We were nearly asleep when the Jacuzzi turned itself on in the bathtub next to the bed. Of course we both flew out of bed, unsure what the racket was, then sure but baffled, then outraged. We couldn’t turn it off.
The bedroom-bath part of the suite at the East Hamburg Hotel
The East Hamburg Hotel can only be called a designer hotel (whatever that means). Every single item in the room, in the hotel, needs a second look. The bed is a free-standing unit with built-in side tables and lighting. Beside it is a free-standing bathroom counter on which are perched a creature-like mirror and—see the stomach-shaped pewter blob?—that’s the sink.
There’s a shower behind the glass doors and a toilet behind the wooden door. Between them is a huge Jacuzzi bathtub with a panel of intriguing buttons. I’m ordinarily repelled by hotel bathtubs, but we decided to give this one a try. It had a lot of noisy jets, which we soon turned off, opting for peace and quiet, as soon as we could figure out which unmarked buttons to press.
Bathtub at the East Hamburg Hotel
It was late. We’d just been the focus of a large press event. Bob had given a presentation, a series of interviews to journalists, and posed for about 30 photographers. There was a screening of our National Geographic documentary Pickpocket King, and a cocktail party. It was the last night of a hectic week of promoting the film and we had an early flight the next morning. The bath was relaxing. We dried off and fell into the seductive bed, exhausted.
Ten or 15 minutes later, we’re in twilight-land and the tub starts gurgling, humming, splashing, and foaming, as if a poltergeist were bathing. The unmarked keypad was of no use. The tub was filling.
We called reception, already dreading the imminent arrival of hotel staff, further delaying our much-needed sleep.
“It’s just cleaning itself,” front desk staff explained. “It will be finished in ten minutes and turn itself off.”
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.
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.)
Apple store, Barcelona
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?*
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.
Barcelona police station entrance, where the welcome mat is literally worn out.
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.
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.
Fake iPhone on our cafe table
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
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.
A kid, a computer, and a clever scam that games the system—that’s all it takes to make big bucks, without leaving home. For credit card fraudsters like the teenager who calls himself “d0g,” it’s simply online shopping. He doesn’t handle merchandise, cash checks, or visit drop spots. His butt never leaves his chair, his fingers never leave his keyboard, his eyes never leave his screen.
How fraud with a stolen credit card works
It’s all about shopping, according to Patrick Lambert, who poked around the underground “carder sites” that sell the information from stolen credit cards. Buy one for a few dollars and just go shopping! Well… not quite.
What’s a credit card fraudster to do: buy expensive goods online and have them shipped to his home? Certainly not. In his Interview with a malicious hacker making over $10,000 a week, [Edit 7/8/13: Lambert has taken down his fascinating and instructive article.] Lambert reports how easy it is to find and use these carder sites, and how to turn the hot credit card into hard cash:
So finally, the last question I had was how they manage to get actual, physical goods using that stolen credit card, without having to divulge their address. The way I was explained is that all he has to do is post ads on eBay for popular items that he doesn’t actually have. Then, when someone buys it, he turns around and buys that same item from some online store with the bought CC numbers, and puts the eBay buyer’s address as the shipping location. He makes those stores send the products directly to his buyers, and gets clean cash for them, which he can spend any way he wants. It’s a type of online money laundering. And apparently, the reason why these stolen numbers are sold so cheaply is because a vast majority of them are either already canceled, or maxed out.
Now I’m wondering about the wide-format pro printer I sold on Craig’s List: did I unwittingly sell it to an ID thief and obediently ship it to the innocent third party who supplied the thief with clean money? It could have worked that way, at least if I were a store that accepted credit card payments. In my case, I was paid via PayPal, and the funds cleared. Can a thief fund PayPal with a stolen credit card? I’m not sure…
You can see how this three-way scam works. An innocent and unsuspecting buyer of goods provides clean money in return for real items, and is none the wiser. A merchant sells items and is paid with a stolen credit card. d0g sits in the middle pulling strings and catching the money. Easy!
There’s much more to it though, Lambert learned from d0g. “Doing the crime, getting rich with stolen identities, is really easy. The hard part is covering your tracks, and 90% of the things these people do are for the sole purpose of covering themselves.”
That would include subscribing to a VPN (a secure and anonymous web tunnel), and funding an anonymous online payment system.
