Just when you think scam victims can't get any lower, you find they've sunken so far that they have to reach up to touch bottom. Such is case with my father, who is now laundering money for the scum who cleaned him out. It's official: My dad is a Money Mule.
Can I get a hee-haw?
His new role was exposed recently when I visited my mother on a rare day off. As luck would have it, I was present to sign for a suspicious Express Mail envelope addressed to my dad, who was gone at the time. I immediately excused myself and took the parcel straight to the nearest postal inspector.
My suspicions were confirmed when the agent opened the envelope and found cash, which to no one's surprise came from another scam victim.
Outraged by my interference, my father insisted that I give the money back on the grounds that it was rightfully his. Why? Because the crooks promised him that if he did them this one last favor (receive funds from other dupes and wire them to Jamaica), they would deliver the package containing his winnings. Never mind that similar commitments were made and always broken. Never mind that the dough wasn't his, that its rightful owner was a single mother running a day care center out of her home.
By my math that makes over 130 "last favors" my dad has done for the fraudsters, and one would think such generosity would have been reciprocated by now. It hasn't, of course, because altruism is one of many weaknesses exploited by the vermin running this game.
As for the cash: The USPS returned it to its rightful owner and put my father on a Mail Watch. Word has it that other envelopes were intercepted, and their contents returned to the sender.
Score one for the cat, who awaits the mouse's next move.