Frank Abagnale - The Art of the Steal

It was not an original thought. Many investment schemes tell people there’s a secret banking system in which “prime banks” and the wealthy participate. The returns are well beyond what ordinary people can realize, as much as 70 percent a week. Ordinary people can share in the bounty if they pool their money and allow someone connected to this system to invest it for them.

A common pitch is, you’re asked to put money into a trust account backed by a guarantee (often fake) from a “prime bank,” “top-100 world bank,” or “top-25 European bank.” You’re told that your money will be leveraged to buy prime bank instruments, which can generate enormous returns. In fact, your money goes offshore, never to return. Another pitch: You pay the promoter a fee in return for a promise that you will be “leased” a much larger sum of money to invest in prime bank instruments at great interest rates.

In the Omega trust, investors were told their capital would be invested in foreign bank debentures. Money was invested from all over the country, as well as from Australia and China. The mastermind of the scheme laundered the money by handing out interest-free loans to local residents and by starting businesses.

There is no such thing as bank debentures. No secret banking system exists, at least not on this planet.

One of the giveaways in Mattoon was when residents began buying new trucks and cars and opening businesses, even though some of them had jobs that paid minimum wage. In the fall of 2000, law enforcement authorities charged a group of Mattoon residents and others with perpetrating an investment scheme that duped more than ten thousand people throughout the world of more than $12.5 million.

RED FLAGS

Obviously, you just can’t be too careful with your money. Before you part with it, look at all investments on the SEC database to be sure they’re registered. All American companies with more than five hundred investors and $10 million in assets must be registered with the SEC. Smaller companies have to file information with the SEC, or with the state securities regulators where they’re based. To check if a broker is licensed, go to the website of the National Association of Securities Dealers Regulation. One thing the Internet has done is made it easier to do research on a company, so go to reliable sites and check analyst reports. There’s no need to rush into something.

I would never invest in anything described as “risk-free” or “guaranteed,” particularly offshore investments. It’s an automatic red flag if the promoters say the state Attorney General has approved it. Check with the Attorney General’s office and find out for yourself. Take note of how you’re asked to pay. If a broker wants your bank account number to speed things along, forget it. If you’re told to send money to a P.O. Box or someplace offshore, forget that, too.

The bigger the promised return on an investment, the higher the likelihood that it’s a scam. But just because a return is reasonable, don’t assume the investment is real. One of the biggest scams in recent years is fraudulent promissory notes sold to the elderly. Promissory notes are a short-term debt companies use to borrow cash. Con artists exploit a loophole in securities laws that exempt some nine-month promissory notes from regulatory scrutiny. The con artist starts a marketing firm and recruits unwitting insurance agents to sell the notes. Unlike so many investment schemes with their 100-percent-plus returns, these typically promise 9 to 12 percent interest, enough to attract a conservative investor without arousing suspicion. They’re touted as risk free and bonded by foreign insurance companies, which usually are fake. The local agents are often known and trusted by the investors, and are fooled as well by the con artists. Eventually, investors get notices that the company behind the notes has gone bankrupt and that’s the end of their investment.

A good rule of thumb is, the more exclusive something is positioned to be, the more likely it’s trouble. Once-in-a-lifetime opportunities are usually once-in-a-lifetime chances to lose all your savings. If something is billed as getting “imminent” regulatory approval, that means it will never get regulatory approval. When I see ads on television promoting some new elixir or wonderful product, the words that always tell me it’s a scam are “not sold in stores.” Think about it, if someone has a great product, why wouldn’t he sell it in stores? The reason is because there’s something fishy about it.

It’s the same with investments. When I hear about an investment opportunity and am told it’s not available through brokerage houses, then that’s criminal-speak for “only available through con artists.” If you really could make 100 percent on your money in a week, you wouldn’t need to find out about it in an e-mail from a total stranger. You can bet Merrill Lynch and Paine Webber would be selling it, too.

11

[STEALING YOUR SOUL]

For Michelle Brown, there was life before identity theft and then there was life after identity theft. Life after was a torment.

Brown, the young California woman I began this book with, couldn’t understand why someone had stolen her identity. Why her, of all people? And how did it happen? One day she told her property manager about how someone was going around using her name and her credit, and that the police and credit bureaus had mentioned that identity thieves are sometimes a relative or someone you know. Did she have sisters who might have something against her, a close friend with a grudge? She had been offended. She had two sisters, but she knew neither of them was the one, and no friend was that malevolent.

Her property manager listened to her carefully, and then he said, “I know who’s doing it.”

Or he thought he did. A woman he knew vaguely, Heddi Ille, had a history of committing credit fraud. He figured it might well be she.

The police looked into it, and they concluded that it was indeed she. Heddi Ille was a woman in her early thirties, about five-foot-seven and weighing 200 pounds. She looked nothing like Michelle Brown. And she was mixed up with drugs. For months, the police pursued her, but it wasn’t until more than a year after she had stolen Michelle Brown’s identity that she was caught, and then it was only because someone had turned her in. To add to the insult, Ille was arrested under the name Michelle Brown. On her record, that name was listed as an alias.

Heddi Ille had never met Michelle Brown, and knew virtually nothing about her. Like most crooks, she had wanted one thing: a vehicle that allowed her to steal. One day, she had happened to sneak a look at the rental applications at the apartment complex where Michelle Brown was living, and had chosen her information to work with. She was a similar age, and that may have been all that mattered. That one document was all it took.

In their arrogance, thieves rarely consider the consequences for the victim. They’re in it strictly for the money. For a long time, Michelle Brown wondered if she would ever become whole again. It required a massive effort for her to get her credit straightened out. “Identity theft leaves a very dark and filthy cloud around the victim,” she said. Even now, she is extremely circumspect. She has eliminated all but one credit card. She refuses to write checks when she buys something in a store. She worries that her name will be on a list of delinquents and she’ll be hustled off by security guards. Her mail comes to a private mailbox. For her birthday, a friend gave her a shredder, and she now shreds all credit card solicitations and any other material containing personal information.

She carries around official papers that confirm who she is, though she’s afraid to travel overseas, particularly to any third-world country, out of fear she’ll be mistaken for the jailed Ille and be imprisoned. Even in this country, she shudders every time she sees a police car. She drives safely under the speed limit and never forgets to signal if she’s making a turn. The last thing she wants is to be stopped and somehow mistaken for the other Michelle Brown, the one who ought to be in prison.