Deputy warns parents of online danger - and it's not Facebook

Ride shotgun with a cyber cop as he patrols the digital world and you’ll stop chuckling over how teenagers know more about computers than most adults.

Consider that experts estimate 20 percent of teenagers have, um, compromising photos of classmates on their smartphones.

As I walk into sheriff’s deputy Quyen Vuong’s office at a high school in Southern California — the issues explored here are common to other high schools — Vuong is about to tell me about a new Sheriff’s Department initiative called “Texta-tip.”

But he politely delays our discussion. He’s already received a phone text tip.

And it requires immediate attention.

THE INFORMATION AGE

Vuong sits before three screens powered by two computers. One is the armor-plated laptop from his patrol car that has access to information only available to law enforcement — DMV photos, juvenile records and the like.

As he scans the Internet, Vuong’s fingers tap his iPhone. He looks up for a moment and explains the text was about a fight that may break out. It’s lunchtime. And there’s not a moment to lose.

When I agree to mask student identities, Vuong agrees to show me the message on his iPhone.

“Joe claims to be in a gang with others and says he’s going to jump John,” the text states. “You can check Joe and even his profile picture has him representing (the gang) and there’s a gang page on Facebook.”

If true, the text is a report of a criminal threat. It is specific — and there are means to carry out the threat.

But this is high school, and Vuong knows kids say a lot of things. His first mission isn’t to arrest someone. It’s to stop a fight before someone gets hurt.

Handling his iPhone like Jason Bourne handles a gun, Vuong touches base with school security, which is on the lookout. He calls his partner. The deputy already is at a fast-food joint where kids hang out.

Vuong asks if I know how to spot a teenage fight. I respond with a 20th-century answer: a gang of boys?

But this is the 21st century. Vuong answers, “You look for a crowd where everybody’s holding up their phones.”

In the Information Age, it’s not just how fast you throw a punch. It’s how fast you electronically share the fight — and embarrass someone. In cyberspace, the audience is worldwide.

As more girls fight girls, for example, combatants often attempt to rip an opponent’s shirt off. If such behavior sounds like “Jersey Shore” playing out in the real world, it is. But most teens aren’t like “Snookie,” who gets paid to play the drunken fool.

For a high school student, humiliation can lead to suicide.

An assistant walks into Vuong’s office and hands over printouts with Joe’s and John’s class schedules and photos.

MERELY A SIMPLE MISUNDERSTANDING

After being tracked down — unharmed — the would-be victim, John, sits down with Vuong. An assistant principal arrives to ensure the student is OK.

Listening, I discover that getting details from a teenager is no easier for an officer than for a parent. After many “you knows,” “it’s like,” and “da, da, das,” it’s apparent that there was a misunderstanding between Joe and John and that emotions escalated.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the whole mess started online.

The two boys were playing a video game against each another. But they were in separate households. Someone pretended to be John and “pranked” Joe using gaming technology that allows participants to talk to one another.

“When you’re anonymous,” Vuong tells me later, “there are no rules.”

The assistant principal, the deputy and John agree that the student will go home with an adult in the afternoon, and that there will be a mediated meeting between Joe and John.

“Everyone wants to see a fight,” Vuong tells the teen. “But school will suspend you if you fight.”

John nods, and Vuong advises: “Tell your friends we told you about suspension. You can use that as a way out.”

Vuong smiles watching the student leave. Crisis averted.

THE JOURNEY

Vuong’s vocation as a cyber cop evolved over time and married two of his passions: law enforcement and connecting with kids.

When Vuong was 9, he was walking home from school in Van Nuys, Calif., and happened to pass a patrol car. Like many, he instinctively was wary.

But the officer offered a “Hi there” and invited Vuong to check out the police car.

“Ever since then,” Vuong explains, “I’ve looked up to law enforcement.”

First, Vuong earned a bachelor’s degree in criminology from California State University, Fullerton, then a master’s in emergency management. He worked as a Los Angeles County deputy before transferring to Orange County, Calif., where he has served for 13 years.

Along the way, he wanted to serve as a role model and help young people share his positive perspective about men and women in uniform.

“I want to reach out and help assist and encourage kids to do well, to treat others nicely.”

With three young children of his own, Vuong jumped at the chance to become a school resource officer.

But Vuong found a very different world from when he was in high school. Instead of passing notes, students text. Instead of sneaking magazines, kids can watch other kids on webcams doing what most adults still regard as intimate acts.

Vuong knew that to deter crime, he needed to know at least as much as kids, many of whom grow up sharing computer secrets.

With the support of the Sheriff’s Department, Vuong attended classes taught by private companies as well as the FBI. He learned how teens hack technology, how they bypass controls on computers, how they hide documents, photos and videos — and where they hang out in a fast-changing virtual universe that barely existed 15 years ago.

