To keep victims paying, Advance Fee fraudsters can get pretty creative.
Knowing that my father had borrowed heavily against his credit card to pay their phony fees, the crooks offered to pay off his balance (over $15,000) in exchange for $500 in cash, a proposition so absurd that even my impaired dad questioned it.
Anticipating pop's skepticism, the scammers cooked up the following charade, to make it look like they were making good on their ridiculous promise:
First, they obtained my dad's credit card number. Surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly, because my father was way over his limit), they did not make unauthorized charges on his account.
Second, they 'paid' my dad's bill by phone using the issuing bank's automated system, which asks for an account number, a routing number, and sometimes a check number. According to law enforcement officials, the withdrawal was made either on a bogus account, or without authorization from a legitimate account, such as the checking account of another scam victim.
Here's where it gets interesting: Transactions are posted to the credit card company's computer almost immediately, sometimes two, or even three days before the check is processed by the bank. This creates the illusion of payment when no money has, in fact, changed hands.
Not that most victims would know it. If the cardholder contacts the provider the day after the scammer 'pays their bill,' they will be told their balance is zero. The con men know the payment is a mirage, and pressure victims to send cash before it evaporates. In short: They use the float - the time it takes the check to bounce - to pick their pocket again.
Such are the lengths these Carribean dirtbags will go, to lend credibility to a scheme that any kid who's been offered a shiny new penny in exchange for a dirty old quarter, can see through.
Knowing that my father had borrowed heavily against his credit card to pay their phony fees, the crooks offered to pay off his balance (over $15,000) in exchange for $500 in cash, a proposition so absurd that even my impaired dad questioned it.
Anticipating pop's skepticism, the scammers cooked up the following charade, to make it look like they were making good on their ridiculous promise:
First, they obtained my dad's credit card number. Surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly, because my father was way over his limit), they did not make unauthorized charges on his account.
Second, they 'paid' my dad's bill by phone using the issuing bank's automated system, which asks for an account number, a routing number, and sometimes a check number. According to law enforcement officials, the withdrawal was made either on a bogus account, or without authorization from a legitimate account, such as the checking account of another scam victim.
Here's where it gets interesting: Transactions are posted to the credit card company's computer almost immediately, sometimes two, or even three days before the check is processed by the bank. This creates the illusion of payment when no money has, in fact, changed hands.
Not that most victims would know it. If the cardholder contacts the provider the day after the scammer 'pays their bill,' they will be told their balance is zero. The con men know the payment is a mirage, and pressure victims to send cash before it evaporates. In short: They use the float - the time it takes the check to bounce - to pick their pocket again.
Such are the lengths these Carribean dirtbags will go, to lend credibility to a scheme that any kid who's been offered a shiny new penny in exchange for a dirty old quarter, can see through.
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