Tag Archives: police

Why Pickpocketing Continues

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How Laws Tie Hands, And Cut Them Off

tree stump

Sharif spat a mouthful of blood as he laid his right arm across a wide tree stump. He had chewed the inside of his cheeks to shreds in the days since he’d been caught picking pockets in the Grand Mosque at Mecca. As an Egyptian man in Saudi Arabia, he was not entitled to extradition for his crime. He was to be punished swiftly and in public.

Meanwhile, in Spain, Kharem dusted himself off after a police beating, gave a fleeting wistful thought to the cash he surrendered, and went back to work.

“I never hear of pickpockets,” said Dina, an Egyptian woman who works as a tour guide with Abercrombie & Kent in Cairo. “I have never had a tourist in my charge complain of theft. Neither have my colleagues. If someone were to try to steal, the people around would beat him black and blue. They would knock him down and kick him, even burn his fingertips. It just does not happen here. Cairo is such a crowded city, we must live like brothers and sisters.”

Contrast Egypt with Italy, where there are just too many thieves for the police to deal with. Without exception, every police officer we interviewed throughout Italy (and much of Europe), threw up his hands and blew a jetstream of air at our first mention of pickpockets.

And while each officer showed a thorough knowledge of the perpetrators and their methods, we found a serious lack of record-keeping. No information is shared among countries, among agencies, even among stations in a single city. In fact, most officers do not even have computers into which to feed the data.

In Venice, the Municipale Police told us they are only interested in Venice, not in Italy or Europe. Because they never see the actual crime, the squad can’t arrest or jail; they “just open the door to the next city” so the problem becomes someone else’s.

Still, what’s the value of numbers, patterns, and percentages? Italy’s laws work against pickpocket police, and this is typical across Europe. Almost every European official we interviewed (with the notable exceptions of those in Naples and St. Petersburg) blamed the preponderance of pickpocketing and bag-snatching on illegal immigrants. But the countries simply cannot get rid of their illegal aliens.

In Italy, the first problem is administrative. When immigrants are caught without papers, they are politely given 15 days to pack up and leave the country. They are released. And that’s the end of it. The immigrants just do not leave. They do not choose to return to the hellholes from which they came.

Secondly, many of the foreigners have no passports or identification. And without documentation, the north African countries from which many of these people come refuse to accept their repatriation. We cannot expect to see a reduction in street crime thanks to law enforcement without the laws to back them. Their hands are tied.

In Egypt, where people live “like brothers and sisters,” Cairenes live side by side in rivalry and harmony; even men stroll arm in arm, holding hands. Across Egypt, a quasi-vigilantism controls low-level crimes. Misdemeanors and serious offenses are dealt with according to criminal code.
Egypt’s judicial system is based on British and Italian models, but modified to suit the country’s Islamic heritage and influenced by its ancient laws. Most of Egypt’s laws are consistent with or at least derived from Islamic law, the sharia.

If Egyptian pickpocket Sharif Ali Ibrahim had committed his crime in Egypt and had been caught by alert citizens, he would have been severely beaten. If he’d been caught by the police, he’d serve a significant prison term. And if he’d been found guilty of stealing from one of Egypt’s precious tourists, his sentence would have been trebled.

But Sharif committed his crime in Saudi Arabia, in fact at Islam’s holiest place. He had picked the pockets of worshippers praying in the Grand Mosque at Mecca. Therefore, following strict Islamic sharia, Sharif Ali Ibrahim’s right hand was chopped off with a sword, in public.

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Chapter Six: Public Transportation—Talk About Risky…

© Copyright 2008-2013 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Bag theft epidemic at Atlanta Airport carousel

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A road warrior self-portrait taken in a hotel mirror

A road warrior self-portrait taken in a hotel mirror

Atlanta Airport Police tell a business traveler that luggage theft from the carousel is currently an “epidemic” and “out of control.” The busines-traveler-victim plays detective and reports on the untenable shituation at Atlanta Airport baggage claim:

I was traveling on a two week business trip on a direct flight from San Antonio (SAT) to Atlanta (ATL). I travel domestically about 60% or 70% of the year, often through Atlanta as it is a major airport. This was, however, my first trip traveling to Atlanta as my destination city—on August 19, 2012.

Upon arrival, my commute to baggage claim was confusing. Like any airport, it required a lot of walking, but just when I assumed I had reached baggage claim, there was a subway that I was required to board. The subway was packed. It made at least 4 stops, each time pausing long enough for people to come and go. By the time I finally reached the baggage carousel, bags were just pouring out onto the carousel. None of the other passengers had reached it yet. We were the first! Judging by how the carousel wasn’t even completely filled up yet around the circular metal belt that rotated around, it looked like my business associates and I had arrived a few minutes late at the most. I distinctly recall all of my colleague’s bags just barely coming out for the first time as we stood there waiting. My bags never came out.

