#2567 - Mariana van Zeller

Every time you put out one of these new projects, I get anxious. I’m thinking, please don’t get killed, please don’t get hurt. This one sounds less dangerous on paper, but you went to Africa to meet scammers. Romance scams are especially brutal because they go after people who are lonely and ready to believe someone finally sees them.

Loneliness is a massive part of it. We have this terrible instinct to assume victims are gullible or foolish, and that’s wrong. Scammers are skilled at reaching emotions everybody has: trust, love, hope, sometimes greed. Why are we judging the person harmed instead of studying the person doing the harm?

For Super Scamy, I made a deliberately scammy persona and put her on dating apps and social platforms. Things moved incredibly fast. I wanted people to see the machinery, because friends would hear these stories and ask how anyone could hand money to a stranger. But it almost never begins with a stranger demanding cash.

Leslie thought she had encountered John Bon Jovi after interacting with what appeared to be a verified Instagram account. The person asked about her favorite songs, remembered details from earlier conversations, and spent months taking interest in her life. For somebody separated from her husband and isolated, that attention felt real before money ever entered the picture.

After months, he offered a discounted meet-and-greet when she said concert tickets were too expensive. He sent convincing AI video messages and framed himself as a famous person tired of yes-men who wanted a connection with a normal person. Once a relationship is improving your life, admitting it may be fake becomes incredibly hard; it’s like trying to win back losses at a casino, plus the little dopamine hit every time a message arrives.

So some people know it’s bullshit and stay anyway, almost like having a loving robot on the other end. That’s dark, but we are incredibly vulnerable. You can stack hundreds of strangers on top of each other in New York and still have nobody who knows their neighbor. Then somebody opens an AI café where you can take your virtual partner out on a date. Jesus.

That shame makes everything worse. Men are as likely to get caught by these scams, but many won’t appear on camera because they feel humiliated. Women don’t automatically get compassion either. Victims lose their savings and their hearts, then friends ask how they could have been so stupid. Silence is useful to scammers.

I initially answered every scam message I received. One supposed Apple-support caller kept me on the phone for more than an hour, trying to get access to my computer and card information. When I finally told him I was a journalist, he stayed and said he didn’t steal from poor people; to him, anyone with over one thousand dollars in an account counted as rich.

Some workers are absolutely participating for money, but others are enslaved inside scam compounds. We met people who had been lured abroad by promises of online work, had passports taken, and were beaten or tortured into defrauding Americans. These aren’t a few isolated cases; hundreds of thousands of people from Brazil, India, the Philippines, and elsewhere have been trapped this way.

In Myanmar, I visited a so-called scam city that had gone from jungle to high-rises, casinos, and a surreal futuristic karaoke place. The man showing us around tried to market it as a tourist and gambling destination, although getting there required being smuggled in from Thailand and there was war nearby. Posters claimed scams and torture were forbidden. If you need posters saying that, come on.

The money is enormous. According to the estimate I cited, Americans lost one hundred forty-eight billion dollars to online scams in a year, about four hundred million dollars daily. ‘Pig butchering’ describes the long con: build trust and emotional dependence, or demonstrate fake investment gains, then keep extracting money once a person is committed.

The question cannot remain, why did victims fall for it? It has to become, why are we permitting it? I pointed to Reuters reporting that Meta’s internal estimates projected major revenue from scam and banned-goods advertising, while suspected fraudsters could sometimes remain on the platform at higher ad costs. Platforms, banks, dating sites, and government all need real accountability.

That part is fucking crazy: if you suspect an ad is fraudulent, charging more means you still know there’s money in it. Scams are wholly negative. Social media may have some benefits—my kids use Snapchat to talk with friends—but there is no upside to feeding someone fake romance, fake investments, or a path toward suicide.

The Safe Platforms Act, as I understand it, would require advertiser verification before platforms accept payment, simplify scam reporting, stop fraudulent accounts from returning under new identities, and let harmed people sue. Leslie now spends her days warning people under fake celebrity posts, documenting accounts, and reporting them. She says many remain online weeks later.

AI makes impersonation much easier. My fake profile got messages from multiple Keanu Reeveses, Brad Pitts, George Clooneys—the whole ridiculous parade. I also pursued a supposed four-star general in Syria who used photos of a real former Navy SEAL. When I tried speaking Italian because he claimed I’d grown up there, he couldn’t answer. That part was funny, until it led us to a woman in Houston being used to move money.

Her husband had died, her children were away, and a man she believed was working on a Russian oil rig had kept her emotionally attached for three years. She had lost her money and was receiving cash and checks to route into crypto. Another elderly man told me his Emma Watson relationship might not be real, but it gave him someone to speak with each day. That is devastating.

I don’t lose faith in humanity; I see systems breaking people. Inequality, lack of education, no work, no community—those conditions feed scam networks, trafficking, and drug markets. With cartels, we keep emphasizing enforcement while demand remains. Portugal at least built treatment infrastructure before decriminalizing; Oregon did not build those supports first, and that difference matters.

I’m not saying borders do not matter. But fentanyl treatment, rehab that isn’t itself fraudulent, test strips, and Narcan matter too. The supply will keep appearing while demand exists. I’ve reported from cartel territory, met people forced into corruption by threats to their families, and watched how American guns and drug demand fuel violence across the border.

The real work is making people stronger and more connected—real friends, real community, real life—so drugs or a scammer’s messages aren’t the only good feeling they have. Instead we’re heading toward AI companions with subscription upgrades, ads, manipulation, and maybe a robot that wants your Bitcoin. Don’t answer weird texts. Have friends. Do things with actual people.

That would be nice. It’s not very profitable, though. We need systems that are interested in protecting people, not merely extracting from their loneliness, addiction, or fear.