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Not a Good Time to be Named Jodie: The Crimes of Jodie Harris

It takes a certain level of guts, rat cunning and steely determination to pull a significant con job – let alone a few hundred of them, which included breaching a high-security police station with the sole intention of stealing official equipment so that you can pass yourself off as an officer of the law. But to do it all while still using your own first name requires confidence, brazen attitude and, some would say, being just plain crazy.

But that’s exactly what attractive Queensland brunette Jodie Harris did through the late 1990s and up to the mid-2000s, when authorities finally caught up with her.

Often likened in the press during her three-state crime spree to Frank Abagnale Jr – the multitalented US con artist portrayed by Leonardo diCaprio that the film Catch Me If You Can was based on – Jodie had no problem passing herself off as a doctor or psychologist, flight attendant or rich business owner, or, her favourite, a policewoman.

It’s safe to say that Jodie gave her own name a very bad name, even though she teamed it with a variety of surnames, including Harding, Pearson-Harding and Kilroy. There was even a point where it got so tricky for her fellow Jodies that an innocent woman found herself being hauled off an interstate flight and questioned by police just because her parents had decided Jodie was a nice name to christen her.

But that all happened when Jodie Harris was at the height of her infamy, living in luxury, a far cry from the situation in which she came into the world. Jodie’s mother fell pregnant with her in 1978, at the age of 16, and wound up in Brisbane’s notoriously rough Boggo Road prison when she was 17. It seemed the die was cast for Jodie from day one.

The future con artist had a fascination with police from a very early age. Indeed, it was this obsession that would eventually end her criminal career. Of course, she had no way of knowing that when she started a relationship with an officer of the law while still in her teens. That affair came to a sticky end when the pair were investigated for insurance fraud when Jodie was just 17.

She had been driving her older lover’s car without a licence and crashed it. To keep herself out of trouble, she lied and said the boyfriend had been behind the wheel. When it looked like the real story was about to come out, landing both of them in trouble, the boyfriend decided it was time to remove himself from the situation. He fled overseas, but it was just the beginning of a life of sneaky crime for Jodie whoever-she-chose-to-be-at-the-time.

All those who knew her maintain that Jodie is a friendly woman – intelligent, with a strong way with words. Those are exactly the sorts of attributes that work well in the deceitful world of the con artist. Jodie was adept at getting people to like her; it was a skill that let her manipulate people seemingly at will. Her method was fairly basic – befriend a woman, steal any identification from her that she could, preferably a driver’s licence, assume her identity, then pilfer as much as possible from her bank accounts. Then move on to her next victim.

As a result, Jodie soon became accustomed to a luxury lifestyle. If she was drinking, it would be the finest French champagne on the menu of the best restaurant she could find. Her hotels were five-star all the way. She draped herself in designer clothes, offset with the sort of jewellery most women only dream of.

When she decided she wanted a canine companion to suit her image, Jodie was obviously not going to settle for a simple chihuahua from a pet shop – she paid $1500 for a designer bichoodle. And of course, her Bichon Frise/poodle cross had to look good alongside its affluent owner, so Jodie decked the dog out in a diamanté collar and cashmere coat.

Obviously a life of such extravagance can’t be maintained without regular financial incomings to match the excessive outgoings, so whenever her funds started bottoming out, Jodie would simply find herself a new victim and set herself up again.

One story goes that, while posing as a rich businesswoman in Victoria, Jodie stepped into a high-end boutique to indulge her passion for designer outfits. She endeared herself to the owner of the shop and took her out for coffee. While enjoying their lattes, Jodie distracted the storeowner long enough to pocket the licence from the wallet the woman had left on the table. Before long, Jodie had gone to the woman’s bank and convinced them to let her withdraw $50,000. The boutique owner quickly realised that something was amiss and had her account frozen. No problem, though – Jodie simply rang the bank and explained that she wanted the account reinstated. She then pilfered some more cash and set about finding her next victim.

The constant nature of her one-woman crime wave was bound to draw attention, which meant that by late 2005 – at the peak of her run – it seemed that there was a media report about a con by a woman named Jodie – or a slight variation of it – almost every other day.

