A pickpocket gang who amassed more than 5 million pounds by stealing mobile phones on the Tube has been jailed for more than 30 years. Pictured is ringleader Nawid Moshfiq. Photo courtesy swns.com
Pickpockets Stole Mobile Phones
Who says pickpocketing is a petty crime?
A gang of 11 thieves was just sentenced in London. These pickpockets stole mobile phones on the London Tube and supposedly made about $15,000 a day. Police recovered £143,000 but credit the gang with making more than five million pounds through stealing phones. Let me do the math for you: that’s more than seven million dollars. Is that petty?
These thieves belong to a criminal network and systematically steal mobile phones from Tube passengers. It’s not a one-off crime. The British Transport Police Chief Superintendent Paul Brogden calls this an “industrial-scale criminal operation.” Can it possibly be considered petty?
More than a thousand mobile phones were seized with a large quantity of cash.
You can tell that term really irks me. The entire premise that pickpocketing is a petty crime irks me. How much evidence do we need?
You’d think I’d be used to this kind of report, after 22 years of pickpocket research.
These characters were all sentenced to two to three years; head thief Nawid Moshfiq got a little more time. What will they serve, half? Less? Then what? Will they go back to work in London? Maybe, or they’ll move on to another city where the police don’t know them.
Disorganized hordes of people congregate under the Eiffel Tower: tourists, touts, pickpockets, and police.
French and Romanian police have just busted 18 members of an organized crime group in Romania and Paris. The gang, actually part of a huge network, is in the business of putting children to work as pickpockets and beggars.
Europol’s press release of February 12, 2016 states that the child pickpockets worked in and around the top tourist sites of Paris and on the trains, and that they took in about 7,000 euros per day.
The report does not reveal actually who was arrested. Were they only adult organizers, or were some of the child pickpockets themselves arrested, too? Neither do we know how many people made up this particular ring (this part of the larger network). Was it ten children, a hundred, or hundreds?
Child pickpockets
Bob Arno with part of a mob of child pickpockets. The youngest called for a group photo. Here they pose and clown, but none of them take photos of their own.
What we do know is that there are many, probably hundreds, of young pickpockets scampering around Paris. We know that there’s a fine line, even a crossover, between pickpocketing and begging. And we know that a habit of these children, when arrested, is to claim that their name is Hamidovic.
Exactly one year ago, I posted the story Hamidovic Pickpocket Network—Fagin is Alive! At that time, 60-year-old pickpocket-kingpin, gangster, and child-trafficker Fehim Hamidovic, was sentenced to seven years in prison. And our official, unnameable source in Paris, The Mysterious Monsieur F., famously said about the Hamidovic network:
This ‘beast’ will soon have a new head. The arrest of the chief of the Hamidovic pickpocket network did not change anything, they are always there. And they make a carnage!
That they do. In addition to the 7,000 euros per day the underage pickpockets take in (according to police), add the untold thousands that go unreported (see my logic related to pickpocket statistics in Barcelona), and add the collateral damage in lost mobile phones, credit card abuse, man-hours expended in reporting thefts, in replacing lost drivers licenses, credit cards, passports, and other documents, etc. Petty, it is not!
Also, if you go to Paris today, you will not notice a dearth of child pickpockets. Those arrested, be they the children themselves or their handlers, were a drop in the sea. Not to mention that, if it is anything like arrests in the past, the offenders will be released in less than 24 hours. If those arrested are adults, if they were charged with human-trafficking and other organized-crime counts, hopefully they will be held until their trials.
Europol International Pickpocketing Conference
Police across Europe are finally beginning to take pickpocketing more seriously. In December, Europol held a three-day conference on pickpocketing in The Hague, in which 18 countries participated with almost 200 participants. Though not a police officer, Bob Arno was invited to (and did) speak at the conference. Bob’s knowledge base is worldwide, unlike the police, who are bound to a single city.
This week’s arrest of 18 pickpockets is a promising start to a new initiative. It won’t be easy, as these gangs morph and move, and traipse across international borders. It’s like squeezing a balloon: when the welcome wears out in one city, when a country becomes legally uncomfortable for the pickpockets, they simply move on to greener pastures. As Bob and I speak to pickpockets around the world, we hear repeatedly that Spain is a favored location, especially Barcelona. The climate is mild, living is cheap, tourism is thriving, and the police “can be dealt with.”