I didn’t realize it at the moment, but I was the victim of luggage theft with losses of about $3000. I waited in a long line where people wait in order to determine whether their bags were mixed up and stored in a back holding room for luggage, but the airline staff continued to reassure me that my bags were not back there. When she scanned my bag tag, it said that the last place it had reached was the baggage carousel.

In that moment, I was convinced that someone had come and stolen the luggage before the passengers arrived to the carousel! I looked around the baggage claim area, and the entire place looked suspicious and insecure! There were so many people standing far away looking to have absolutely no legitimate business there, just loitering off of the streets with their jeans sagged down to their knees.

I desperately tried to convince Delta, as well as the airport police, that my luggage was stolen! I knew it was, but nobody would listen. Everyone was as rude as could be, saying things like “you don’t know what you’re talking about. Some one probably mixed it up with theirs.” I knew that wasn’t the case. I had a unique Tumi duffel bag* that I’ve never seen anyone else traveling with. The police, Delta baggage staff, and the TSA were as apathetic as could be. I couldn’t even convince them to look into it, or consider the possibility that it was stolen!

What a nightmare! My bag had two weeks full of business attire, fitness attire, shoes (size 15 which are difficult to find), and prescription medication. I was at Walmart at 2:00AM trying to buy stuff just to wear the next day!

That’s when things got interesting! I began doing some research, convinced my boss to fly me home the following weekend where I had pictures of my 30″ Tumi duffel bag and receipts of all my stolen items. When I flew back to Atlanta to finish the second week of my trip, I persisted with the airport police, showing them pictures of what my bag looks like and documentation supporting the likelihood of my bag being stolen!

First what happened was that the airport police officer who was working at the front desk openly admitted to me that right now they have an “epidemic” (her words) of bag thefts in the baggage claim area of the Atlanta airport. She said, “Just between us, it’s out of control. We’re seeing guys like you come in here every day.”

I finally got through to a police investigator the next day who was on the phone with me as he discovered exactly what happened from looking at the surveillance video footage from the night in question. A black guy in a Kangol golf hat purposely worn low walked in. The detective said, “I can tell he knows what he’s doing”, in reference to how he wore his hat low and kept his head down the whole time. He said he knows that he is a thief because he was purposely standing far away from the carousel, not the way that people stand when they’re legitimately arriving to pick up their luggage. He said he showed up before ANY of the passengers reached the carousel, and then kept he eying my bag which was one of the first ones to come out. Keeping his distance, he waited until the bag rotated the whole way around the carousel until it was closest to his exit. Then he darted in, grabbing it, and taking off before ANYBODY even got there!

The detective openly admitted to me that they’re grabbing bags before people arrive. He said once they reach the building exit to the baggage claim, it’s a total loss and they don’t pursue it any further, no cameras, no investigation, nothing!

I believe that the Atlanta airport has a severe security hole. The thieves are aware of the timing issue where bags beat passengers to the carousels. They know just how easy it is to walk into the Atlanta airport with stolen luggage! They know that they have about 50 feet to walk towards the exit, then they’re scott-free because nobody will even look into it once they’re outside.

The airport is in a really horrible part of town. The baggage claim area is in a place where outsiders can walk in without authorization. After talking with the detective on the phone, I distinctly remember seeing other people walking around the parameter of the baggage claim building, looking around, but there was nothing I could do!

Nobody would help me. One week later, after I finally convinced the investigator to look into the problem, it was too late. I was accurate in my assumptions all along, but it was too late. That thief stole a lot of my clothes. The investigators have a video of the whole thing. They even printed out some pictures for me, but I could never pick them up because the investigator wasn’t present on my way to catch a flight home.

So that is my story. I just don’t know what to do right now because not enough people are aware of this bad security problem. I’ve already emailed the police chief of the airport precinct. I may eventually be reimbursed down the road, but the issue of them not pursuing bag thieves who shark luggage before passengers arrive is underexposed. I was hoping that perhaps by exposing it to more and more people, it will make them obligated to address the problem.

—Jacob

*About his luggage, Jacob added “It’s a wonderful bag–the 30″ long black duffel bag by Tumi. The entire shell is of a soft, extra durable canvas material. What I love about it so much is that I could pack 14 pairs of pants and shirts with still room left for shopping, and the bag itself hardly weighs anything.

Tumi Alpha duffel

Tumi Alpha duffel

“Sadly, I’m torn on the decision to purchase my favorite Tumi bag again. The detective who eventually detected the luggage thief on the surveillance video sternly warned me that these thieves are targeting specific brands, and he said that they know exactly what they’re looking for. He said something like this, “On this day it was your Tumi. The day before it was a Louis Vuitton.” I said, “Yeah well he’d get a lot more for that Louis Vuitton than my used $700 bag.” The detective replied, “They don’t care about the bag. They care about what’s in the bag.” That was my big reality check. What would you do if you were me? Buy the bag I lost, or avoid it as a security precaution?”

