I was the victim of a scam caller. I can't believe I fell for it

Miriam Edelson was the victim of a scam caller and lost $7,500. (Ben Shannon/CBC)This First Person piece was written by Miriam Edelson, who lives in Toronto. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.I've never told anyone this story because of the shame I feel. Only my partner knows.One afternoon, the telephone rang. It was a dreary fall day and I was alone in the house. The caller seemed to have a great deal of information about me. In an authoritative voice he said he knew there had been a fraudulent charge recently on my VISA credit card and that I was retired. He revealed that there was some problem with my social insurance number: criminals had gotten a hold of it and my identity was seriously compromised. I tried to ask questions, but he was insistent. To fix matters, he said, I needed to deposit $1,500 in the Bitcoin machine at a convenience store. I had heard of Bitcoin but knew nothing about such a machine.His voice projected immense urgency an

A person who loves writing, loves novels, and loves life.Seeking objective truth, hoping for world peace, and wishing for a world without wars.
I was the victim of a scam caller. I can't believe I fell for it
An illustration of a panicked woman holding a debit card on the right side. On the left side, a man with a headset types on a keyboard while looking at a computer screen.
Miriam Edelson was the victim of a scam caller and lost $7,500. (Ben Shannon/CBC)

This First Person piece was written by Miriam Edelson, who lives in Toronto. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

I've never told anyone this story because of the shame I feel. Only my partner knows.

One afternoon, the telephone rang. It was a dreary fall day and I was alone in the house. The caller seemed to have a great deal of information about me. In an authoritative voice he said he knew there had been a fraudulent charge recently on my VISA credit card and that I was retired. He revealed that there was some problem with my social insurance number: criminals had gotten a hold of it and my identity was seriously compromised. 

I tried to ask questions, but he was insistent. To fix matters, he said, I needed to deposit $1,500 in the Bitcoin machine at a convenience store. I had heard of Bitcoin but knew nothing about such a machine.

His voice projected immense urgency and he warned me not to tell anyone about our conversation. Not even my partner, who happened to arrive home just as I was scurrying out the door on my mission. He asked where I was headed but I wouldn't stop nor give him any details. I was scared to spill the beans — the man on the telephone had been so insistent about the need for secrecy. 

I pulled over at an ATM machine not far from my home and withdrew the money. I then drove to the location of the convenience store in another neighbourhood and asked the clerk where I could find the Bitcoin machine. Hands shaking, I figured out how to feed the $100 bills into the machine.

Back in my car a few minutes later, I received another phone call from the man. He said he needed $6,000 more to be deposited into the Bitcoin machine at the same venue. I questioned him, not having entirely lost my wits, and he again made it sound like a "life or death" situation. This was the only way out. 

So I went to my bank where I was given the money in cash, no questions asked. I drove back to the convenience store and fed the mound of bills into the Bitcoin machine. I felt numb.

I returned to my car and the man called me again. He told me to go home and tell no one. He said that he'd bring a reimbursement and a new social insurance card to my home the next day.

By this time, I was completely frazzled. When I got home, I told my partner what was happening. He was incredulous at first and then livid that I hadn't told him because he would have stopped me from making even the first deposit. He told me it was a scam and that the money was gone — nobody would be bringing a reimbursement. I started to cry and felt quite embarrassed. Deeply ashamed.

That afternoon I reported these activities to the police, giving them as much information as I could. They said this was a common scam among thieves and that the same criminals might try to get more money out of me in the next several months, now that they knew I had fallen for this one.

I reported the incident to my bank and made arrangements at the branch for them to question me if I tried to withdraw that amount of cash ever again. They also told me to register with consumer credit reporting agencies as a way to monitor further suspicious activity. Everyone I spoke to seemed to think I got off lightly in terms of the amount lost. But it didn't feel that way to me. I am a writer living on a fixed income and this scam took a significant chunk from my savings.

A police detective did follow up with me once to get more information but nothing ever came of it. I still regularly receive several fraudulent emails and texts, which I erase, and now only answer the phone if I recognize the number. I can no longer be the trusting individual I was.

Two years later, I just shake my head. I must have been incredibly vulnerable to have fallen for the man's frightening but very compelling pitch. How could I have believed such malarkey?

In reality, when the call came, I'd been smack dab in the middle of a brutal anxiety and depression episode, and evidently not functioning with a full deck. But there's a lesson here. Scams can happen to anyone and the shame one feels does nothing to stop the scam artists from winning. That's why I choose to share what happened to me.


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