a woman with red docs on her face and phone on a light purple backgroun with a threatening aura
Image: Tina Tiller

InternetSeptember 16, 2023

I was sucked into a romantic scam and it broke my heart

a woman with red docs on her face and phone on a light purple backgroun with a threatening aura
Image: Tina Tiller

We know romantic scammers swindle thousands of dollars from victims, but the heavy emotional toll receives less attention. Alison Cutler, a recent scamming victim, tells her story.

It all started innocently enough – well, if you are as innocent as me, it did. I received a friend request on Facebook Messenger, ignored it for weeks, then, curiosity piqued in an idle moment, I clicked on the request.  I am not exactly flooded with requests for anything online other than eminently resistible offers from weight loss companies, so I did what I considered a thorough investigation: I checked out his profile, saw he was rather handsome, with photos of him in theatre scrubs and skiing. I accepted his friend request.

I heard nothing and thought no more about it. After all, I lead a busy life full to the brim with—with what? Work and friends and lots of free time. I’m a widow in my mid-sixties, single for over 20 years. Twenty years of tables set for one, no romantic assignations other than with my geriatric cat, an orgasm-free zone, the centre of no one’s life, no flowers, no chocolates. I told myself I was happy.

Late one night, tucked up in bed with my electric blanket at volcanic levels, my Messenger app pinged. Instantly roused, I opened the message.

 “Hi Alison,” it read. “How are you?”

I have never been in the habit of responding to complete strangers online – I’ve read all the warnings – but in that moment I was flattered that someone had taken the trouble to choose me from the millions of faces online, and cared about how I was doing.  I said I was fine but asked who he was, and he said he had seen my profile and was interested in friendship. The possibility of a new relationship, especially as I had so few friends here after fifty years overseas, was enough for me to abandon my native caution. 

He told me he was an orthopaedic surgeon working for the UN in Yemen; a widow who lost his wife to leukaemia with a son at boarding school in the UK. He was lonely and just wanted to find a friend. I thought his story was credible and interesting, and I was impressed by his emotional openness. I sensed a vulnerable fellow traveller. 

He insisted I download the Google Chat app and I obliged. The conversation had me in its thrall from the get-go. He said he thought I was beautiful, couldn’t wait to kiss my lips and longed for a time when he could wake up next to me. Suddenly a friendship had turned into a full-blown romance. The compliments fell thick and fast and I was in seventh heaven. This handsome, successful man found me attractive. He wanted to have a relationship with me.  He already considered me the most interesting, intelligent woman he’d ever met. 

When I look back at the pleasure I took from these transparently ridiculous compliments, I blush to the roots of my thinning, grey hair.  

I was beside myself with happiness; in a state of trembling anticipation like a fresh-faced young girl on her first date. I would wait impatiently for the seductive ping of his messages, and he could message for England. He asked lots of questions, went from “dear” to “darling” to “sweetheart” in no time, and said he would teach me to dance. When he said he couldn’t wait for his son Harry to meet me, I took this as a sign of deep parental love.

The messages flew back and forth, each more florid than the last. Within a couple of days I had convinced myself, with no difficulty or hesitation, that paradise was within reach. And I was consumed. I neglected my work, forgot to eat, and lived for the next ping. I revealed my secrets such as they were, giving him copious details about my life and laying myself open like a lamb to the slaughter – or an ageing ewe to the abattoir. 

It all seems so ridiculous with the wisdom of hindsight. There were more red flags than a Soviet rally. His name was curious, and he wouldn’t agree to a video or audio chat (the internet in Yemen “made this impossible”), and he was curiously ignorant about Western culture. His responses were often unrelated to what I asked, but I was too punch-drunk with love to see this as evasiveness. Confirmation bias combined with my head-over-heels state make every red flag disappear.

One evening as we chatted lovingly, he suddenly asked if I would mind purchasing an Apple Gift card so he could top up his internet. I didn’t baulk, particularly as I couldn’t bear to stop messaging. It was well after midnight, but I said I would go and buy one immediately. He said he was much obliged, and could I do it straight away as he didn’t want to lose the connection. Also, would I mind getting the $500 card rather than the $200 one?

It was as if I’d taken part in an ice-bucket challenge. I suddenly remembered all the warnings I had read, those cautionary tales of men and women taken to the cleaners, tales I dismissed as the preserve of the foolish, the gullible, the desperate.

I told him my doubts immediately and asked for proof of identity, none of which he could provide. You can imagine the protestations and the appeals to our undying love. I did a quick search for his name, location and occupation – why had I not done this earlier? Sickeningly and immediately, there were sites galore alerting the unwary to this common romance scam.  

I was stung, in physical and emotional pain as I realised I’d fallen victim to a textbook scam.