The fact that the bag is black makes it a target.

© Copyright 2008-2012 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Smartphone theft and police response

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Phones on cafe table

Phones on cafe table

Since recently coming to understand the high numbers of smartphone theft in Barcelona, the manners in which they’re stolen, and the strategic refusal of Barcelona police to file a theft report without the stolen phone’s serial number, Bob Arno and I returned with a television crew eager to report on our thiefhunting exploits.

Bob and I have done this repeatedly for 15 years, always with more butterflies and apprehension than confidence. We haven’t let a tv crew down yet (but it’s bound to happen). So, with crew in tow, we resumed our research in Barcelona.

Apple store, Barcelona

Apple store, Barcelona

First, since many of the stolen smartphones are Apple iPhones, I visited the brand new Apple Store on Placa Catalunya, presuming that some victims would visit in the hope of retrieving their phones’ serial numbers. I was correct, store manager Mario told me, but “only a few per day. And no, Apple won’t help them obtain their serial numbers.” (You’d have to get to the computer with which you sync the phone, open iTunes, go to Preferences, choose the Devices tab, then hover your curser over the name of the device to see a popup that shows its serial number.)

Next I returned to the police station to ask, are you serious? Really, if my phone is stolen, I can’t file a police report without its serial number? The officer on duty tried deflecting my question: “Do you have insurance?” he asked to each of my questions. I persisted until he confirmed: no serial number, no police report. Yes, you can go home and call in the serial number, but the police will not provide a copy of the police report by mail, fax, or email. What good is that?*

Barcelona police station entrance, where the welcome mat is literally worn out.

Barcelona police station entrance, where the welcome mat is literally worn out.

While at the police station, I couldn’t resist questioning the line of visitors waiting to report their thefts. iPhone stolen, iPhone stolen, iPhone stolen, etc., and two morose groups reporting that their accommodations had been burglarized. (One, a group of six Latvian students who lost multiple laptops, phones, and iPods, were devastated because as students, they couldn’t afford to replace them.) The victims kept coming and I couldn’t help but notice that the police station welcome mat was, literally, worn out. Pathetic.

One more question, Officer: this refusal to file a report without the phone’s serial number—is it just in Barcelona, or all of Spain? “All of Spain!” the officer assured me.

Next, with the RTL tv crew rolling, we traipsed through the Barrio Gotico and Born areas of Barcelona after midnight, swinging a fake iPad. I was terrified for Bob, the carrier and potential victim, due to the reports of violent snatching we’ve recently been hearing. Yet… no takers! We rested and gathered strength on gorgeous tapas and beer, setting out again through the dark lanes and creepy alleys, my brave husband willing to get mugged for television (not for the first time!).

Perhaps we were too large a group (five). Maybe we were just in the right place at the wrong time. Maybe thievery is closed on Monday nights.

Fake iPhone on our cafe table

Fake iPhone on our cafe table

Next day, we sat for hours at Cava La Universal, where we’d seen and filmed the clever smartphone thieves. We had a brilliant fake iPhone laid out temptingly on the table—like fresh bait still wriggling.

Immediately the waiter approached and pushed the phone closer to us on the table. “Don’t have it like that,” he warned, “the thieves will get it. They’re very, very fast. They’re very, very good!” We pushed it halfway back and gave him a wink.

The tv producer and I chatted and people-watched over coffee while I scrutinized humanity. I saw a few “suspects,” pointing them out to the producer. “Look at those two.” I pointed to “white-shoulders” and a pal as they walked away on La Rambla. They hadn’t come close to us. “Thieves, for sure,” I boldly pronounced. The tv producer believed me without evidence. Or maybe she didn’t.

An hour later Bob came to meet us at the cafe with the other producer and the cameraman. Guess who they had with them? “White shoulders” and his pal. And guess who they were? White-shoulders’ pal was the very phone-thief gang-leader I filmed one month ago! (Tattooed “Born to kill.”) This time, his partner, white-shoulders, was only 13 years old. I hadn’t recognized Born-to-kill as he passed by an hour before. I had only pegged him as a probably thief based on his and his partner’s body language and behavior.

Phone thieves with Bob Arno

Phone thieves with Bob Arno

Born-to-kill was in good spirits and willing to talk. Even on camera! He said he hadn’t tried to steal my iPhone because it looked fake. Liar! It looks damn real—in fact its case is real, but has a printed display. And anyway, he’d never came close enough to my table to see the iPhone. He and the child had passed at a distance. Born-to-kill’s name is Florin.

More in on this very soon.

*The benefit of filing a police report is that the theft is officially documented (supposedly), helping to show the government and the public the extent of the problem.

© Copyright 2008-2012 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Barcelona bag-snatch and the lucky victims

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Carrer de Ferran, Barcelona

Carrer de Ferran, Barcelona

Barcelona police are eager to report a theft when they catch the thief and return the victim’s property—if the following story is any indication. Makes the statistics look good! Boosts police reputation, too! This just in from Pia, a German woman visiting Barcelona for the first time. For once, a story with a happy ending.

