I have been quite astonished by the notion that the poor dumb kid who got into Sarah Palin’s Yahoo account by changing her password might actually go to jail.

a. That’s considered hacking?

b. Who hasn’t guessed someone’s password or obtained it in a similar manner, particularly in the midst of an ugly or acrimonious breakup in which you are certain you are being lied to on a dozen different fronts?

Indeed, as you may have guessed, I guessed my ex’s password and busted him cheating on me by doing so.

In fact, my worst “hacking” story, by today’s standards, should have landed me in jail for a long time, not only for “hacking,” but for fraudulent misrepresentation. Here’s my story, people, and I’d love to hear yours.

So I first busted my husband with his future bride by picking up his cellphone and noticing dozens and dozens of calls from a suburban number I didn’t recognize. I did a reverse look-up on 411. Sure enough her name appeared. When I asked: “Who’s Bitchface O’Sluttypants and why are you in touch with her several times a day?” he caved like a house of cards, reassured me of his deep and abiding love for me, compared me favourably to her in every way, and ended the relationship immediately (so he claimed).

Flash forward a couple of months and the tell-tale signs return. He’s shifty and distant. This time I find out when he tells me at the end of our summer vacation — which was rife with a WHOLE LOT of banging — that he doesn’t love me anymore and wants out of the marriage. I ask: “Are you seeing Bitchface O’Sluttypants again? Is this about her?” He is indignant. “Of COURSE not!” he hisses. As we are driving back home with kids in the car, I furtively pick up his cellphone and once again see her number in the call logs night and day.

This time, he insists they are not sleeping together but simply have an “emotional connection.” He wants out, but not for her, he insists. In fact, he doubts he really wants to see her at all — there are so many things he doesn’t like about her, including her tits. Classy. He needs time out of the house and totally alone to figure out what he wants to do, he says. He packs up and leaves as I am a hysterical mess, having to lie to the kids about what’s going on. I lie awake all night knowing he’s lying, but needing proof. One day I decide I must do what I have to arm myself with the truth so I can decide what to do to protect myself, my kids and my marriage. I guessed his password in five minutes. I sent her a “sexy time” e-mail. And her immediate response proved that not only were they banging, they’d been banging, repeatedly, for quite some time, That’s right, I not only hacked his account — I pretended to be him.

I won’t deny there was some sick satisfaction when I talked to him on the phone that day and asked him to reassure me again that she wasn’t in the picture, that our trial separation was not about her. “Oh no, I don’t even talk to her,” he replied. I forward the exchange proving that they’d had sex the night before. His stammering, stumbling and utter shock at my “diabolical spying methods” was momentarily wonderful. Then, of course, I spent the next few days in the pit of a horrible, terrible, sobbing freakout.

And that was punishment enough, really. I don’t think jail was really necessary, nor is it for this poor Sarah Palin hacker, who has probably spent the last week in a horrible prison of despair that is worse than any the penal system could assign him.

Tell us here at BCP — what’s your worst hacking story? And should you go to jail for it?

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