I first realized the existence of the other Moises Mendoza while I was attending Georgetown University a few years ago.

One day a student working at my college newspaper gingerly approached me.

“I don't think you're him, but I have to ask, were you ever in prison in Texas?” she asked.

Let's get this out of the way. I'm not on death row. Stop with the e-mails, the dirty looks and the questions. I'm not Moises Sandoval Mendoza. I'm a different Moises Mendoza — a law-abiding one. Yes, we're both 25 and we even (sort-of) look the same. But I promise you, I'm Moises David Mendoza, so leave me alone.

In the world of the Internet it's getting tougher for me to escape Moises Sandoval Mendoza's shadow.

• • •

I have a problem. I'm a journalist so people search for me online all the time — sources, readers and even my friends. But when someone Googles my name, bad things always pop up.

“Moises Mendoza is where he belongs. He does not deserve a reprieve,” says the first link.

“Moises Mendoza — Texas Death Row Inmate,” says the next.

The third: “Moises Mendoza is one of the most violent, sadistic men I have ever encountered, and this death penalty is totally justified.”

Directly below that link appear two pictures of me right next to a bald-headed photo of Moises Sandoval Mendoza.

The man is a vicious killer whose birthday happens to be 15 days away from mine. He murdered a woman in North Texas in 2004 by strangling her. Then, he burned her body.

I know these details because after I started to get bombarded with questions about whether I was a killer who had been released from prison, I started to look into his story.

Somehow, by virtue of our names and the weirdness of technology, I feel a reverse kinship with him. I badly want to separate myself from Moises Sandoval Mendoza but I know, no matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to completely do it.

• • •

It's not like people recoil in fear from me every single day. But the questions do arise on a regular basis.

They might come from a source who's trying to be funny: “You know, I did some research on you and did you realize there's someone on death row with the same name as you?”

I just say yes and move on to the next topic.

Once, a bank teller Googled me as I was opening an account. She hurriedly walked away to get a manager. You look vaguely like Moises Sandoval Mendoza, he pointed out. Should I be in prison? A brief discussion resolved everything.

But the most annoying thing is receiving occasionally angry e-mails.

I remember one that called me a “stupid killer” and said I should rot with the devil.

I shook my head as I replied that I had never killed anyone in my life, although with all the silly things I've done, maybe I am destined for hell.

Luckily I haven't gotten an angry phone call yet, but I'm always half expecting one.

I think those who accuse me of murder haven't done their research, so I don't take their anger personally.

But the confusion does get annoying. And one day, a few years ago, I decided to do something about it.

I resolved to change my byline on stories to Moises D. Mendoza. That way, people would see my middle initial was different from the killer, I reasoned.

It made no difference. I still got the e-mails.

And, I decided, it was stupid to allow Moises Sandoval Mendoza to somehow influence how I lived my life. Six months later, I changed my byline back to Moises Mendoza.

Two months ago, I had an epiphany. Perhaps if I met Moises Sandoval Mendoza, if I could talk to this person who's had this strange influence on my life, perhaps I could resolve my lingering frustration with him.

I sent an e-mail to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice and I later got a reply. Moises Sandoval Mendoza declined my request.

The rejection was for the best, I've decided. It's not my fault a killer has my name and it would do me no good to enmesh myself further with his story.

In a way, his rejection has freed me. I never have to meet him or see him face to face. I can just keep explaining that I'm not Moises Sandoval Mendoza.

Mendoza is a reporter for the Houston Chronicle. Reach him at moises.mendoza@chron.com .