Something similar to those stories [on the Thiefhunters' Barcelona Scams page] happened to me & my friend just yesterday. It was on our first trip to Barcelona & of course we’d been warned that there are a lot pickpockets around.

We went out to have dinner at Port Olímpic, had a lot of Sangria & were just about to return to our hotel at around 2.30. At a bus station on ‘Carrer d’Álaba’ two guys walked toward us. One of them seemed to be drunk, they chatted & laughed. The other one had already passed us when the first slender one blocked my way. He was smirking & didn’t let me pass by. Instead he suddenly started touching my breasts & I immediately knew we were surrounded. I tried to get him off & started running around the bus station to escape. My friend was so shocked she stood almost petrified on the sidewalk. In a split second the one harassing me ran off down the street when in the very same moment I heard my friend yell in shock & scream “Let go of my purse!”

The first man had tried to catch our attention so the other one had the chance to grab whatever we carried along!

We both followed him as fast as we could when he ran off into the opposite direction & around the corner. While my friend was wearing heels, I had taken mine off before all had started so I was faster but still too slow to catch up. (I now doubt that I would’ve had a chance against him if I had been faster. )

Just in this very moment (everything was happening so fast!) I heard another man yell something about the ‘bolso’ & saw a huge guy follow the thief. When I finally got around the second corner, the big one was holding my friend’s purse, talking fiercely to the other one. For a moment I thought they were partners but then I glimpsed the gun on the tall guy’s belt & saw him grabbing the thief at the wrist, pushing him up against the wall, telling me to stay ‘al forno’. He’d been a undercover cop!

About a minute later 2 police cars pulled up & one of the officers arrested the thief, handcuffs & all that!

My friend had finally caught up with the scene & the tall cop handed her the purse.

They asked us for names & IDs & reported the attack. Of course we were shaking all over & 2 of the police officers drove us back to the hotel, making sure we were okay & got back safe.

La Rambla, Barcelona

La Rambla, Barcelona

We had SO much luck, it’s unbelievable! Nothing was stolen & we got away with no more than a real shock. It’s really unbelievable how easily you can be a victim of crime, especially when you’re a female.?We couldn’t have prevented this from happening, that’s what the police told us, too. Those thieves were just too strong, my friend couldn’t have held on to her bag any tighter. I think it is scary to know you’re not safe anywhere from scams & attacks, not even 100m from your hotel.
But we were so very lucky to have someone help us!

God bless those brave policemen & god bless those amazingly fast & long legs of the guy who saved us! ;)

© Copyright 2008-2012 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Barcelona police refuse to file reports of stolen phones without serial numbers

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The jeans. The pocket.

The jeans. The pocket.

Bob and I visited the Barcelona police station for information and found the usual line of victims reporting thefts. I asked a young Norwegian couple what had happened to them.

They’d been outside Los Caracoles, a popular restaurant, after dinner (and yes, drinks). He had held up his iPhone and taken a few photos.

“They must have targeted me,” the man said, “because as soon as I put my phone in my pocket, a guy bumped into me. The phone was gone in one second and so was the thief.”

“From those tight jeans?” I asked him.

“Yes, from this front pocket.”

“And the iPhone had a rubbery case. It doesn’t slide easily,” his wife/girlfriend said. “The phone will be erased after ten wrong passwords are entered, so I’m not worried about the information on it. I’m most upset about losing the photos of our whole trip.”

The victims at the Barcelona police station.

The victims at the Barcelona police station.

Pretty typical, so far. But here’s what amazed me (and I was right there!). The Barcelona police officer behind the counter refused to take the victims’ report! That’s right—refused to file a report! Because the victims could not provide the serial number of the stolen iPhone, they were turned away. The phone was stolen! Who carries around a note with serial numbers?

In a non-ridiculous world, the Barcelona cop would have said “I’ll take your report, but you’ll have to call in or email your serial number before I file it.”

Or perhaps, “I can’t file a report without your serial number, but you can file one online here once you obtain it.” Did the Barcelona policeman tell the polite victims that it was even possible to report theft online? No, he did not. I told the victims and provided the link. (More ridiculousness: victims who file online must still visit a Barcelona police station within 72 hours of filing in order to sign the report. So if it’s your last day, like the Norwegians, you’re cooked.)

Los Caracoles in Barcelona

Los Caracoles

Next in line at the police station was a woman whose iPhone was stolen off a cafe table. The technique was an improvement on The Pickpocket’s Postcard Trick about which, coincidentally, I just posted. She was at her hotel’s restaurant, using the hotel’s wifi. She, too, was unceremoniously turned away from filing a police report because she did not have her phone’s serial number.

Strangely enough, we watched a few thieves attempt this technique just a few hours later. We were just leaving after a rest and coffee at a cafe on La Rambla. Bob spotted the thieves moments before they struck. I filmed them. They will be my next post.