This sort of “hacking” (which is not what I would call it) can be done on a large or very small scale, but either way, easily, and causing serious financial damage. If it’s true that one credit card fraudster (like d0g, the teenager) can net over $10,000 a week with a low risk of getting caught, it’s clear that the vocation would attract legions of practitioners. It’s clear, too, that our payment system needs fixing.
* * *
12/22/15 Note to HACKERS: I appreciate when you contribute additional knowledge in the hundreds of comments below, but please realize that this post will not function as a message board for contacting each other. Check it out: all email addresses in the comments below have been deleted. This is done by a human (me), not a robot. So please save yourself (and me) the trouble. Do comment on credit card hacking, but don’t look for business here. Thanks —BV
Later note: Alas, I had to close comments on this post due to soliciting. However, there’s really interesting stuff below. Thanks for all the contributions!
Even later note: Looks like skimmers’ days may be numbered, thanks to the Skim Reaper, a credit card-sized detection device that we can dip into an ATM or POS before using it to determine its safety. Well, we won’t be using it any time soon, at a cost of almost $500, but let’s say maybe bank branch managers will check their machines periodically, and police can check random ATMs.
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
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! 😉
Thieves who operate on the principles of stealth, motion, or impedence strive to minimize contact with their victim. Zero face-time is their preference. Minimal body contact, zero notice, zero recognition. Other pickpockets, though, cause contact and use it to their advantage.
Bob Arno and I met one of these physical-types in 1997 in Tangier, Morocco. He claimed to be retired and agreed to talk about his former career, though he was reluctant to demonstrate his moves.
However, at the end of our interview, without explanation, he sort-of hugged Bob, bounced around on his toes a bit, and laughed like a hyena.
What Al’alla-the-pickpocket did in Tangier in 1997 was exactly what is referred to in Barcelona today as the Ronaldinho move. He gave a little hop and collided into Bob with a gentle force. He began to laugh idiotically, raising and lowering his head while he threw one arm around Bob’s back and clamped his shoulder in a friendly manner. His feet were dancing and shuffling, knocking into Bob’s foot and wrapping around his calf.
Bob had braced himself at the first instant of Al’alla’s “attack,” but he didn’t resist the peculiar, intimate behavior. Al’alla continued his rollicksome moves for a few seconds, then gave a great forward kick in the air as a final flourish, and stepped away from Bob.
Was that a Moroccan farewell?
We were deep within a labyrinthine medina, led to this opium den rendezvous by an unsavory guide. (The rest of the encounter is documented here.) I was doubtful about getting out with all our equipment, certain we’d be robbed, if not worse. When we finally did emerge from the maze of alleys, our guide grinned—but it looked like a leer.
“This from Al’alla,” he said, holding out the newspaper-stuffed prop wallet Bob carries. “He name-ed that dance ‘rugby-steal’.”
It was a slick move and, between the baffling behavior and all the physical contact, Bob never felt the extraction.
The Ronaldinho is the simplest of pickpocket attempts. A little friendly football play and who’s going to complain or suspect? If the thief fails, no big deal. He’ll move on and try again, improving his M.O. as he practices. It’s a starter theft technique for aspiring pickpockets.
Barcelona gets a large number of illegal immigrants from North Africa. When they can’t work, some resort to pocket picking. The Ronaldinho is their basic training. It succeeds often enough, and is endlessly repeatable.
Barcelona gets a large number of young visitors. They’re easy-going, gullible, not suspicious. They want to like the locals, but they can’t tell who’s an outsider. The harmless moment of universal bonding through sports takes them by surprise but is not offensive.
Al’alla had become a pickpocket as a child in Tangier, then traveled to Barcelona for the big time. It was the sixties, and while Tangier reveled in flower power and hippie freedom, its drugs were routed to Europe through Spain. Al’alla found picking pockets far more lucrative and infinitely safer than drug trafficking. People carried cash then, not plastic, and naiveté in travelers was more prevalent than sophistication. On La Rambla, people strolled like clots through an artery. No one suspected the darting figure of a well-dressed gentleman, so obviously in a hurry, as he ricocheted off the moving mob.
One of Barcelona’s working pickpockets demonstrates the “football steal” on Bob, before it was named the “Ronaldinho.” Although he’s in front of Bob here, he reaches around to Bob’s back pocket and finishes with a tug at the pants hem.
