April Fool: Check Out This I-Kid-You-Not IRS Story

The Internal Revenue Service insists my only son--my brown-haired, baseball-loving son--doesn’t exist.

This is serious. The bureaucrats are threatening to take away my paycheck. They say I owe $838.40, plus interest and penalties, because we claimed Elliot as a dependent. They say he doesn’t exist.

Try explaining that to an 8-year-old.

“Does that mean I have to go to an orphanage or something?” he asked.

At first it was humorous nonsense.

Back in August, the IRS said we had to either pay up or prove that our son was not just a ruse to get a tax break.

I eventually learned that there have been many parents around the country who received letters challenging the existence of their children, mistakenly identified targets of an IRS crackdown on fraud.

At the agency’s request, our tax preparer mailed the IRS copies of his birth certificate, Social Security number, school records (top marks in most subjects), medical records and a letter explaining the IRS mistake.

My wife and I thought nothing more about it. But then, the threatening letters started arriving.

“URGENT!” the latest letter blared. “Immediate action is required. We have made several attempts to collect the tax you owe, but we still have not received your full payment. If you do not respond, we may seize your paycheck, bank account, auto or other property.”

Pretty shocking stuff, and our tax preparer was unable to fix the problem with telephone calls to IRS service centers.

So I decided to bring Exhibit A into the regional IRS office.

My son didn’t mind the trip to the 12-story federal building in Roanoke. He got to skip school for a few hours, and he was deep into his latest Star Wars book, “Young Jedi Knights.” He thought it was cool when they X-rayed his backpack in the lobby.

“I have an unusual situation,” I told Mike Spears, taxpayer service specialist, as we sat across from him at his desk.

“We assume that’s the case this time of year,” Spears said, cheerfully.

The tax man is lean, with the posture of a 2-by-4. He wore a blue button-down dress shirt with a muted tie, and he clicked a mechanical pencil to get the lead ready to fill out forms. But he did smile.

I explained. Spears reached over and gently pinched my boy’s arm. “Yeah, he’s here all right.”

The diagnosis was surprisingly quick and painless.

“We’re going to do an amended return since the tax is already assessed,” Spears said. “Let me see Elliot’s Social Security card. We’re going to get you back on the planet, here.”

As he put the card in a nearby copy machine, Spears matter-of-factly told a curious colleague, “It’s a kid that doesn’t exist.”

He also made copies of my son’s birth certificate, report card (top marks) and the picture of his entire second grade.

Spears finished filling out the 1040X form and informed me that the IRS actually owes me money--$10.

“So, how did this happen?” I asked.

Spears said the IRS questioned about 1 million taxpayers who sought to claim their children as dependents, and many of the challenges in southwest Virginia were unfounded. “It was like out of the blue,” he said. “We’ve had 300 or 400 in this office.”

Most get resolved quickly, Spears said. My response apparently fell through the cracks at the Philadelphia service center.

In 1995, the IRS spread the word that examiners would closely check returns to make sure people were entitled to claim dependents, agency spokesman Frank Keith said.

The warning was successful, he said: “There were 1.5 million fewer dependents listed on tax returns that were filed last year.”

My child, however, does exist. And we figured we had proved it.

Spears sent a message to Philadelphia via computer that asked the office to stop sending menacing letters or seize my paycheck for nine weeks, the longest delay he is allowed to authorize.

“It’s going to be nip and tuck because it takes eight to 13 weeks to process this 1040X,” Spears said.

It’s possible that the IRS office in Philadelphia will hold its ground, but we can file an appeal if it does, he said. He tried to reassure me.

“I can’t imagine they would,” he said.

But then, the only things that are certain in this world are death, taxes and bureaucratic foul-ups.