Another couple I surveyed in the police station: stolen iPhone. As predicted in Summer Scams to Avoid, smart phones are the target of choice this summer. (Not that a wallet is out of danger.)

mossos d'esquadra

mossos d’esquadra

Three facts that surprise a pair of veteran thiefhunters:

1. A pickpocket stole from the tight front pocket of a man’s jeans (I saw the jeans).

2. Barcelona police refuse to file theft reports if the victims lack the stolen item’s serial number! (Stat-tampering.)

3. Barcelona police do not volunteer to victims that it is possible to file theft reports online.

I think there’s going to be more on this issue…

© Copyright 2008-2012 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Perps’ anti-arrest tactic

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Gare de Lyon train station, Paris

Gare de Lyon train station, Paris

Press the play button:

Awful sound, isn’t it? Sorry to subject you (if it autoplayed in your browser), but I’m making a point.

This racket was blasting when Bob and I visited the Gare de Lyon police station in Paris. It was created by two young women, one in a cell, the other handcuffed to a wooden bench, where she posed in every ridiculous posture she could contort herself into (not sure why). They both bellowed and sang at the top of their lungs as long as we were there—perhaps half an hour—possibly much longer.

It’s their habit. They make themselves severely unwanted guests, so the police think twice about hauling them in again and again. We never found out what they were arrested for, but their tactic was arresting.

The yelling and wailing in jail is one of the cat-and-mouse games the criminals learn to play to get an advantage, even a momentary tiny one, over the system. You know some of their other strategies: they employ children too young to arrest; they carry an infant, because the mother of an infant won’t be jailed; they cut themselves, because a bleeding arrestee must be taken to the hospital, which takes much paperwork that a tired cop may prefer to avoid, especially one near the end of his shift.

A pickpocket in Lima told us, “If the police catch you, you cut yourself and they release you. They don’t want you if you’re cut and bleeding.”

© Copyright 2008-2012 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Speeder fakes carjacking

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Highway

“John Smith” was driving 180 kph when he realized he’d just blasted through a speed trap outside of Johannesburg, South Africa.

“Knowing the police would come after me, I sped up. When I got around a bend I pulled over, jumped out of the car, and locked myself in the trunk. When the cops pulled up behind me I started banging on the trunk lid, as if I’d been locked in by carjackers.”

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Chapter Three: Getting There—With all your Marbles

© Copyright 2008-2011 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Pickpocket passion

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Michael-G created his own black bar to be sure his identity would be hidden.

Michael-G created his own black bar to be sure his identity would be hidden.

Hamburg, Germany—Undercover pickpocket cop Michael-G is the first person we’ve met who exceeds our own nutcase-level of fascination with pickpocketry.

The day we spent together a year ago was all nuts-and-bolts info-sharing, technique-talking, statistic-rattling, drollness-swapping, photo-showing, video-viewing…. You know, the usual for pickpocket enthusiasts.

Over the years we’ve come to know a few others with extreme interest or knowledge in street thievery. The first may have been Terry Jones in Barcelona, whom we met exactly ten years ago. His observations of the pickpockets and bag snatchers in his own neighborhood led him to compile a loooong page of local street-theft incidents. On the surfeit of simple, opportunistic pickpockets, he’d already come to the conclusion that “there is little in the way of evolutionary pressure to make them improve their methods. The tourists are too many and too unaware, the police are too few, and the laws are too slack.”

A friend of Michael-G's.

A friend of Michael-G's.

The mysterious Monsieur F in Paris is a passionate pickpocket cop who works as “an invisible man;” his identity cannot even be hinted at. As one might expect of a Frenchman, the guarded Monsieur F shares his emotions freely. He tells us that, although his priority is arresting thieves and keeping the public safe, he “sometimes finds victims unfriendly and pickpockets compelling.” For example, when he “arrests a thief with AIDS who has just stolen a purse with ten euros, it is difficult judge the morality…”

We had the great pleasure of introducing Michael-G to Monsieur F, and then heard from both of their delight in their new friendship and information-exchange.

Last week we spent a relaxing day at Michael-G’s tidy, upscale home in a sleepy Hamburg suburb where, over cappuccinos (he’s a first-rate barrista, too), Michael-G’s obsession with all things pickpocket could not be concealed.

His library is extensive, possibly comprising every book and film on pickpockets in existence (including my own book). A life-sized mannequin stands nearby, fully-suited, seven bells sewn to its pockets. Michael-G uses the mannequin in his lectures, but I suspect there’s a little more to the relationship.

A postcard from Michael-G's collection.

A postcard from Michael-G's collection.

He’s taught himself to do a little stealing—for show, of course—so he can entertain and demonstrate at his police presentations. And he runs a website, http://www.taschendiebstahl.com.

