His new boss, a retired police captain for whom Madrid was working as a private investigator and expert witness, proudly showed off his young protégé, the second employee of Bob Parker & Associates. Parker, now 67, introduced Bob Madrid, now 42, to lawyers and other prospective clients.

The credentials on Madrid's four-page curriculum vitae were impressive: an undergraduate degree from the University of Maryland (1982), a master's degree from Georgetown University (1983), a medical degree from Harvard (1987), and a doctorate from Massachusetts Institute of Technology (1988).

Madrid claimed to have worked as a "foreign service officer" for a division of the Central Intelligence Agency from 1983 to 1997, some of the same years he said he was earning three graduate degrees. He also claimed to have worked as a ranking U.S. State Department official at the Salt Lake City Olympics.

From the beginning, however, some in this town of 25,000 were skeptical of Madrid's imposing background. "Why was a guy with those credentials coming to Anniston, Alabama, to work as a gumshoe?" asked attorney George Monk.

The answer was simple. None of it was true, according to law enforcement officials, friends and the schools from which he claims to hold degrees.

Now a Talladega County grand jury has indicted Madrid on five counts of perjury, a Class C felony that carries a maximum sentence of up to 10 years in prison and a $5,000 fine. The counts may later be lumped into a single charge, said Talladega District Attorney Steve Giddens.

Madrid, represented by Birmingham attorney William M. Dawson, pleaded not guilty Sept. 19.

Under oath: Madrid's legal problems began earlier this year, as he was preparing to testify as a forensics expert in defense of an accused murderer in neighboring Cleburne County. Assistant District Attorney Brian McVeigh read Madrid's outline of his upcoming testimony. Some of it did not ring true, McVeigh thought, and some of it was so poorly written it seemed unprofessional.

McVeigh told defense attorneys he had doubts about Madrid's credibility, and they alerted Madrid. Suddenly, Madrid said he would not testify.

The prosecutor, however, subpoenaed Madrid to a February hearing, put him under oath and started firing questions.

"Did you, in fact, attend the University of Maryland?" McVeigh asked.

Madrid responded: "On the advice of counsel, I plead the Fifth Amendment."

Madrid refused to answer further questions about his education. Circuit Court Judge Samuel H. Monk II asked Madrid the simplest of questions: "Where were you born?"

A long silence enveloped the courtroom. Finally, Madrid answered: "I have a difficult time answering that, your honor."

"Sir?" the incredulous judge responded.

Then Madrid said he was born in Washington, D.C., on June 26, 1963. His curriculum vitae, however, says he was born in San Antonio, Texas.

Own little world: Word of Madrid's startling testimony quickly spread across northeast Alabama's tightly knit legal community. Judges and prosecutors searched for cases where Madrid had testified about his credentials, and found one.

In September 2003, Madrid testified in Talladega - about 20 miles south of Anniston - in a lawsuit involving the estate of a murdered doctor. His testimony focused on confirming his own credentials so the estate would pay him for investigative work.

Since then, Madrid has remained something of a mystery man to investigators in Alabama. School friends and public records, however, help piece together some of his history.

Madrid was raised in Maryland and in 1981 graduated from Hyattsville's DeMatha Catholic High School, where John Moylan was principal. He remembers Madrid as "a good student" who was "never in trouble." Moylan's son, Tim, played golf with Madrid. "He was a good guy but lived in his own little world," Tim Moylan said.

Madrid did attend the University of Maryland, but registrars at the school's branches have no record of a degree. Officials at Georgetown say he took only noncredit continuing-education courses there. Registrars at Harvard Medical School and MIT say they have no records on Madrid.

Around 1988, Madrid worked at Massachusetts General Hospital as a technician in a neurovascular laboratory. Physician Robert H. Ackerman, who directed the lab and taught at Harvard Medical School, remembers Madrid, and said his job required no particular expertise and only an undergraduate degree.

A move to Salt Lake City: Madrid went on to work in investments and insurance in Maryland and Minnesota. In the late 1990s, Madrid worked in marketing for Minneapolis-based ViatiCare Financial Services LLC, which purchased life-insurance policies from terminally ill people.

By 1999, Madrid and his wife of four years were divorcing, and he had moved to Salt Lake City. He worked for Salt Lake City attorney Michael D. Mansfield, who had formed similar investment companies. Madrid's business cards listed him as president and CEO of Eagle Gate Asset Management.

State records show Eagle Gate Asset Management incorporated in February 1999 and went out of existence three years later. Mansfield's related companies - the Mansfield Corp., Mansfield Trust and Mansfield Viatical Management Inc. - filed for bankruptcy in 2002 and 2003. Mansfield filed personal bankruptcy in December 2003, and he has not responded to interview requests.

In 2000, Madrid dated Selina Volz and told her that he was a millionaire. They first met through a singles Web site on America Online and then at a bagel shop. Volz, a divorced mother of three, found Madrid "charming." She remembers: "He took me to very nice restaurants and we had the best wines."

Volz says Madrid had an unpaid position at KIQ radio, where he hosted an afternoon drive-time talk show, and she worked in a pet-grooming salon. She says Madrid's mother put up the money to buy a salon of their own, where Madrid drew a salary and answered the telephone.

On June 30, 2001, a little over a year after their meeting, Madrid, then 38, and Volz, then 28, were married. The simple ceremony was performed by Utah Attorney General Mark Shurtleff, who had appeared on Madrid's radio program.

"We were professional friends," Shurtleff says. "We never went out or hung out together. He seemed like a pretty smart guy, well-read, but I don't recall him holding himself out as any expert."

Even before the wedding, Volz had doubts about Madrid, noticing stories he told would inexplicably change. He said the diamond ring he gave her was an antique from Israel - Madrid had abandoned Catholicism and converted to Judaism - but a jeweler who appraised it for insurance told her it was a fake.

"Little lies would surface," Volz says. "I knew he had a problem, but you try to make it work. I didn't want another failed marriage, but it only got worse."

Meanwhile, Madrid called Parker and said he wanted to retire early and come work with him as a private investigator. Parker was delighted to have a partner and didn't ask what job Madrid was retiring from.

The two had met on a golf course in Virginia in 1984, where other golfers called Madrid "Doc." Parker later testified that he presumed Madrid was a physician.

By the time Madrid and Volz moved to Anniston in August 2002, they had an infant daughter. Unpacking boxes, Volz ran across pay stubs from jobs Madrid had not mentioned. She started asking questions, which led to their divorce, finalized in December 2002. She has returned to Salt Lake City and remarried.

Madrid has declined to talk about the perjury charges and has kept a low profile in Anniston. His neighbors on Glenwood Terrace haven't seen him and speculate that he is living with his parents, who live up the street.