Transformers: Robots in Disguise Episode Guide

Episode 36: Mistaken Identity
Original U.S. air date: March 2, 2002
Written by: Michael McConnohie

Scourge is still trying to gain control of Fortress Maximus, and now believes that capturing Koji, the Autobots' human friend, is what he needs. A first attempt to kidnap him after school is blocked by the car brothers, and when he reports back to Galvatron, Sky-Byte decides that capturing Koji himself is what he needs to regain Galvatron's favor.

Meanwhile, Koji is getting tired of having Autobot bodyguards everywhere he goes, and his best friend Carl is amazed at Koji's stories about controlling Maximus and adventuring with the Autobots. They decide to switch clothes before leaving school one day so Koji can get some time to himself, but Sky-Byte mistakes Carl for his target and takes him to Galvatron. They soon realize the error, but Scourge realizes that perhaps any human will do to control Maximus, not just Koji. When Movor reports from orbit that Maximus has resurfaced in the South American jungle, Scourge, Galvatron and Sky-Byte go there with Carl and Cerebros.

Once there, Scourge commands Carl to tell Maximus to activate and transform to robot mode. Carl is then taken by Maximus into the command module, and is excited at the power he has at his control. Now that Maximus/Carl is under his control, Scourge orders him to crush Galvatron and Sky-Byte, and Carl readily cooperates for a chance to help the Autobots. But Maximus fails, reporting a "frequency access error," and when the Autobots arrive via the global space bridge, Koji gets Carl to leave Maximus. Galvatron paralyzes Scourge for his betrayal and orders Sky-Byte to take him back to their headquarters.

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Galvatron is advertised with four new modes in addition to the six possessed by Megatron, despite the fact that the Megatron toy can transform into anything the Galvatron toy can. (In fact, one Japanese fan once created over a hundred distinct transformation modes for the toy, although most require a lot of imagination to identify them.) This episode demonstrated the first and last appearance of the "iron mammoth" mode, which uses Megatron's dragon tail/jet nosecone to form the trunk and the dragon/bat/jet wings to form the ears. It's pretty hideous even when you do get a good angle on it, which the episode never did.

It's not obvious at first that Galvatron has deliberately left Cerebros behind with the Autobots, apparently giving up on controlling Maximus after seeing that Scourge's best idea wasn't able to hurt even him.

My parents phoned on Friday evening.

General conversation, nothing unusual, then my mother says, apropos of nothing: “oh and you’re so funny – trying to wind us up like that!” I don’t know what she means, and I ask her, not particularly interested at first.

She says they had a message on their answering phone, from a journalist, who wants to speak to them about their daughter.

What?” I said – now I am listening properly. They had tried to call him back on the number he left, but didn’t get through. It takes a while to convince them that this is not a prank.

I am alarmed now; I ask them for the number. There is a tug of war over who will phone the journalist, but I am more insistent. When I call, the lady who answers tells me to phone again on Monday.

It is a long weekend. There is no-one else in the flat, I had nothing planned, and I silently reviewed my life for anything of journalistic interest. I once enjoyed a flirtation with a politician as a teenager, it didn’t come to anything: would that be it? But how would they have found out? Why would it be interesting? It was exciting for me at the time, but in the grand scheme of things, someone saying ‘the FTSE’ whilst holding my toes is not exactly headlines. Did they want material for an article on young women’s drinking habits? Then again, why me?

Monday comes. I tentatively dial the number. The journalist I speak to takes a moment to recognise my name, and then brightens.

Him: “You live in London!”
Me: “No, I live in xx”
Him: “You work as a model!”
Me (increasingly baffled): “No, I work in a bank”
Him: “You’re going out with xx” (famous celebrity)
Me: uncontrollable laughter.

I realise they have got the wrong person. I am highly entertained, until I realise that the tabloids have unwittingly reported this. People phone my parents and want to know if this is true, other people ask my friends.

I leave a bar one night the next week, and when my phone signal has returned, there is a message from someone wants to speak to me about it – from the Royal Mail. I wonder why on earth the Royal Mail would be interested in it? The postal service?

I later discover that it was a drunk friend pretending to be a journalist, a victim of malapropism, too inebriated to say ‘the Daily Mail’.

I wonder what the celebrity thought about this, if he read it; I have never trusted the papers since.

It’s 1975 or maybe 76 though it doesn’t really matter
Sixteen or seventeen years old with long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail ala Gregg Allman
Hanging out with my buddies on a street corner in Bay Ridge
A pint of Southern Comfort stashed away in my back pocket
A nickel or dime bag of weed tucked away in the front

The sound of screeching tires and the glare of flashing lights
A finger points from the back seat of the patrol car and a voice cries out “That’s him!”
Pushed up against the back of a car, handcuffed and searched
Taken for a ride to the station house and questioned over and over
Scared shitless and later chained to others much older than me to spend a night in “The Tombs”

Turn left, turn right and face forward and fingerprints and mug shots are taken
There's cold bologna sandwiches and piss warm Kool-Aid for dinner and little sleep
Powdered scrambled eggs and watery milk for breakfast and soon it’s time for arraignment court
The charges are assault, grand larceny and robbery and a plea of not guilty soon follows and bail is posted
My parents are in the courtroom and the disappointment is etched on their face for all to see
There’s nothing but silence at home and my explanations and insistence on innocence fall on deaf ears

They're already comparing me to someone else and I can’t say I blame them
But soon, the facts come out, I was home when the alleged crime took place
The charges are soon dropped and it was deemed a simple case of mistaken identity
(I actually knew the guy who did the crime, he never did wind up getting caught)
But the damage has already been done and I think they wonder to themselves if it’s only a matter of time.
It’s been close to forty years now and the sting has faded and even though my record was wiped clean
my memories haven't and in some strange way that I can't put my finger on,
somehow things haven’t been the same since.

I don't care how innocent you are or you think you might be
In some peoples eye's you'll always be guilty of something, maybe even in your own
It’s funny how one or two events can really shape a lifetime
I guess you either get over them or learn to live with them
Or a little of both.
How's that for some shit?

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