I blocked and reported him on Messenger and Google Chat and notified NetSafe. When he sent me an email vowing to murder me in my bed, I reported him to the police. These actions were easy. What wasn’t easy was being jerked out of the heady state of being in love; the realisation that I’d succumbed so easily and wholeheartedly to the transparent deceit of a stranger. 

I realise now I was lying to myself for a long time, hiding my loneliness beneath a veneer of self-reliance. That served me well as I raised three children after the death of my husband, but I write these words now shaken by my complete gullibility.

Today I received an email from the scammer. It reads: “My love, I miss you 💔💔💔”

My response? Silence.

‘Help keep The Spinoff funny, smart, tall and handsome – become a member today.’
Gabi Lardies
— Staff writer
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a person swpinging on a trapeze twards some money on a fishing hook
(Image: Archi Banal)

InternetSeptember 4, 2023

Who should take the fall for online scams?

a person swpinging on a trapeze twards some money on a fishing hook
(Image: Archi Banal)

Scamming is everywhere. It isn’t just a problem for targeted individuals: it’s an urgent issue of public trust.

“Two hundred million dollars goes out the door each year, and that’s a gross underestimate,” says Jon Duffy, CEO of Consumer New Zealand. “There are people in New Zealand losing money right now.” 

He’s right: hardly a week goes by in New Zealand without a headline about some digital swindle, outrageous and elaborate or simple and mundane. Scammers are pretending to be Waka Kotahi. They’re pretending to be a child with a lost phone. They’re investment advisers with the deal of a lifetime. They’re banks, prompting you to ignore alerts about unauthorised spending.

CERT NZ, the unit of MBIE dedicated to cybersecurity, collects reports of scams, and has definitely seen an uptick. Senior threat analyst Sam Leggett says more people are falling victim to scams, and there are more scams in general. Getting accurate data is difficult, though, as many people don’t report scams, because they’re ashamed of being swindled or because they weren’t aware there was a way to report them at all.

What is being done about scams? The focus is often individual, teaching people to be more sceptical of being contacted at all. If CERT receives enough reports of a particular scam, they’ll issue an alert, as they did recently for the text messages purporting to be from someone who’s lost their phone and needs money for a new one. They try to spread the knowledge, working with community groups to educate people about scams. This makes known scams less effective, but it doesn’t stop new ones coming. In response to this education, the scams keep evolving: the wording changes, the institutions being imitated alter. 

a graph showing an increase inscamming from 2019 to 2022
The most recent data shows a clear rise in reported scams (Data/chart: CERT NZ)

Throughout our interview, Leggett repeats his advice for not being scammed, and there are good tips. Reputable texts will come from shortcode numbers (four digits) as they will be using a sending service. Ask a suspicious caller questions that they would only know the answer to if they were from the service they say they’re from. Don’t trust easily. 

There are institutional responses to scamming too. On The Detail, host Sharon Brett-Kelly got a glimpse of the fraud unit at BNZ, but her report didn’t include much detail about the action they’re taking, as professional scammers could use the information to get around blocks on their activity. As for banks themselves, they are meeting every fortnight at the moment to discuss their collective response to scams. If a particular institution is being impersonated, as with the Citibank or Waka Kotahi scams, then that organisation can reach out to its clients, asking them not to trust unsolicited messages from people claiming to be employees. 

Scammers are usually based overseas, beyond the jurisdiction of the New Zealand police. There’s an entire YouTube subgenre devoted to revealing the mundane office blocks on the outskirts of big cities where scammers work. For many people, scamming is just a job. Taken in sum, the amounts of money stolen by scamming are staggering, but on an individual level, in the realm of international heists, the losses are small. Fifty dollars here, $300 here, $200,000 there. Devastating for individuals, but if you don’t know who took your money, and neither do the police or your bank, then there’s very little you can do.

But New Zealand is hardly unique in being targeted by scams, and responses could certainly go further. The banks in the UK have just signed up to a model of compensation where they will pay back customers who are defrauded from 2024. (There are certain conditions; if the bank warns you that you’re being scammed and you transfer money anyway, they’re off the hook). This adds an urgent financial incentive for banks to respond effectively to scams. 

pakekha man with curly redish hair and a beard wearing black rimmed glasses and a black suit on a brey curtain background
Consumer’s Jon Duffy thinks that people have a responsibility to be skeptical, but banks need to do more to protect from fraud too (Image: supplied)

New Zealand currently has provisions for compensations if someone else has accessed your account or credit card without your permission, but if you give your details to someone who is tricking you into thinking you can trust them, the banks may not compensate you if they decided you didn’t act with “reasonable care”. New Zealand Banks Association chief executive Roger Beaumont has said that following the UK’s example would mean customers would have no incentive to protect their money. Is that fair?