A year or so after meeting Al’alla, we spoke with another Ronaldinho practitioner.
We’d been watching a couple of clumsy pickpockets as they snuck a wallet from a German tourist’s backpack. But before the thief could move away, he fumbled and dropped the wallet.
The victim wheeled around. Instantly, the pickpocket bent and picked up the wallet, politely offering it to his unwitting mark, who thanked him. They shook hands. The thieves drifted away, back on the prowl. First we asked the German: your backpack was zipped—how do you think your wallet fell out? “I have no idea,” he replied, unwilling to dwell on the incident.
We left him with his perplexity and caught up with the rogue pair, asking if they spoke a little English. Very little. French? Oui, they were Algerian.
“We are not police,” Bob began in French, “but we saw you take the man’s wallet.”
“Oh, no, monsieur dropped it!”
“We want to know your specialty, what kind of stealing you’re best at. For research!”
“Oui, research!” The men laughed nervously, but made no move to leave us. They glanced at each other, then suddenly, the taller of the two, the one who’d done the stealing, slung his arm around Bob’s shoulders. Taking quick, tiny steps in place, he twisted his body left and right.
“Play soccer? Football?” He moved his legs against Bob’s as if to trip him.
Bob stiffened, aware of the maneuver, this playful sports trick. But he had a real wallet in his back pocket, containing real money. He couldn’t allow the tactic to play out. He slapped his hand over his back pocket, trapping the thief’s hand in his grip.
“Enough!” Bob said.
“No football, eh? No research.” The thief transferred his embrace to his partner, and the two ambled off.
Late the same afternoon Bob and I both zeroed in on a well-dressed gentleman in a beige sport jacket. We tracked him at a distance until he disappeared in a crowd. We ran to catch up and burst into the moving crowd a moment too late. Our suspect was down on one knee, brushing and shaking the lower pant leg of his startled victim. He rose and apologized, as if he’d been trying to help.
The victim thanked him, but didn’t know what for. He was dazed and befuddled when I accosted him, asking brusquely if he still had his money. He felt his front pants pocket. No! It was gone! $2,000! His head swiveled wildly, but the thief was gone.
“He wanted to play football!” the victim said, “Right there in the crowd!”
Our multi-talented Barcelona pickpocket acquaintance later demonstrated the soccer swipe for us, this friendly male-on-male distraction technique. Side-to-side shoulder hug, a little leg-play, a little shake of the pant leg, and the wallet is gone, all in good fun. This was way back in August 2001, before the technique was named Ronaldinho.
In our 19-year worldwide thiefhunting experience, Ronaldinho seems to be a technique specific to North Africans, practiced by them wherever they may work. But that doesn’t mean they get away with it everywhere.
Many pickpocket methods are universal. Specialized techniques emerge from a specific population, travel with their practitioners, and are eventually taken up by other local thieves. Barcelona’s pigeon poop ploy is one of those—it came out of South America as a general “dirty-him-clean-him M.O., and was brilliantly adapted to blame the city’s birds. This movement of methods fascinates Bob and me as we study criminal subcultures around the world.
We must also keep in mind Barcelona’s symbiotic reputation. To visitors it’s fun and loose, good for partying late into the night. Pickpockets come specifically because they know of its loose legal system, and because it’s full of fun-loving tourists who party into the night.
I met the elderly British victim moments after her bag was stolen. She’d been sitting on the beach in Alicante, Spain, eating potato chips. Her bag was right beside her. She lowered her head for a moment, just long enough to stare at her watch—she can’t see a thing without her glasses, which were in her bag. In that moment, her bag was taken.
It was 2 p.m. on her last day in Spain.
As I walked the woman to her hotel spa where she hoped to find her husband, she tried in vain to keep the tears from flowing. She was in a panic about her glasses and getting through airports without them. I had to brief the husband, because by then the woman had lost her composure.
A policeman had written down the address where the woman could go to file a report. Do you think she’ll get in a cab and go? No, I don’t either. If anything, she’ll find a quickie glasses shop and get some distance lenses that will see her safely home. She won’t get the bifocals like those she lost, though.
The cop said he’d guess there are about five reports a day of beach bag theft. We know the elderly Brit who can’t see isn’t going to file a report. What about the twenty-something with her boyfriend? The two guys on the prowl? The cruise ship passenger who has to be back onboard at 4:00? How many will file police reports?
