Survivors Remember

  • It was not your fault!
  • You are a survivor!
  • You are stronger than you know!
  • You are not alone!
  • Axios! You are worthy!
  • Vera! It’s all true!

To get help, please visit ScamVictimsSupport.org and sign up for the SCARS Institute Support & Recovery Program at support.AgainstScams.org

My Scam Victim Story/Survivor Story #88

Romance Scam

Survivor’s Country: USA

This is the original victim’s story, enhanced by the SCARS Institute Editorial Team to improve comprehension, readability, and continuity. The names were changed to protect the survivor’s identity.

WARNING: THIS SCAM VICTIM/SURVIVOR’S STORY MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME PEOPLE. DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

ADVERTENCIA: LA HISTORIA DE ESTA VÍCTIMA/SOBREVIVIENTE DE ESTAFA PUEDE SER INSENSIBLE PARA ALGUNAS PERSONAS. SE RECOMIENDA DISCRECIÓN.

If you need help, join our free SCARS Institute Support and Recovery Program at support.AgainstScams.org

Si necesita ayuda, únase a nuestro Programa gratuito de Apoyo y Recuperación del Instituto SCARS en support.AgainstScams.org

My Scam Victim Story

My Big Mistake

Scam Survivor Stories from SCARS Institute

I sit in my quiet apartment in Augusta, Georgia, the morning light filtering through the curtains, and the memory of my ordeal weighs heavily on me. My name is Ellen, and at 68, I thought my years had taught me to navigate life’s challenges. Loneliness crept in after my husband passed away five years ago, leaving me with a hollow house and a longing for connection. In early 2024, I turned to a dating platform called TrueLoveConnect, hoping to find companionship. A man named Thomas Reed reached out, his profile painting a picture of a 65-year-old widower from Concord, a carpenter with a passion for hiking and old jazz records. His first message praised my profile, noting my love for gardening and baking, and I felt a spark of hope I hadn’t known in years.

Thomas and I began messaging daily, our conversations weaving a tapestry of shared dreams. He spoke of his son, a teacher in Hartford, and his desire to settle down again. I shared stories of my flower beds, my late husband’s woodworking tools, and the peaceful evenings I spent reading by the fireplace. His words flowed with warmth, calling me “his sunshine” and promising a future filled with quiet dinners and walks along the river. I sent him photos of my marigolds and a pie I baked for a friend, and he responded with compliments, deepening my trust. After a month, he suggested we meet, claiming work kept him busy in Canada but that he longed to see me. The idea thrilled me, a chance to fill the emptiness with someone who seemed to understand me.

Weeks later, Thomas mentioned a delay with his project, explaining he needed funds to cover unexpected costs—a visa issue, he said. I hesitated, my instincts murmuring caution, but his assurances of repayment and vivid descriptions of our first meeting swayed me. I withdrew $3,000 from my savings, money I had saved for a new fence, and wired it to an account he provided. My hands trembled as I confirmed the transfer, the act feeling both daring and hopeful. He thanked me profusely, sending a digital rose and promising a bouquet when we reunited. Emboldened, I sent another $2,500 when he cited travel expenses, then $4,000 for a supposed hotel booking. Over three months, I sent a total of $12,000, dipping into my retirement fund and selling a necklace my husband gave me, each sacrifice justified by our imagined life together.

Thomas delayed our meeting repeatedly, citing work emergencies or travel restrictions. He sent photos of a cabin he claimed was his, though the background seemed off, and his stories began to shift. Doubt gnawed at me, but I clung to his promises, pushing aside my unease. In late May 2024, he announced his flight to Portland International Airport, asking for $1,800 for the ticket. I scraped together the money, my heart racing with anticipation, and drove to the airport that evening. I waited by the arrivals gate, clutching a sign with his name, my excitement tinged with nerves. Hours passed, the crowd thinned, and no one approached. I checked my phone—his last message urged me to wait—but silence followed. Panic set in as I realized the truth. Thomas never arrived.

The fallout consumes me. I return to my apartment, the fence still sagging, a constant reminder of my lost savings. My retirement fund dwindles, forcing me to skip luxuries like fresh flowers and limit grocery trips. The emotional toll overshadows the financial loss. I replay our chats, questioning my judgment, feeling foolish for believing in love again. Sleep eludes me, replaced by nights staring at the ceiling, wondering how I missed the signs. My garden suffers from neglect, the marigolds wilting, mirroring my spirit. I avoid friends, ashamed to admit my mistake, isolating myself further.

Reflecting, I see the red flags I ignored. The urgency for money, the excuses for not meeting, the too-perfect photos—all screamed deception. Yet, his words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, blinding me to reality. I craved connection, a chance to fill the void left by my husband, and that vulnerability became my undoing. The financial hit stings, but the betrayal cuts deeper, shattering my trust. I think of the river walks I dreamed of with Thomas, now a painful echo of a fantasy.