Michael-G admits that he lives, breathes, and dreams pickpockets. Bob and I were most impressed by his pickpocket postcard collection. I didn’t even realize such things existed. They’re beautiful, mostly old, and from the world over.

Pickpocket postcard album

Are there any pickpocket-obsessed painters or cartoonists out there?

© Copyright 2008-2011 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Pickpocket at large in a zoo

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Nutria-orange beaver rat

Source: Wikipedia.org, by Peleg

The Nocturnal Sting and the Bite
Skansen, Stockholm’s outdoor museum, suffered a nasty spate of pickpocketing incidents one midsummer. Up to eight known incidents a day occurred within the dark confines of the nocturnal animal exhibit, a part of Skansen’s aquarium.

Jonas Wahlström, owner of the Månskenshallen (Moonshine Hall), had an idea. He placed a particularly irritable five-pound Australian beaver rat into the shoulder-bag of an aquarium employee, and had her mingle with visitors at the exhibit.

An earthy smell permeated the cave-like area, and the only light came from the dimly-lit habitats. Visitors tended to murmur softly, as if they might otherwise disturb the animals. Therefore, it was shocking to everyone when a deathly human scream erupted and a heavy animal shot up toward the low ceiling before thudding to the ground.

There was havoc, of course. Visitors screamed and clumped together as far as possible from the hubbub, too curious to flee. When the poor animal fell, the aquarium employee who had been wearing it dropped to the floor and trapped it with her shoulder-bag before it could cause further harm to anyone else or itself. No one saw the man who screamed.

The badly bitten pickpocket left a trail of blood on his way out, and it is a testament to Swedish mentality that he escaped so easily. The trap was laid, the bait was fresh, the exits unguarded.

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams

Chapter Five: Rip-Offs: Introducing… The Opportunist

© Copyright 2008-2011 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Revelations of a Rolex Thief

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A street in Quartieri Spagnoli, Naples, Italy.

A street in Quartieri Spagnoli

“You remember that famous movie, the one shot in Naples?” shouted Officer DC. “In this restaurant they filmed that movie. The whole world knows this section of Napoli.” He gunned his motorcycle and he, with Bob on the back, left me in the dust on the back of Officer M’s bike.

DC and M are Falchi—Falcons—two of Naples’ anti-theft plainclothes motorcycle warriors. The squad was launched in 1995 to fight, among other criminals, scippatori, the pickpockets and purse-snatchers who operate on motor scooters. Patrolling the city on souped-up motorcycles, the Falcons fight speed with speed, power with power, and strength with strength.

Our motorcycle excursion through Quartieri Spagnoli was not exactly a wind-in-the-hair power-ride, but it was bracing, a cop’s-eye view and guided tour of one huge crime scene. Hugging the backs of these brawny, spiky-haired, Levi-clad, cool dudes, we felt immune to danger—there, at ground level, but in a protective bubble.

Bob and DC had stopped to talk with a guy on a Vespa as M and I caught up with them.

Officer DC, Bob Arno, and a Rolex thief

Officer DC, Bob Arno, and a Rolex thief

“This is AS, one of the best scippatori,” DC said. “He’s an expert with Rolexes.” The cop turned to AS: “These are two journalists from America. They want to interview you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re making a touristic tour,” DC said with a sweeping gesture.

“How many Rolexes do you take?” Bob asked. He had a video camera in his hand but it was pointed at the ground.

“In a week? It depends. Where are they going to show this movie?”

“In America. In Las Vegas. Hey—this man is better than you at stealing!”

AS didn’t react. “Are you filming this? Are you filming me and everything?”

“How many watches do you take in a week?” Bob persisted.

“I take maybe ten Rolexes in one week. Hey, I don’t like this movie you’re making. You’re going to show a bad image of Napoli.”

“This guy makes films about crime in all different cities. Quartieri Spagnoli will be famous in America.”

“AS, how much do you get for one Rolex?”

“$16,000 [in US$]. For, you know, the one with diamonds all around.”

“Now we are friends with Bob. We can visit him in America!” Officer DC started his bike.

“Can I call you on the phone?” Bob asked. “Later, when I find someone to speak Italian for me?”

“No, I don’t want to give you my phone number.”

“Bob is okay, we’ve known him for many years.” Translation: give him your number.

“Okay, you can call me. Here’s my number.”

“Why is it different? Is it new?”

“Ah, I changed the SIM card.” Translation: I’m using a different stolen phone.

Bob and I had wanted a good look at Quartieri Spagnoli ever since our unexpected introduction to a trio of scippatori—from behind. We’d heard from other officers that the police don’t even go into this district except in squads of four or more. It was a war zone, they told us. Neapolitans disown Quartieri Spagnoli as other Italians disown Naples.

As we rode through the narrow lanes, DC told us about his symbiotic relationship with AS.

“AS has a lot of respect for me, that is why he gave you his number. He gives me information about the criminals here. We cooperate.”