The beach-shack soda-seller thought he’d recognize five or six of the area’s regular bag thieves. Are there more? How many bags does each steal in a day?
The cop defined the technique as he understands it. The perp targets a bag and creeps close with his towel or blanket. He waits for the bag’s owner to move away. He covers the bag with his towel or blanket and makes off with the hidden treasure.
Not rocket surgery.
Not the only way, either. Look at our poor British victim. She didn’t leave. She didn’t nap. She just looked away.
Bags. Like wallets and smartphones, they have legs.
A hotel I stayed in was unabashed enough to provide shampoo in a water glass! Obviously they’d simply run out of amenity bottles. But still… an oddness. Tacky.
I’ll not shame the company by naming the property.
Smartphone theft is out of control. Phones are flying off cafe tables right under the noses of their owners. The thieves are nonchalant and diabolical, and I’m going to show you how the steal is done. The perps we just filmed practiced a refined version of the pickpocket’s postcard trick. For cover, they used just a flimsy sheet of paper with an illegible scrawl on it—and they did it one-handed.
Cava La Universal
Bob and I had paused for coffee at a Barcelona cafe. We had just left the Norwegian victims at the police station, along with all the other stolen-iPhone and other smartphone theft victims who wouldn’t be allowed to file a police report. Revived, we paid and got up to leave.
Bob immediately spotted three boys hovering on the perimeter of the cafe. They did not have any pickpocket’s “tools,” like a jacket, cardboard sheet, newspaper, messenger bag, or even a hat. It’s hard to say what made us suspect these boys out of the hundreds of people in the vicinity. We had not been observing them. We simply saw them as suspects immediately. Just experience, I guess.
Danger! Do not leave your smart phone on a cafe table.
Bob spotted them and said “my nine o’clock.” I looked to his left just as they sprang into action. I got my video running in the nick of time. Two of the boys headed for the cafe, each extracting a sheet of paper from under their shirts as they walked. I focused on one of the boys and got right behind him, camera extended blatantly.
He walked up to a table where a tourist couple was relaxing with drinks and, with his left hand only, held his piece of paper over the iPhone sitting in front of them. I could see his fingers under the paper trying to grasp the phone. So did the smartphone theft almost-victim—or rather, he noticed the phone move a bit. He heard it, too, as one end was briefly lifted and slipped back onto the table. He reached for it. The young pickpocket, unperturbed, moved to another table as if to try again, but then reversed and left the cafe.
The young pickpocket tries to nab the phone one-handed under his paper. (Frame grab from video.)
How is it possible to hold a piece of paper with one hand and sneakily snag a phone (or a wallet) with the same hand? We didn’t get it until we watched our video later.
The video also showed that the oldest boy, about 20 with unshaven peach fuzz, had sent in the two youngsters, who worked on adjacent tables almost simultaneously. Both failed in this instance.
Both thieves have just tried and failed to steal iPhones at adjacent cafe tables.
The boys left the cafe and rejoined their friend. As they sauntered away, we were right there with them, demanding they speak with us. In a combination of French and English, they told us they’re Romanian. The two younger boys, pimply and beardless, were 14-16. The youngest-looking claimed to be 15. The oldest of the three, clearly the “controller” of the gang, was pierced and tattooed, the inside of his left wrist proclaiming “Born to kill.”
Surprisingly, the killer provided his email address and posed for a photo with the youngster. The other boy backed away from the pose.
Bob Arno in Barcelona with two of the three “table-top boys.”
We left the three boys and went back to the cafe. The smartphone theft almost-victims were still there, still relaxed, as if they were almost ripped off every day. Bob and I introduced ourselves and asked them what they’d seen. They had focused on the note, “something about money and eat,” the Belgian man said, “and he kept pointing to the word gracias.”
Aha! The almost-victims had seen something subtle which we couldn’t see from behind—a gesture so casually performed they hadn’t thought anything of it. What they described was a trick worthy of a world-class magician. Masterful misdirection.
Bob and I are impressed by the devilish simplicity of the one-handed technique. Although we watched the boys fail, with practice these teenagers will turn a blithe deception into a powerful thievery tool.
Dear Readers: do not leave your valuables on cafe table tops! Now you see it—now you don’t. These thieves are magicians.
The sunburned almost-victims tell us how they they thwarted the theft of their iPhone.
