The University of Michigan ran one of those “this’ll be funny in 100 years” stories in its student newspaper in 1931. Its reporting was a bit convoluted, but these seem to be the facts of the case:

Saturday, May 30, Ann Arbor, MI. Lawrence had just completed his freshman year and may have had a mind to celebrate. That night, his landlord called the police to report “a drinking party in progress.” Several officers entered the premises and discovered half a pint of whiskey - a flagrant violation of the United States Constitution’s 18th Amendment! The constables duly arrested everyone present at the soirée: both Lawrence and his roommate James L. Slocum.

The pair landed in the clink, under interrogation to track down the source of the bootleg hooch. One of the two offered a telephone number and claimed not to know the scoundrel’s name. Subsequently the police learned they’d been had; the number turned up false. They released the freshmen nonetheless, ordering them to appear in court Monday morning.

Lawrence and James didn’t show and found themselves arrested again later that evening. They were held for 24 hours, unable to communicate or receive visitors. When a source unidentified in the account posted $500 bail Tuesday night, the police released them with a court date the following week. In the meantime, using information from the two freshmen, they arrested a man calling himself Frank Smith at his home in Scio township, catching him in the act of destroying a supply of alcohol. (He later confessed his true name, Frank Scharr.)

Presumably, Lawrence made sure to face the music the second time. No additional arrest reports have so far turned up.

The incident was decidedly NOT funny at the time. His father, the strict prohibitionist Lutheran minister back home, had passed away in 1928 when his oldest brother Paul assumed the role. His brother Bert was a junior at University of Michigan and may have helped secure bail; brother George and sister Judith were alumni. Lawrence would've been keenly aware of the shame and embarrassment he’d brought to his no-nonsense family. His professors too would've judged him a disappointment. Perhaps most stinging of all, his peers would've thought him a rat, a stool-pigeon.

This would be nothing more than a quaint anecdote but for the volumes of highly classified information Lieutenant (j.g.) Heideman carried in his head as he stormed the Normandy beach. He had plenty of time to contemplate capture and interrogation by the Germans. The episode would've played over and over in his mind; how could it not? What lessons had he learned in retrospect from the full consequences of his arrest? How much worse would the Nazis inflict on him, and how much more was at stake now?

Sources

“Student Liquor Law Violators Seized in Raid.” The Michigan Daily, June 3, 1931.

“Liquor Law Offender Awaiting Court Trial.” The Michigan Daily, June 4, 1931.

Heideman, Lawrence Leopold. U-M Alumni files. Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan.

Heideman, Lawrence Leopold Lionel