Toward the end of last semester, in case you hadn't heard, the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) randomly sued a Duke student's Internet Protocol (IP) address for illegal filesharing. Jargon aside, that student was me. Larry Moneta notified me in an e-mail, which was followed by a brief conversation. I gathered that I was going to be sued for my approximately 700 copywritten song files to the tune of approximately... (note the presence of vagueness). After a month or so of no news-and a possible $3-million cloud still hanging over me-I was prompted to call a help/support/information hotline for the 3,000-plus individuals who were, had been and would be in my position. The sharing situation finally seemed to materialize officially, as the 800-number drones informed me that:
1) no such law suit had gone to court;
2) I was being sued for 229 illegally obtained song files;
3) the maximum monetary fine for my "crime" was $190,000;
4) I was advised to settle with the RIAA for a sum of $3,750;
5) it was required that I make the decision to settle or "force the initiation of litigation" some time during the next 10 days;
6) as per the stipulations of the settlement, I would not become a named defendant in the case.
Those who know my slacker self were not surprised to find that I lost my cell phone during the period stipulated in Condition No. 5-and that I neglected to borrow another phone to call the settlement hotline. Upon the rediscovery of my phone on July 23, I received a voicemail stating the RIAA's intent to begin litigation.
I haven't heard anything since.
Should I call back the hotline? I lost the 800 number, but I suppose I could find it relatively easily on the Internet. I don't exactly feel inclined to raise my hand and scream, "Why haven't you sued me yet?!" But, then again, I've only spoken with Moneta and a hotline of script-trained arbitrators. The if-it-ain't-broke-don't-fix-it mentality seems an appropriate posture to assume. While I've almost completely forgotten the once-assumed reality of the situation, every now and then I wonder: Maybe it was all an elaborate prank, like The Game, starring Michael Douglas. Other times I find myself pissed off; the lack of official anything, much less closure to the potential lawsuit, denies me the ability to celebrate my victory against The Man. It's so like The Man-at some times an impenetrable wall, at others a disappearing Wizard of Oz production.
At any rate, I have decided to capitalize on my situation. Behind my supernihilist, renegade faAade lies a raging capitalist, attention-hungry alcoholic. I'm a drunk Republican grandfather at heart. Being that my GPA has suffered due to bureaucracy, poor decision-making skills and lack of time management, I will rely on my treatment of the law suit as an extraordinary example of my overzealous nature to investigate and refine the subtleties of U.S. law, and "the law" in a more broad and philosophical sense. By inactively refusing to settle the suit, I've effectively put the ball in the RIAA's court, so to speak. Maybe a law school admissions officer somewhere will appreciate the argument that slackers can and have caused profound and lasting changes in our understanding and employment of the law. Maybe.
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