A Rolex thief and a cop

AS is an informer—he rats on major drug activity. In exchange, the Falchi close their eyes to AS’s vocation. Unless, that is, a tourist comes complaining to the police about a Rolex theft. In those cases, Officer DC can have a chat with AS, and AS can do some digging, find out who did the swipe, and try to recover the item. Not that it always works….

DC stopped his bike to point out some of the quarter’s highlights.

“Look at all the laundry hanging from the balconies. Typical for this area. And here, this is one of the squares where the mob is very big, the Camorra. They all have their own areas and their own crimes—drugs, prostitution, stealing…”

“Do the grandmothers really sit in the upper windows watching for Rolexes?” I asked. It sounded like a myth, but I’d heard many times that theft here was a family affair.

Someone whistled—the piercing, two-finger type.

“That means police,” DC said. “They’re warning their friends that we’re here. Yes, the women sit on their balconies and when they see something to steal they call their sons or grandsons to come by on their scooters. It’s true.” He twisted around to look at Bob. “You must be careful with your video camera. These are gangs of thieves we’re passing and they’re looking at it. They can steal it.”

We paused in front of the funicular, the very one that inspired the classic Neapolitan song “Funiculi, Funicula.”

“Here in Piazza Montesanto there are many pickpockets, near the underground station. They steal many wallets in this area. And the funiculare is here. We have four video cameras watching this Piazza. There’s a lot of drug dealing here, too.”

Most tourists never venture into these areas of Naples’ old town and, but for the threat of theft, it’s a shame. Although we have no excuse to describe them in this book about criminals, most Napolitanos are warm and welcoming toward visitors; Bob and I adore their casual, urbane tradition. With its lively outdoor culture and its heart on its sleeve, Quartieri Spagnoli is the heart and soul of the place I call the city of hugs and thugs.

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams

Chapter Five: Rip Offs: Introducing…The Opportunist

© Copyright 2008-2011 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

Also read How to Steal a Rolex

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Pickpocket statistics

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Pickpocket fingers

How prevalent is pickpocketing? How many thefts occur in one day in New York, or Rome, or St. Petersburg, Russia? Or at the Rose Bowl Parade, or the World Cup? How many thefts are actually reported? Raise your hand if you think you lost your wallet or phone.

If your wallet is suddenly just—gone!—does your pride make you say that you must have lost it (because no one could steal from me!)? Or does your vanity tell you that it must have been stolen (because I never lose things!)? Is it your nature to accept responsibility or assign blame? On which list should your missing wallet be placed? Lost or stolen?

Pickpockets are an enigmatic breed. Most are never seen or felt by their victims—or anyone else. Mystery men and women (and boys and girls) moving freely among us, they’re as good as invisible. So how can they be quantified?

How many thefts does each commit in a day? How many attempts that fail? How many successes that must be reversed, by handing back the loot or dropping it on the ground when accused?

What exactly is pickpocketing, anyway?

…Fingers stealthily extract a wallet from a man’s pocket.
…They reach into a woman’s purse for hers.
…It’s demanded “for examination” by a pseudo-cop.
…They take only cash from a wallet.
…A watch is ripped off your wrist.
…A phone is lifted from a restaurant table, right under your nose.
…A woman’s purse is taken from under her chair at a cafe.
…It’s snatched from her shoulder on the street.
…It’s slit with a razor in broad daylight.
…A gold chain is yanked from your neck.
…A backpack is taken from an airport luggage cart.
…A briefcase from the ground at your feet.
…Cash or jewelry is taken from your bag in the airplane overhead bin.

Pickpocket hand

Do all of these count? How do police reports define them? Larceny? Robbery? Lost property? Do the police reports further break them down into pickpocketing verses bag snatching verses mugging?

I’m often asked for actual statistics. Occasionally, I half-heartedly go looking for some. I’ve learned that this ambiguous crime is not uniformly classified and, of course, not uniformly reported at all.

Pickpocketing is a phantom crime. In many cases, only the perp knows the deed was done. There are no witnesses or evidence; no dead body or weapon—just the lack of some personal property which—you know—could have been misplaced.

To most police except the passionate few, pickpocketing is “petty;” too insignificant for them to take seriously. It’s more paperwork than they want to bother with, especially at the end of their shifts. They throw up their hands. They blow air. And now, it seems, they “downgrade” police reports, chalking up reported thefts to lost-property.

The news is scandalous over at New York’s JFK Airport, where the Port Authority Police Department is allegedly fudging reports:

When laptops and suitcases are reported stolen by travelers, officers are routinely ordered to downgrade the incidents from thefts to merely lost luggage—to keep the airport’s crime stats down and their bosses looking good, sources told the Post.

High theft numbers make people feel unsafe and make the police departments look bad. City administrators want to seem as if they’ve cleaned up crime. But high numbers also help get budget increases for additional personnel. Numbers can be tweaked to fit the day’s whim. It’s all political and arbitrary and very fuzzy.