One of those stories was about a lady who had fallen over on the street. By a fortunate fluke for her, Jodie saw what had happened and took charge before any other bystanders really knew what had happened. She told everyone that, being a doctor, she was qualified to handle the situation. The kindly doctor Jodie then helped the flustered woman to her car and drove her to the nearest hospital. During the journey to seek medical assistance, Dr Jodie helped herself to the woman’s driver’s licence – and after she had seen the lady safe at the hospital she helped herself to $20,000 out of the woman’s bank account.

But such opportunities didn’t land in Jodie’s quick-thinking lap every day, so sometimes she’d have to go out and create her own lucrative situation. More often than not, that involved hopping on a domestic flight and keeping an eye out for an easy mark. Once, on a flight from Melbourne to Brisbane, Jodie convinced the woman in the seat next to her that she was a qualified psychologist. After all, if you can’t trust a psychologist, who can you trust? With her guard down, it was no effort at all for Jodie to snatch her driver’s licence from her bag. Back on the ground and straight on the phone to her victim’s bank, Jodie was soon $22,000 richer for less than a day’s work – if you could call it that.

But all the tales of fast cash grabs pale in comparison to Jodie’s most daring exploit – when she was just 20 years old and using the surname Pearson-Harding. In 1998, the young woman obtained a rental car that looked as much like a regular police vehicle as she could find.

Her aim was to gain access to the high-tech Brisbane Police Headquarters. It turned out their expensive security system wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Jodie breached security there, gaining access right through the electronic gates, four times in one month, procuring a new part of a uniform from the storeroom each time. Before long she had a complete outfit, including the badge.

Resplendent in her new outfit, Jodie moved south, where she set about convincing members of the Victorian police force that she had skills as an undercover drug ring infiltrator. With no real reason to believe anyone – especially someone with a police badge and uniform – would lie about such matters it was only a matter of time before she was enjoying the thrill of tagging along on drug busts, without having to go through all that time-consuming training and working your way up the ranks of the police force.

It was around this time, as well, that the attractive young woman is alleged to have had affairs with several police officers, one of which would bring about an end to her criminal career.

With 100 or more Jodie frauds between October 2005 and June 2006 in New South Wales alone, her name, or variations thereof, spread through the Australian business community like a coastal bushfire fanned by a southerly. It was only a matter of time before police got a break. It came from a property leasing company on Sydney’s upmarket lower North Shore. A woman fitting Jodie’s description had tried to rent a property. When asked by staff to photocopy her references and documents relating to her previous renting history, the woman grew agitated and left as quickly as she could.

Now that they knew where she was, the authorities tapped into the mobile phone belonging to her fiancé – Andrew Twining of the Victorian police force. They got a line on her, and Jodie was soon arrested in the inner-city suburb of Ultimo.

Twining was also arrested, but was later released without charge. There is speculation that he helped his peers in the police force set up his fiancée, but that has never been confirmed. All that is known is that he was soon suspended indefinitely – on full pay.

A search of Jodie’s apartment yielded more than 100 items of identification, including driver’s licences, passports and credit, Medicare and SIM cards. They also found 10 wigs.

Pleading guilty to 43 of 124 charges of fraud and larceny in Sydney’s Central Local Court in September 2006, Jodie was sent to jail for a minimum of three and a half years, and received a fine of $175,000. But that was nowhere near the end of the matter. On 19 December 2008, a Victorian court imposed a new sentence of five years and nine months with a minimum of four years and three months in respect to both the New South Wales and Victorian offences.

When Jodie eventually walks free in Victoria she should enjoy a few minutes of fresh air before the Queensland detectives waiting at the gates whisk her home to no doubt face another slew of charges.

Despite all this, Jodie has been angling for early release by offering to help the federal police to catch other con artists. Maybe she wants to be like the man the press compare her with, Frank Abagnale Jr, who after serving his time in jail continues to advise the FBI in fraud-related matters.

Or maybe she just hopes she can get a nice uniform out of the deal …