I have over fifty years’ experience watching magicians, mentalists, con artists, thieves, and financial criminals executing their ruses to fool, bamboozle, or divert attention from reality. Yes, I’m blasé when it comes to deceptive moves, be they performed by skillful politicians or close-up magicians at the Magic Castle.
But occasionally even I get taken in. In the case of the one-handed smartphone theft in Barcelona, which must be attempted hundreds of times a day, I could not immediately figure out the exact moves of the young Romanian pickpocket (whom we filmed in action), even though I replayed the video of his attempt over and over. Granted, the seven seconds of footage was from behind and wide-angle, and all the finer details were lost. It infuriated me that I couldn’t see or figure out the “tipping point” of the exercise.
Even replaying the interview with the mark didn’t shed light on the dexterity of the thieves, or their technique, until I played close attention to a small detail of the mark’s re-enactment of the thief’s approach, and the positions of his hands. It suddenly hit me—WOW—how simple; and yet how effective. And how absolutely insignificant the gesture would be to any victim sitting at a table sipping coffee with a smartphone (or wallet) on the table.
Yet, without that two-second move, the one-handed steal could never be perfected. These young, unsophisticated thieves, through practice, have accomplished a sort of fluid elegance that they repeat day after day, hour in hour out. It wreaks havoc on the celebrated Barcelona charm visitors experience as they people-watch over a drink or a coffee on La Rambla.
And no, we will not reveal the actual move! It would spread among all thieves who read our stories like weeds in a strawberry patch.
Barcelona police are turning away theft victims who come to report the theft of their phones. Why? The victims can’t provide the stolen phones’ serial numbers (duh). In three minutes, we saw three separate victims of theft prohibited from filing official police reports.
I wish we’d surveyed the rest of the victims waiting in line. Doubtless some lost wallets full of cash, but smart phones are the hot item for thieves this year, and Barcelona Police aren’t going to let them inflate their theft statistics.
The more I dwell on this, the madder I get. These are a subset of victims, already upset, who bother to make the trek to the remote police station to file official reports. They need these reports for their insurance claims. But they don’t have access to records of their electronic devices’ serial numbers while on holiday and Barcelona Police know it.
Now, with a brand new Apple store having just opened last week, stolen-iPhone victims might be in a bit of luck if Apple will provide the information the police require. If those victims have time to go across town to the Apple store, wait for employees to access their account histories, then return to the police station. Nice vacation!
When police make it impossible to file an official theft report, they tamper with statistics. The motivation is clear: what city doesn’t want lower crime stats? What city doesn’t want to show the effectiveness of its police department?
And what city desperately needs to show lower pickpocketing statistics than Barcelona? I get it.
Three stolen-iPhone victims in three minutes. Let’s extrapolate on the conservative side and say three in ten minutes. That’s 18 an hour, or what, 200 a day? More? Fewer? Impossible to say but “a lot” would be accurate. Police translators are only on duty ten hours a day, if I remember correctly, so reports from foreigners would be concentrated during those hours. I believe 200 smart-phone theft victims showing up each day at the Mossos d’Esquadra (Barcelona’s Catalan police station) is conservative. That’s 200 reports of theft not filed. Per day.
I didn’t consider this possibility when I wrote 6,000 Thefts Per Day on Barcelona Visitors. Granted, smart phones weren’t the hot target they are today. But I knew that Barcelona Police had other methods to thwart the filing of theft reports: limited hours of available translators; bouncing victims from one police station to another, demanding they come back in a few hours… Still, numbers in the hundreds of thousands are admitted by Barcelona Police as reports successfully filed by pickpocket and bag snatch victims.
We know we can’t trust those numbers. The police admit to 9,000 violent muggings in the first ten months of 2011. That’s 30 per day. And 2,000 bag-snatches in the same period—6 per day. But how many pickpocketings? How many other thefts? And how many people bother or try to file police reports? And of those, how many succeed?
I know—I’ve got far more questions than answers. I will revisit the police station in a few weeks and report back.
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.
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
[5/15/17 edit: In the comments below, Jon pointed out that for a stolen iPhone, “you can log onto http://appleid.apple.com, where you can view all devices linked to your Apple account as well as their IMEI and serial numbers.” Great suggestion, though this only works for devices that are logged into your Apple account.]
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
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).
