How to expunge a criminal record Almost Cost Me Custody

Expunging criminal records is possible in most states, but the process and eligibility requirements vary widely. Recent changes made it easier in many places.

Nope. Just nope. Don’t believe the internet when it says “just fill out a form.” I straight-up lost a summer because of that garbage. And I’ll say it upfront: as climate-related relocations rise, and my basement floods for the THIRD damn August in a row, I’ve got zero patience left. Zero. Add that to the absolute stupidity of the resource mismatch in Illinois counties — like how is DuPage getting more clerks than Macon?! — and you’ve got an existential meltdown wrapped in legalese.

Also: who decided remote tribal aid applications had to be this… medieval? Like literally a fax was required. I had to dig through my neighbor’s attic to find an ancient HP OfficeJet to send documents. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So here’s where I lose it. First attempt to expunge my 2009 minor infraction — oh yeah, that was me trying to help a lost dog but somehow the cop said I ignored a posted sign (I guess barns can have signs now) — anyway, I used the template form from the Cook County site. Only… Cook has slightly different coding than Champaign apparently?!? WHO keeps track of this stuff?

They returned my petition with a sticky note: “Jurisdictional discrepancy; Use 2C variant.” Excuse me??? There’s a 2C variant? Am I filing taxes or applying for parole? Pick one, ma’am :/

And Then the DMV Tried to Give Me a Seizure (Not Literally. But Almost.)

This part I’m not proud of. I cursed out an 87-year-old clerk who just wanted her lunch break. I had driven 90 miles (my heat was out, my LIVING ROOM had icicles), got there sweaty-numb and she says: “Copy of ID not notarized properly.” I was shaking mad. The notary was literally her cousin. I thought this was rural synergy?!

Real stat: as of January this year, over 7,100 Illinois expungement petitions were rejected on clerical grounds. Clerical. As in… typo. Or wrong margin. Or outdated font. (npr.org)

Quote from someone smarter than me: “There’s an unforgivable bureaucratic gap between the legal right to expunge and the actual operational path to do it.” — Tamika Ross, Legal Aid Chicago.

I genuinely believed expungement would lift like an invisible weight, like I’d stop twitching every time a background check came up during a job search. But three tries in, it felt like I was sinking into administrative quicksand. They kept telling me “you’re eligible!” but eligibility doesn’t mean squat if the office is only open Tuesdays 10–3 and you still need an embossed seal from 2011…

I Screamed Into My Steering Wheel For Like Three Full Minutes

Try calling downstate for record checks. Go on. Try it. There’s a machine that answers and then loops you into a maze of options that leads nowhere. It’s like a Kafka novel programmed by a pessimistic AI. And no one under 70 picks up. I finally got through to someone in Fayette County who CLEARLY hated their job and I quote: “I ain’t touching expungements till July. We short-staffed.”

July. It was March.

I sat in silence afterward, like maybe my rage would dematerialize, but instead I just drove to an Arby’s and wept into a beef & cheddar.

Counterintuitive? You Bet. The Easier Counties Are HARDER.

Chicago is a nightmare, right? WRONG. At least they have digital portals. The smaller jurisdictions? Total analog chaos. In Shelby County, I had to PRINT A FORM, MAIL IT WITH A CHECK (who has checks?!), and hope they didn’t toss it for being “incomplete” due to one missing staple.

It gets spicy though—McLean County expedited my file in six days. SIX. Why? Because I included a handwritten note thanking the clerk for existing. She called me “decent.” That’s it. No system change. Just pure chaotic luck.

Also, in rural areas, judges sometimes just refuse cases out of sheer confusion. One attorney told me, “We just wait for the rotation—Judge Simmons won’t approve anything, but Judge Maher signs ’em without blinking.” Great. Legal roulette.

Remote tribal aid application? Oh right. That tied into my weird third cousin’s court-required community diversion paperwork, that had to go through a federally approved tribal liaison in Utah. Who was unreachable because his Wi-Fi got zapped mid-tornado.

I Lost a Whole Month Because I Thought ‘Sealing’ Was the Same Thing

They SOUND the same. Right?? I yelled at my own reflection after realizing the difference: sealing hides your record from public view but doesn’t eliminate it. Expungement erases it (in theory). The courthouse lady said, “They’re both good options!” which is not helpful when I needed to apply for childcare licensing & couldn’t have any flags.

I refiled everything using Expungement Form 800-X-B, which was allegedly the right one… until it wasn’t. Turns out I printed the 2020 version, and they updated to “PDF fillable format only,” meaning, yup, no prints accepted. They mailed it back with a post-it note saying “Fatal format.” FATAL?! Is this a form or an Avengers movie?

(If you’re wondering, yeah, I screamed again. Into a pillow shaped like Abraham Lincoln. Don’t ask.)

Do You Need a Lawyer? YES. BUT ALSO NO.

I paid a temp paralegal $180 to prep my first packet. She spell-checked it, but got the conviction code completely freaking wrong. So the judge laughed (I’m not exaggerating — actually laughed and dismissed it). Second time, I went DIY, got EVERYTHING right… but forgot to include the fee waiver form. Rejected.

Third time (charm?), I worked with this clinic in Carbondale who do Zoom sessions for remote folks. They were good-ish — I made it into the hearing queue, but then my file got pushed behind a stack because my background check hadn’t cleared yet (they use livescan fingerprints—mine were unreadable. My thumbs really botched it. >_<)

Final application went through eventually. December 28. FOUR YEARS after I first tried. Four. And that’s with me calling, emailing, begging, sending muffins.

Table: County vs. Wait Time vs. Approval Vibe

I’m Still Mad I Bought a Suit for the Hearing That Didn’t Happen

I got all prepped. Suit. Tie. Folder with three colorful tabs. I showed up to the courthouse… and the judge was on emergency leave. Postponed two weeks. No notification. Just a GHOSTED HEARING. I had to explain to my boss why I was absent. He said, “You sure this is even worth it?” and I swear my left eye twitched so hard I saw God.

Did I even make sense?

Because I feel like I didn’t, and maybe that’s fitting. Expungement in theory is this beautiful idea — wipe your slate clean so life stops punishing you for old mistakes. But in practice?? You need internet, printers, office hours that don’t exist, charm, LUCK, correct forms, updated software, the patience of a sea turtle, and apparently fingerprints that aren’t cracked from dish soap. What is this system even doing.

Anyway… if you’re thinking about it: yes, fight for it, but bring a helmet. And snacks. It gets wild.

LIHEAP crisis situations include both temperature extremes and mechanical failures. Broken furnaces and air conditioners both qualify.