The New York Post reporter describes the police report filed by a pickpocketing victim:

Kaya Tileu, 26, a resident of the Upper East Side who works on Wall Street, filed a theft report Feb. 22 alleging that his $200 wallet, $300 in cash and credit cards were swiped from inside a JFK McDonald’s.
The original paperwork listed Tileu as a grand-larceny victim. But a Post-it note attached to his police report advised the cop who filed it, “This is a lost property.—Capt.”

Pickpocket opens bag

Police aren’t counting reported thefts? I didn’t even consider this possibility when I extrapolated the numbers for Barcelona and came up with a whopping “6,000 thefts per day on Barcelona visitors.” I took the police at their word when they reported 115,055 pickpocketings and bag snatches in a recent 12-month period. I started with that number—I didn’t say but wait, let’s increase it to include the victim reports they’re not counting…

In my book, Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams, I wrote of the impossibility of compiling pickpocket statistics:

Of those reported, most, according to a New York cop on the pickpocket detail who wishes to remain unnamed, fall into the “lost property” category. “They don’t even realize they’ve been pickpocketed,” he said. “They think they just lost it.” Incidents reported as thefts are lumped under one of several legal descriptions. Larceny is the unlawful taking of property from the possession of a person, and includes pickpocketing, purse-snatching, shoplifting, bike theft, and theft from cars. Robbery is the same but involves the use or threat of force. The theft of a purse or wallet, therefore, may fall into either of these categories, and usually cannot be extracted for statistical purposes. Similarly, the figures collected under larceny or robbery include offenses this book does not specifically address; shoplifting, for example.

For many reasons, victims don’t always report thefts. Hotels and theme parks and other venues actively discourage them from filing police reports, and incident rates are suppressed. It’s bad publicity for Paradise. Pickpocketry may be a dirty little secret, but Bob and I know that this petty theft, collectively, is huge.

So give it to me already: Pickpocket Statistics

Yeah. Sorry. Here’s my big conclusion: Catch-22. As long as pickpocketry is considered petty, no one will bother collecting data. And as long as there are no large numbers, the crime will continue to be considered petty. Petty crime—who cares? Even actually reported incidents, which we know are only some fraction of a larger number, will continue to be lumped into disparate broad legal categories, unextractable. Who will expend resources on an element that can’t be counted, a scourge that can’t be seen? Like a virus, pickpockets will continue to lurk invisibly, impossible to eradicate, wreaking their havoc.

© Copyright 2008-2010 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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Fake police, aka Pseudo-Cops

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cop or pseudo-cop?

In Bangkok, seemingly corrupt police are extorting large sums from foreign visitors. In South Africa, pseudo-cops are stopping drivers and pedestrians, requesting wallets in order to see identification or “search for contraband,” then absconding. In Stockholm, thieves impersonating police lured seniors into give up their PINs at ATMs in the name of “controlling withdrawals.”

This strategy seems to have exploded recently, or at least is being recognized for what it is, or at least making it into the news.

In my book, Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams, I categorize thieves as either opportunists or strategists. Fake police are a specific type of strategist. They’re operating in small U.S. towns and cities as well as abroad. And it’s easier than ever to gear up for the job with fake badges and uniforms.

—

THE DUPLICITOUS STRATEGIST

The strategist elite are those who make participants of their victims. Like the Palma claveleras, they’re in your face with a story. Their only goal is to walk away with your wallet. Consummate con artists, they’re the slipperiest, wiliest, and most difficult to detect. Garbed in a counterfeit persona designed to gain your confidence, they lay bait and entrap their prey: usually the unsuspecting traveler.

Pseudo Cops

These strategists concoct ingenious schemes. Who could avoid falling for what happened to Glinda and Greg? They were walking in a foreign park in—well, it could have been anywhere, this is so common—when a gentleman approached them with a camera. He asked if one of them would mind taking his picture, and the three huddled while he showed them how to zoom and where to press. Suddenly two other men arrived and flashed badges. The man with the camera slipped away while the two “officials” demanded to know if the couple had “made any transaction” with him. Had they changed money with him illegally? They would have to search Glinda’s bag; and they did so, without waiting for permission.

A real badge?

“It all happened so fast,” Glinda told me a few days later, “I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t have time to think.” The “officials” absconded with Glinda’s wallet, having taken it right under her nose. In variations on this theme, the pseudo cops take only cash saying it must be examined, and they may even offer a receipt. Needless to say, they never return and the receipt is bogus.

On first impression, the pseudo cops’ scam is believable; their trick requires surprise, efficiency and confusion: they don’t allow time for second thoughts. Theirs is a cheap trick, really. They depend on a fake police shield to gain trust; they can’t be bothered to build confidence with an act. Authority is blinding, and that’s enough if they’re fast. It’s a thin swindle, but it works.

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Chapter Seven: Scams—By the Devious Strategist

© Copyright 2008-2009 Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

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