“It’s a question of the ambulance at the bottom of the cliff or the fence at the top,” says Jon Duffy of Consumer. His organisation is regularly in contact with people who have lost huge amounts of money, and Duffy is an advocate for open banking – making it easier for consumers to control their financial information and switch providers if needed. “The New Zealand banking sector should have a look at their cuzzies in England.”

Another helpful model used overseas is the “total impact of fraud”, which assesses the way that having fraud everywhere doesn’t simply hurt individuals, but damages the trust that businesses and the public sector need to function effectively. Consumer’s surveying, incidentally, has found that trust in banks is plummeting in Aotearoa. Why, then, is the response to scams usually focused on educating us as individuals?

“You need to be mindful of digital security, as if it was a house,” says Leggett. “You don’t want to leave your windows open and unlocked, you lock the door when you leave, you might install an alarm system. Using good passwords, being mindful of the data you make accessible on social media, installing two factor authentication on important accounts is sort of similar – our lives are so entangled with the digital world.”

While this kind of defence is obviously one kind of deterrent, is there any point in focusing on getting really good at installing deadbolts if the thieves roaming the neighbourhood have moved on from doors and are now trying to pry open your skylight? There are more and more resources like this to learn about scamming – awareness of scamming in general, if not of specific tactics, is high, not least because nine in 10 New Zealanders have been targeted by a scam in the last year. CERT NZ’s work is preventing people from being taken in by scams: it’s just that new threats are constantly emerging. 

youngish man with pale skin, short brown hair, a blue jacket open to a white tshirt
Sam Leggett from CERT NZ is at the front line of responding to scams (image: supplied)

The “total impact” model points out that preventing fraud from taking place is a much more efficient use of resources than trying to reimburse people and regain trust after the fact. Individuals have a responsibility to be sceptical, but so do the services around them that scammers use to steal money and trust. 

Trust is something valuable, and scamming erodes it. Trust makes it possible to wander onto trains in New Zealand without having to go through an x-ray scanner, as often happens overseas. Trust makes it possible for me to send my sister money via a banking app and trust that it will arrive; to answer a security question about my first pet on my RealMe and trust that the government service I’m accessing is keeping that information secure. It’s this trust that scammers exploit. If you trust the messages that come from your phone and computer, even if they are simply strings of ones and zeros floating through radio waves towards you, then it’s much easier to trust more of the digital communications you receive, legitimate or not. 

hand above a phone showing a safety alert
Scams make it harder to trust each other (Photo: Getty Images)

And when scamming is everywhere, everyone is affected. “Scams are really, really bad for business,” Duffy points out. “Scams take millions of dollars out of our economy while we’re wanting to increase our exports.”

The sole focus on the individual is problematic, he says. “You can get educated about a scam and then it changes the next day – there’s an element of victim blaming that irks me.” If it’s an individual’s responsibility to be sceptical of people contacting them, then if that individual gets scammed it’s their own fault. Duffy suggests that the burden of scams could afford to fall a little more on banks, whose record profits are currently subject to a Commerce Commission inquiry. 

“Banks have benefitted massively from the shift to digital services,” Duffy says. “They’ve closed branch offices. They’ve done away with cheques. Everyone has the app on their phone, and their costs of administering have gone down.” Plus, outsourcing work like help centres adds to the security vulnerability: once customers get used to solving banking problems with the help of people on the other side of the world, a scammer has an in.

a hand overing over a phone cartoon with questionmarks
Romance scams are especially insidious Image: Tina Tiller

Asking questions about how to trust in a moment when scamming has never been easier and more prevalent is urgent – especially because technology coming down the line could make scamming even more widespread. Generative AI technology is an obvious example, with its ability to create more convincing personas and storylines. Other digital security concerns can contribute: with access to information from data breaches – text, videos, voices and pictures that seem like people you know – scammers can be that much more convincing, and make it that much harder to trust legitimate communication.

In a world where scams are everywhere, we’re all vulnerable, no matter how many reports we file to CERT NZ. I feel like I’m digitally savvy now, able to avoid obvious fraudulence. A few months ago, I got a message from a friend who I hadn’t heard from for years, asking me, “What’s your email address.” Blank words, unexpected communication; I was leery of a scam. “What do you need it for?” I asked, cautious. “I want to send some photos of my new baby to friends off of social media,” she replied, giving me an update on other aspects of her life, how her house build was going. I felt bad for not trusting her initially, but isn’t that what digital communication – and scams, scams everywhere – has taught me to expect? 

Scams get more sophisticated all the time: that’s why it’s easy to get taken in, no matter how educated we are, how many tactics we learn. If we want a future where it’s possible to keep trusting – and I really do – I know I need to be suspicious of texts and calls and messages now. I also want responses to scamming that go far beyond my responsibility as an individual.