In my 23 years in law enforcement, I’ve seen many people scammed. Most schemes involved hiding behind computer screens, renting nonexistent apartments or exploiting a grandparent’s love by asking for a grandchild’s fake bail. However, I found myself on the other side of the report after my father became a victim. My mother and father lost most of their life savings.
Last year, my father received a fake invoice by email. Seeking clarification, he called the “customer service” number listed and was connected to a sophisticated criminal syndicate. The scammers convinced him they needed to issue a refund, persuading him to provide banking information, which granted them remote access to his computer.
Manipulating his screen to show an erroneous $300,000 credit, the scammer claimed this “mistake” would cost one of them his job unless my father helped fix it. Following their instructions, my father went to his bank, wired $300,000 to a nearby coin dealer, purchased gold, and handed it to a courier sent to his home.
Throughout the process, my father was on the phone with the scammers. Yet no one at the bank or the coin store asked a single probing question. No one questioned why an elderly customer was wiring money for the first time in decades, liquidating the accounts, or appearing anxious. Instead, everyone processed the transactions.
Even more astonishing, it happened again the very next day. The scammers repeated the same story with another fake credit, this time for $100,000. Only after this second handover did my father realize he had been deceived. He was able to photograph the license plate and immediately contacted police.
Fortunately, a veteran detective pursued the investigation and made an arrest. Whether that low-level participant ultimately identifies those directing the operation remains to be seen. But while law enforcement acted swiftly, the two institutions that enabled these transactions have accepted no responsibility.
My father has sued both the bank and the coin company for negligence. His claim: the Treasury Department has repeatedly warned financial institutions to train employees to recognize red flags of elder financial exploitation, the very warning signs my father displayed. Despite those guidelines, neither institution intervened, asked basic questions, or paused transactions long enough to verify what was happening. Instead, they allowed a criminal enterprise to use their businesses as conduits for stolen wealth.
The consequences extend far beyond the financial. The stress hospitalized my father and robbed my parents of the security they spent half a century earning. They now approach every phone call, email, and financial transaction with suspicion.
Meanwhile, the bank and coin company are fighting the lawsuit. In court filings, the bank even argued that because the price of gold has risen since the scam, my father’s purchase turned out to be a good investment. That corporate indifference only deepens the wounds.
That lack of accountability is exactly what lawmakers must address. In New Jersey, Senate Bill S1525 would create the offense of financial exploitation of the elderly. However, the bill targets only the street-level criminals while shielding the deep-pocketed institutions processing the transactions.
If we truly want to protect seniors, financial institutions cannot be permitted to ignore the very red flags regulators warn of. They should be required to exercise a basic duty of care, ask simple questions, and share responsibility when they enable preventable fraud. Until then, global syndicates will happily roll the dice on street-level arrests while the corporate entities handling the cash enable the pipeline.
Maas is a 23-year law enforcement veteran and a licensed attorney.