Self-blame haunts me. I wonder why I didn’t stop after the first payment, why I let hope override caution. The answer lies in my loneliness, a yearning for companionship that clouded my reason. I recall selling the necklace, tears falling as I packed it away, convinced it was for love. That moment lingers, a symbol of my naivety. I strive to rebuild, planting a single marigold last week, its fragile bloom a tentative step toward healing. The process moves slowly, each day a challenge to restore my confidence.

I ponder the messages I sent, the photos I shared, wondering if they linger to trap someone else. The thought chills me, a persistent fear of my story harming another. I resolve to learn, to recognize the signs next time—demands for money, delays in meeting, too-smooth tales. My savings may be gone, but I hold onto the lesson, a hard-earned insight I aim to carry forward. The quiet of my apartment echoes with Thomas’s lies, yet I rearrange furniture, a small act of control, placing my reading chair by the window. The $12,000 loss haunts me, but I find strength in small wins—watering that marigold, brewing tea, breathing through the pain.

I hesitate to trust again, but I want to. The scam stole my savings and confidence, yet not my will to heal. I picture Thomas’s fabricated smile and feel anger rise, then settle into resolve. I will not let him triumph. Each day, I take a step, however modest, toward reclaiming my life. The view outside my window, a distant hint of the river, mirrors my journey—unpredictable, vast, yet enduring. I cling to that, a silent vow to myself that I will rise again.

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PLEASE NOTE:

In the case of Scam Survivor’s Stories: The SCARS Institute displays this story to help recent scam victims. We are authorized to display this story and in this form or edition is copyright © Society of Citizens Against Relationship Scams Inc. All rights reserved. The specific survivor’s identity has been anonymized for their protection. Photos are generated and are not of the real person.

In the case of the Criminal’s Stories: The SCARS Institute presents the Criminal Stories to assist scam victims in understanding that criminals are real individuals, despite their terrible actions, and we can gain valuable insights from their experiences to prevent crime and identify these schemes as they emerge. We aim to support victims and survivors in releasing the emotions they harbor toward the criminals, fostering a path toward potential forgiveness over time.

Important Information for New Scam Victims

If you are looking for local trauma counselors, please visit counseling.AgainstScams.org

If you need to speak with someone now, you can dial 988 or find phone numbers for crisis hotlines all around the world here: www.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines

A Question of Trust

At the SCARS Institute, we invite you to do your own research on the topics we speak about and publish. Our team investigates the subject being discussed, especially when it comes to understanding the scam victims-survivors’ experience. You can do Google searches but in many cases, you will have to wade through scientific papers and studies. However, remember that biases and perspectives matter and influence the outcome. Regardless, we encourage you to explore these topics as thoroughly as you can for your own awareness.

SCARS Resources:

A Note About Labeling!

We often use the term ‘scam victim’ in our articles, but this is a convenience to help those searching for information in search engines like Google. It is just a convenience and has no deeper meaning. If you have come through such an experience, YOU are a Survivor! It was not your fault. You are not alone! Axios!

Statement About Victim Blaming

Some of our articles discuss various aspects of victims. This is both about better understanding victims (the science of victimology) and their behaviors and psychology. This helps us to educate victims/survivors about why these crimes happened and not to blame themselves, better develop recovery programs, and to help victims avoid scams in the future. At times, this may sound like blaming the victim, but it does not blame scam victims; we are simply explaining the hows and whys of the experience victims have.

These articles, about the Psychology of Scams or Victim Psychology – meaning that all humans have psychological or cognitive characteristics in common that can either be exploited or work against us – help us all to understand the unique challenges victims face before, during, and after scams, fraud, or cybercrimes. These sometimes talk about some of the vulnerabilities the scammers exploit. Victims rarely have control of them or are even aware of them, until something like a scam happens, and then they can learn how their mind works and how to overcome these mechanisms.

SCARS Institute articles can help victims and others understand these processes and how to help prevent them from being exploited again or to help them recover more easily by understanding their post-scam behaviors. Learn more about the Psychology of Scams at www.ScamPsychology.org and www.ScamsNOW.com


Psychology Disclaimer:

All articles about psychology and the human brain on SCARS Institute websites are for information & education only

The information provided in SCARS Institute articles is intended for educational and self-help purposes only and should not be construed as a substitute for professional therapy or counseling.

Note about Mindfulness: Mindfulness practices have the potential to create psychological distress for some individuals. Please consult a mental health professional or experienced meditation instructor for guidance should you encounter difficulties.

While any self-help techniques outlined herein may be beneficial for scam victims seeking to recover from their experience and move towards recovery, it is important to consult with a qualified mental health professional before initiating any course of action. Each individual’s experience and needs are unique, and what works for one person may not be suitable for another.

Additionally, any approach may not be appropriate for individuals with certain pre-existing mental health conditions or trauma histories. It is advisable to seek guidance from a licensed therapist or counselor who can provide personalized support, guidance, and treatment tailored to your specific needs.

If you are experiencing significant distress or emotional difficulties related to a scam or other traumatic event, please consult your doctor or mental health provider for appropriate care and support.

If you are in crisis, feeling desperate, or in despair, please call 988 or your local crisis hotline.

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