Saul Goodman - Get Off the Grid! - Saul Goodman's Guide to Staying Off the Radar

The Three R ’s—Routine, Routine, Routine.The moment you’ve settled anywhere for any length of time and mapped out your typical day, just stick with it. Aspire to be like Mr. Rogers, who came home at the same time every day, swapped his jacket for a sweater, and slid on his comfortable tennis shoes. And you know what? Every day was a beautiful day in his neighborhood.

This can be a little confusing if you’ve been under surveillance in the past, I know—because a great tip for anyone who feels they’re being followed is to throw surprising blips into the daily grind. And if you are concerned that someone is on your tail, may have nefarious reasons for eyeballing you too long over a cup of coffee in the mall food court, go ahead and drop a little unpredictable turn in your route home. Duck into a gym like you’re ready to take a spin on the stationary bike, then scan the parking lot for still shapes sitting and watching behind the wheel of a parked car, that kind of thing.

If you’re feeling secure in your new day-to-day, adhering to a routine keeps you locked in your anonymous groove. No waves made means no flash flooding your new life.

What about roadblocks, though? I’ve already gamed a literal roadblock scene to gift you with a little taste of an issue you may have to confront as someone who has taken the non-societally approved move of adopting a new name, life, even persona, if possible.

The roadblocks encountered doing this, though, are obviously not all literal cops standing in the middle of a suburban side street ready to rob you of your freedom and donuts. Let’s have a fun and eye-opening look at all the ways this could go bad for us!

Talking!Say you are in the final stages of getting out. Say you’ve got all the papers in place and now all you need to do is execute the exit strategy. Then say it occurs to you that you’re pretty proud of what you’ve got set up. Seriously, some people—in spite of the fearful reasons that often prompt a move like this—might be tempted to brag. Maybe call up that one cousin, Timmy, who never truly believed in you, to impress him with this incredibly clever move. Your ego is your own worst roadblock. You’re doomed to fail the moment some operator—be they cop or bad guy’s henchman—comes to Timmy’s door to casually inquire where that slugabed cousin of his might be. The cops will definitely go that far if you are facing charges, and the bad guys will, too. They might even throw a little murder in for good measure. So then you’ll have poor Timmy on your conscience and some cut-rate cutthroat on your tail.

Working!I’ve already touched on the perils of old routines and the pleasures of locking into new hobbies that have nothing to do with your old life. One related aspect of that is worth some focus here: jobs. Do not go back to doing whatever you did before.

If I could go back to what I was doing before, would I? Well, I put an awful lot of heart and soul into it—not to mention the years it took to acquire that law degree and shiny reputation. Ask yourself about what you’ve done that was an investment for you: medicine, education, animal husbandry—and think about how easy it would be to give that jalopy a jump-start and get it going again. No can do. If you’ve got the proper papers to fool an employer, get a job in another field entirely. Figure out something you could do as a general contractor, depending on your skills. Freelancers often need only fill out a tax form and some kind of quick-and-dirty contract for work. No need to rig a background check. Best-case scenario, you don’t go back to work at all—but if you have to, try to find employment that leaves the sparsest paper trail.

Crime!If crime was how you made your money before you took off for the frontier, there may be a case for continuing down that path. If you were pretty good at it, that is. Though: how good could you be to end up here? This goes against the preceding advisory about doing a different job all together, but I understand that there’s sometimes no comparable “straight” career to many of the fine and lucrative positions available to any up-and-coming drug dealer or enforcer out there.

If you’re looking to get back into the game, remember to tread lightly. You’re staring down a brand-new town of folks who are inclined not to trust fresh faces. A world of snitches, informants, and psychopaths who would shoot you with one hand while fondling a hoagie with the other. So if you were an enforcer, maybe try going somewhat “straight” by contracting with local bars to be a bouncer. If you made your dough by muling your drug of choice around, look into the life of a courier. There’s a skill set beneath the skill set that made you good at the thing you used to do.

On the flip side, I’m not only thinking of criminals here, but of crime victims! What if you get mugged and robbed of all your new papers? Or lose access to your money? Immediately, you’re thrust into a situation that would force just about anyone to instinctively seek assistance—but the closest you ever want to be to a cop is sharing a line at the Ponderosa. One tried-and-true thing I’ve said a million times holds true more now than ever before: should you encounter a crime while living under an assumed identity, shut the hell up! Do not talk to the cops. If worse turns worst, involve an attorney—they are bound by law to keep your secrets.

Driving!This will be tough for some, but driving any vehicle that requires a license after you’ve skipped out on your old life presents so many potential issues I’m not sure where to begin. I’ve mentioned one: the old-fashioned dragnet-style roadblock. A DUI checkpoint would be a near-identical situation. Cops are trained to carefully scrutinize all those papers you hand them at such a checkpoint. It won’t matter if you’re sober—I was about to say, “as a judge,” then I remembered many of the judges I had the pleasure to meet in the courtroom—and have been teetotaling all your life. If Officer McMuffin detects anything off in your papers, he or she will want to make their inspection a little more invasive. If your fake papers, cards, everything aren’t perfect, your best bet may be to not drive at all. No car, no motorcycle, not even your big green tractor. Stick with rollerblades and riding lawnmowers to get around.

For the average American not living in a metropolitan hub, that will be a real downer, especially if you live in an area where commuter services are few and far between. The best solution really is to acquire a quality state ID, then use public transportation, walk, bike. Even a nifty little scooter might do, if you don’t find the prospect of putt-putting around town on one too embarrassing.

Of course, it’s still possible to drive without a proper license. There are sovereign citizen types who will tell you that it’s even constitutional under something called “right to travel.” But good luck with that one if you get pulled over—if you’re already living under a different name and have assumed a whole new life, the last thing you want is to get deep into any legal weeds regarding whether it’s okay to be piloting whatever vehicle you have without an actual operator’s license. Besides, people often apply the phrase “constitutional right” to a cornucopia of topics without reading the fine print on the sacred text—so buyer beware when it comes to that defense.

If you do drive without a license, make sure everything about your vehicle that might draw police attention is in perfect order. Tags look authentic and up-to-date; all lights functioning properly, tires in good shape. Follow all traffic laws to the letter—don’t scoot an inch past the stop sign, be cautious turning right on red. After all, being a lousy driver was what ended up getting serial killer Ted Bundy arrested, in the end. We’ve gotta raise the bar above Ted Bundy, right?