The credit card offers arriving in the mail for Jeff Kirkwold were the first clue that something was amiss.

Then came a generic letter from Equifax, the giant credit bureau, informing Kirkwold that he was one of the 145 million customers whose personal information had been hacked in a massive data breach last year.

Problem was, when the letter arrived in October, Kirkwold had been dead for nearly four years. The Minnesota National Guard veteran, who served tours of duty in Kosovo and Kuwait, died unexpectedly in 2013 of a stroke at age 34.

Now his mother, Sue Kirkwold, a retired dairy farmer from Starbuck, Minn., fears her late son’s identity may have been stolen by fraud artists. To make matters worse, Equifax has offered her no help in finding out why his personal data is still floating around in the credit bureau’s system.

“This is not right,” Sue Kirkwold said. “We did everything we were told to do. We sent a copy of the death certificate to the three big credit agencies [Equifax, Experian and TransUnion]. We had them put ‘Deceased — do not issue credit’ on his name. Now they’re saying that after he died, his identity could be at risk for fraud.”

Equifax officials did not return calls and e-mails seeking comment.

Identity theft isn’t unusual. As many as 17 million Americans a year are victimized, usually through fraudulent use of their credit cards or bank accounts. But identity theft of a dead person — that’s a different story.

“Our people really don’t run across this,” said Ben Wogsland, a spokesman for Minnesota Attorney General Lori Swanson.

Sue Kirkwold wants to be clear: She’s not at risk from this. Her own finances won’t be affected by any fraud someone might pull with her son’s identity.

But as a mother, she’s offended that her son’s good name could be at risk. And she knows that, if he were here, Jeff wouldn’t stand for it, either.

“I used to listen to him when he was on the phone with AT&T or Verizon,” she said. “Jeff would bug the hell out of them until he got an answer. I’d always say, ‘I wouldn’t want to cross him.’

“He was somebody that would always say, ‘Mom, make sure it’s right.’ So I’m doing it for him.”

Immediately after the letter about a possible data breach arrived, Sue Kirkwold called Equifax.

“I got no satisfaction,” she said. Then she filed a complaint with Swanson’s office. That prompted a letter from Equifax — apologizing not for breaching Jeff Kirkwold’s privacy, but his mother’s.

That made Sue Kirkwold even madder.

“Are these guys above the law?” she asked. “There just doesn’t seem to be any accountability for these big corporations. You just get buried under their generic letters.”

Jeff Kirkwold joined the National Guard immediately after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, his mother said. He rose to the rank of lieutenant, but resigned his commission and rejoined as an enlisted man.

“He just didn’t like people saluting him and calling him ‘sir,’ ” she said.

A fitness fanatic, Jeff Kirkwold ran eight miles a day and biked 20 more. He was an avid hunter, yet would regularly stop his truck to help turtles cross the road. He also devoted himself to helping veterans struggling with suicidal thoughts, often driving all night to sit with a troubled vet.

When he died, he was enrolled at the University of Minnesota-Morris with plans to become a social studies teacher.

Despite the lack of response from Equifax, Sue Kirkwold said she’s not going to let the corporate bureaucracy beat her.

“Somebody’s got to shake them up,” she said. “Somebody’s got to rattle their cage.”