments to scrutinize the shots and returned my work to me.
“Sorry to have bothered you sir.”
“What’s all this about?”
I figured they weren’t photo critics- they would have laughed- or worse when they saw this…Hell, I’d debated whether I would even bother to develop them. If I had tossed the roll, though, this story wouldn’t have happened.
So, there were no “notes” on my composition; nor any critique of my choice of lens. Nope. None of that. These guys were all business.
“Well-“ one began- “There’s a man matching your description-”
Short? Pear-shaped, balding with a full beard? What a stud!
“-Who is masquerading as a photographer, taking models out into the woods and sexually assaulting them.”
I’m pretty certain that my eyes popped out of my head and I hurriedly gathered them up off the sand-scuffed concrete sidewalk.
“Holy shit! I hope you catch him!”
I am soooo glad I co-operated with these guys now! I thought about what might have happened next if I’d been “obstreperous”.
“Yes. We will.” Said the other.
“Thank you for your co operation.”
They turned and left.
Eventually my respiration resumed a more or less normal, regular, and most reassuring thump-ety-thump, and I resumed my life.
***
The incident forgotten, a few months later I was killing time at a photo lab downtown reading a semi current copy of Time magazine and wondering: “whereinthehellismyfilm, dammit?!”, when I came across an article near the back. There was a scant “8 column inches” with a photo, but it was the “lead” that caught my eye: “Sexual predator who posed as a photographer apprehended”.
I read the article, remembering my encounter with the two detectives, but when I saw the guy’s picture my heart froze. The two L.A. cops who promised to catch him didn’t, as he was finally caught months later outside of Denver, but now I know why those two cops book-ended me! This guy was my twin!
He’s serving a loooong prison term, so at least I don’t have to be concerned about my “evil-twin” doing something heinous again and me getting blamed. The damned guy looked just like me!
If I have a “doppelganger”, I’ll bet you do too. I’d seen people who looked “just like” a close friend many times, but never “me”.
And like I said…True story.