TECHNOLOGY IS PORTABLE, DANGEROUS

Shiny new tablets, laptops, MP3 players, smartphones, video games played over the internet — great holiday presents for tech-hungry teenagers.

But Vuong sees something different when he looks at such an array. And it’s nothing like the ads on television that depict clever gadgets wrapping themselves in pretty paper and bows. Vuong clicks his mouse and up pops a photo of a dark alley with garbage bins. A lone figure lurks in the shadows. He asks me, “Would you want your kid here?” I gulp. The answer’s obviously “no.” But I’m missing something. What’s this sinister alley have to do with computerized platforms?

Everything, Vuong replies. And that’s a problem with sometimes deadly consequences.

Vuong asks if I’m familiar with Facebook and Twitter.

Hey, for me Facebook isn’t just a website. It’s a verb. I’m the hippest papa on the planet. Or so I think.

Vuong asks if I’ve heard of Stickam, ChatRoulette or Formspring.

Huh? Vuong says they’re the hot social media sites for teens.

I ask my son if he’s heard of the websites. He struggles to keep from laughing. He stopped using Stickam four years ago.

I feel better learning that Formspring and ChatRoulette are only two years old. But, Vuong says, 24 months is plenty of time to do plenty of damage.

As a cyber cop, Vuong explains, “We use the social media sites to deter crime and save kids.”

While most social media critics are concerned about Facebook and users’ privacy, Vuong says Stickam, ChatRoulette or Formspring are far more scary. In cyberspace, anybody can be anybody. And that means they can easily say anything about anybody.

On sites such as Formspring where anonymity isn’t just allowed but essentially encouraged, Vuong says, “Kids are setting themselves up to be cyber-bullied.”

With automatic feeds to people’s accounts on Facebook, such social media creates an even more explosive situation.

In some ways, Formspring is a digital version of the game “Truth or Dare,” in which people asked bold questions.

But with Formspring, you register under your real name but ask questions anonymously. And on the Internet, that means any question and reply — no matter how gross.

I took a spin through Formspring. Let’s just say that what I found is beyond your imagination — unless you were raised by a pack of drunken pornographers. And in pre-digital times, hanging out with drunken pornographers took some doing. Now, they’re just a mouse click away.

So who are the teens on such websites?

Vuong offers that teens riding the new wave of social media sites are a mix of kids looking for attention — a pretty large group; teens following the pack — another pretty large group; and kids who don’t know what they’re getting into — ditto.

In a presentation to parents, Vuong offers a video from a teenage boy about Formspring. “For me,” the kid says, “I honestly don’t understand why anyone in their right mind would sign up for this website and put this chaos in their life.”

TRAGIC CONSEQUENCES

But teens thrive on drama and chaos. And that can lead to tragic outcomes.

Formspring has been linked to at least three teen suicides.

According to the Buffalo News, the most recent involved the September death of Jamey Rodemeyer in Williamsville, N.Y.

Jamey was 14 years old.

ChatRoulette is like using Skype video chat — but with strangers.

How awful is ChatRoulette?

Even the cartoon “South Park” has lampooned it. Not only am I reluctant to share what I found on the website, I can’t even share South Park’s punch line in a family newspaper.

Here’s a hint. According to an informal study by Robert J. Moore, CEO of a database analytics company, 89 percent of Chat Roulette’s patrons are male.

Stickam’s similar to Chat Roulette but without the roulette part. It also facilitates posting videos to other sites. The outfit prides itself on monitoring activity. But monitoring is difficult.

On Feb. 26, 2009, according to CBS News, a 20-year-old man in Arizona raped an unconscious woman and used Stickam to show the act in real time on the Internet.

The assailant was arrested, pleaded guilty and was sentenced to prison.

Vuong shows a video of a buxom teenage girl on Stickam adjusting her top as two teenage boys watch.

“Parents,” the cyber cop says, “think we are the decency police.” But Vuong points out that with millions of postings on the Internet every day, parents need to be their own decency police.

“It’s a scary time.”

Mind you, Vuong has yet to tell me about the adults who prey on teens.

Predators often develop relationships over months if not years, Vuong warns. Part of their methodology is to gather incriminating data to coerce teenagers.

Of digital texts, photos and videos, Vuong advises, “Assume nothing is private.”

He suggests that parents collect digital devices when it’s time for lights out, control computer passwords and use monitoring tools such as keystroke logging software or online services such as eBlaster or Spector Pro. Such products record messages, emails, online chats and websites.

And Vuong suggests checking your child’s Internet history. He also offers a tip: Check to find out if there are gaps; that usually means history has been deleted.

I point out that some would argue such oversight invades the child’s privacy and turns parents into spies.

“We are not our child’s friend,” Vuong answers. “We have a better relationship than that. We are their parents.”

Digital dads, matrix moms — welcome to cyber patrol.