TERRE HAUTE, Ind. – He turned 53 Thursday. He will be 59 when he regains his freedom.

When his friends pass three Terre Haute checkpoints, they are relieved of keys, pens, pads, cellphones, etc., all money except $5 bills and less.

He is called from his job making mail pouches for the U.S. Postal Service – at 92 cents an hour – but when he is seated in the visitors'' room, only his visitor is allowed to rise and use the vending machines. If he wishes to go to the restroom, he is accompanied by a guard.

Cell Block C, next to death-row D, houses 75 inmates, more than half of them lifers. They have access to a room with four TV sets and multiple headsets. Through the force of his personality and his sports expertise, he makes decisions as to the games they watch. These convicts have no direct access to a computer or the Internet.

That''s the career Springfield''s Stephen Wacaser has carved for himself. It is a life wasted ... destroyed by a lifelong need to be something more than he is, by a destructive gambling habit, by a penchant for multiple impersonations, forgery, theft and credit card fraud. His natural charm and intellect often disguised his pathological pattern of action. But, as a habitual con artist, he has walked the prison yards of Michigan, Nebraska and Utah.

The black sheep of his family, he forged checks on his brother and ran up debts on his buddies. When Judge Michael McCuskey handed down an 87-month sentence several years ago in the U.S. District Court in Urbana, he included these choice words: "Wacaser has misrepresented his whole life, not only with crimes but fraud by misrepresenting who he was. He even ripped off his parents, who refinanced their home to pay his debts. I would have given him more if the law allowed it."

Since then, the state added two years for a separate incident. He gets out of prison in 2009.

Mind like a steel trap

Illinoisans remember Wacaser because, in the late ''90s, he was the most informed and articulate spokesman on prep basketball talent.

He possessed exceptional evaluation skills and a retentive memory. Some of us watched two games simultaneously at the Nike camp in Indianapolis and walked away confused. He could watch two games and remember everything.

With that bubbling knowledge, he was a favorite on talk shows and summer camps, was guest speaker for the Illini Rebounders, became a confidant of collegiate head coaches, spoke to college squads on the evils of gambling and was the behind-the-scenes authority in formulating all-state teams ... some of it as a "wanted man" and on the run.

He was an insider who told this writer within hours of Lon Kruger''s departure from Illinois that "Bill Self will be the next Illini coach."

Assisted by Dick Nagy, a former Illini aide who befriended him after his release from prison in 1994, Wacaser got a handful of early collegiate subscribers to his publication – "Assists, Turnovers and Loose Balls" – and built it to nearly 300. People readily forgave him for past mistakes. He had a niche as the foremost authority on basketball recruiting in these parts. And he became extra close to Kruger and the UI program, particularly during the recruitment of Brian Cook and the Peorians. People tended to forget his past. And he was making a decent living doing what he loved.

End of the line

What happened? Like too many smokers, gamblers and gluttons who have sworn off, he relapsed.

According to Wacaser, he lost $5,500 in a casino, was "maxed out" on his credit cards and with friends who loaned him money, somehow came up with another $6,500 and blew that, too. Call him a basket case at that point. Suicide was one consideration.

The sequence thereafter is too confusing to report accurately. Let''s just say he lost it. Leaving the casino dead broke and delirious, he robbed a motel clerk of either $93 or $53, depending on who you believe. Later on, desperate and on the run, he stole travelers checks from banks in Champaign and Florida.

For one who goes back with him 3 decades and often depended on him for information, recruiting guidance and radio shows, his downward spiral is distressing to see. But he lost control too many times for forgiveness to be an option. Old friend Stephen blew it.

Will I visit him again? Yes.

Will I understand? No.

Loren Tate writes for The News-Gazette. He can be reached via e-mail at ltate@news-gazette.com.