A Family Member’s Scam Victim Story #83

I’m Emmy, a 38-year-old writer living in Chicago, Illinois, and I’m absolutely furious as I tell you how a romance scam on a dating site called Dream Singles took my dad, Brian, for everything he had, stealing $95,000 and breaking his heart. I watched my smart, accomplished father fall for women who didn’t exist, and I’m still seething with anger at how they turned him into a shell of the man he used to be, leaving me helpless to save him from his own desperation.

It all started after my mom passed away, a time when my dad, a 72-year-old retired professor, felt lonelier than ever. We lived in Evanston, Illinois, just north of Chicago, in a cozy house filled with memories of my mom’s laughter. Dad had always been a brilliant man, teaching literature at a university for decades, but her death left a void he couldn’t fill. I noticed him withdrawing, spending hours alone in his study, his eyes distant as he stared at old photos. One evening, I found him on his laptop, his face lit up with a smile I hadn’t seen in years, typing away on that dating site. I felt a flicker of hope, thinking he might find companionship, but I had no idea how dangerous that site would become.

Dad told me about the women he met online, his voice brimming with excitement as he described their messages, their beauty, their promises of love. He said they were from all over the world, each one claiming to be his perfect match, and I listened, my heart sinking as I realized how deeply he believed in them. I watched him fall in love over and over, his fingers eagerly typing replies to women named Anna, Svetlana, and Maria, each one professing their devotion after just a few chats. I tried to warn him, my voice sharp as I pointed out how quickly they moved, how their stories sounded too perfect, but he brushed me off, his eyes sparkling with hope, saying I didn’t understand true love.

I discovered the truth one afternoon while helping him with his taxes, my stomach twisting as I saw his bank statements, transactions totaling $95,000 sent to accounts overseas. I confronted him, my anger flaring as I demanded to know who he was sending money to, my voice rising with each question. He admitted he sent the funds to his online girlfriends, his face flushing with embarrassment as he explained their sob stories: one needed money for a plane ticket to visit him, another for her sick mother’s hospital bills, and yet another for a visa to start a new life with him in the U.S. I felt my blood boil, my fists clenching as I realized these women were scamming him, exploiting his loneliness for cash, and he couldn’t see it.

I tried to convince him they weren’t real, my words sharp and urgent as I showed him articles about romance scams, my laptop screen glowing with warnings about fake profiles on dating sites. I pointed out inconsistencies in their messages, how they avoided video calls, how their photos looked too polished, but he refused to listen, his voice rising with defiance as he insisted they loved him. I watched him send more money, my heart breaking as I saw his savings dwindle, my anger growing with each transaction he made to women who didn’t exist. I felt powerless, my dad slipping further into their trap, his once-sharp mind clouded by the promise of love.

The aftermath left me reeling, my anger a constant fire in my chest as I watched my dad become a living ghost, a shadow of the man I once knew. He stopped leaving the house, his days spent in his study, staring at his computer screen, waiting for messages that never came. I found him crying one morning, his hands trembling as he clutched a printed photo of “Anna,” his voice breaking as he whispered that she had stopped replying. I wanted to scream, my frustration boiling over as I realized the women of Dream Singles had stolen not just his money but a piece of his soul, leaving him hollow in his twilight years.

Emotionally, I struggled to reach him, my anger mixing with heartbreak as I saw the toll these scams took on his spirit. I tried to comfort him, my arms wrapping around his frail shoulders as I sat with him on the couch, but he pushed me away, his eyes empty as he muttered about his lost love. I felt him slipping further from me, my dad who once read Shakespeare to me at bedtime now a man consumed by grief for a relationship that was never real. I stopped inviting friends over, my anger flaring as I feared they’d see his decline, my once-vibrant home now a place of silence and sorrow.

My relationships with my family suffered too, the scam’s impact seeping into every connection we had. I avoided calls from my brother in Milwaukee, knowing he’d ask about Dad, my shame too heavy to share how far he had fallen. I stopped visiting my cousins in Naperville, unable to face their questions, my anger keeping me distant as I focused on trying to save Dad from himself. I missed our family gatherings, the warmth of their laughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to join them, my frustration with Dad’s refusal to see the truth consuming me, my once-close family ties now strained by his obsession.

Physically, I felt the toll of my emotional turmoil, my body reflecting the stress I couldn’t escape. I lost my appetite, my meals reduced to quick bites of toast when I bothered to eat at all, my stomach too knotted with anger to care. Sleep evaded me, my nights filled with restless thoughts, my body tense as I lay awake, worrying about Dad, my anger keeping me from rest. I stopped going for my morning runs along Lake Michigan, my energy drained, my once-active lifestyle replaced by a sedentary existence in my apartment, my body aching from the weight of my frustration.

I knew I needed to help Dad rebuild, but the path forward felt impossible, his refusal to accept reality fueling my anger even more. I started small, encouraging him to take walks with me around Evanston, my voice firm as I pulled him out of his study, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind. I sat with him over coffee at a local café, sharing stories of Mom to remind him of the real love he once had, my words gentle but insistent as I tried to bring him back to himself. I helped him budget what little he had left, cutting expenses to survive, my anger softening as I saw him take small steps toward healing.

I learned to channel my anger into action, focusing on protecting Dad from future scams, my determination a fire that kept me going. I set up stronger passwords for his accounts, my fingers typing quickly as I secured his online presence, ensuring he wouldn’t fall for another trap. I talked to him about the dangers of online dating, my voice steady despite my frustration, hoping he’d finally listen. I reconnected with my brother, sharing my fears over a call, his support a lifeline as I worked to save Dad from his own heartbreak. My journey to help Dad heal remains ongoing, but each step forward feels like a small victory, a testament to my love for him, even as I carry the scars of a scam that stole so much from us both.