As long as pickpocketing is considered “petty,” arrests will be a revolving-door affair. Charging these pickpocket gangsters as human-traffickers should increase the probability that they will be held and eventually convicted.
“Pedro” spoke to us freely in a restaurant in Paris. He eventually even told us his real name. Paris police know him by his two crooked little fingers.
Bob and I interviewed “Pedro” in Paris a few months ago. We first saw him at a coffee bar inside Gare de Lyon, a huge train station. To us, it was clear that he was observing someone. We watched and waited a short distance away. Eventually Pedro abandoned his prey, but we were certain enough of his profession. Bob pounced on him as he was leaving the station, chatting him up.
Surprisingly, Pedro spoke good English. For 20 minutes out in the streets, Bob stuck to him like glue trying to convince him to talk to us. I tailed the two of them, first from a distance, then joining up. Unable to get rid of us, Pedro nervously asked for our IDs.
“Maybe you’re a cop,” he said to Bob.
“But I don’t look like a cop.”
“Nobody looks like a cop. Maybe you’re somebody that works with a cop.” Pedro fake-laughed. ”What do you want,” he repeated. And, giving up on denials: “How did you find me?”
“I’ve followed you for an hour,” Bob said, clearly shocking and confusing Pedro. “Talk to me. You’ll enjoy it!”
“Okay, we’ll talk, and I’m going to tell you the truth. You grow in this job. You start to feel who sees you, who’s watching. That’s why I’m surprised you followed me.”
“What do you want most out of life, other than money?” Bob asked as Pedro led us to a nearby brasserie.
“Education for my child in Peru.”
We settled into the booth with the least noise and best light. Pedro asked the staff to lower the music volume. Bob ordered lunch for himself. Pedro ordered orange juice. Bob and I quickly set up an array of video cameras to film Pedro, with his permission, only from the back. Then we got started.
To three cameras and an audio recorder, Pedro told a pickpocket’s story. He frequently turned to look at me, putting his face in the picture.
A pickpocket’s story
Call me Pedro. I’ve never used drugs. No one else in my family does this job. I have a daughter—we talk on the phone. She doesn’t know my work. I’m nervous when I work, all the time. But you have to control it.
In France, the first time you’re arrested, you probably won’t go to jail. The second time, maybe. The third time, you will go, maybe for three months. It depends: if you work alone, it’s not too bad. If you are working with three or four, it’s a gang and you go to jail for longer, maybe one year.
The amount of money I make varies. It depends on many factors. The place is very important. If you want to make money, you have to go to the big hotels, the five-stars. You use psychology, so you’re not suspected. You must be well-dressed. If you look like a good man, the person working the doors doesn’t keep you out. You are a good man! You have to feel like a good man to avoid security.
The real money is in the airports, the train stations, the big hotels, the nice hotels, the 5-stars… that’s my work. Sometimes I go on trains while they’re in the station, waiting for someone to put a bag down. But only before the train leaves. I don’t ride on the train.
Wait, someone’s calling me—it’s my wife.
[Pedro, smiling, speaks Spanish, describes us to the person on the phone.]
I was in Gare de Lyon today because I was following somebody. I might follow someone 20 minutes, one hour, if I’m working by myself.
My first cautious, secretive photos show the well-dressed Pedro on the right, Bob on my left.
When judging a victim, I look at their baggage and their shoes. But good shoes alone are not enough. Sometimes people have a lot of cash because they don’t pay tax. The black people, the Chinese, the Arabian people.
I might first see them when I work at the airport. Then I follow them until the right moment. In the hotel it’s easier, because they put everything on the floor.
I first saw the man I was following today in the station. This month is vacation for people. They don’t put cash in the bank, they keep it, they don’t pay tax, they don’t use credit cards. I wanted to take his bag. He put it on the floor and went to buy a coffee. But a lady came near and there were a lot of people, so it didn’t work.
In Paris… in a week… it depends. I can make 10,000 euros, 5,000. I don’t think that’s a lot. In another week, I might make less. It’s luck.
I don’t use the credit cards. I’m looking for cash. Or maybe sometimes there’s a nice watch in the bag. I don’t use credit cards because I don’t have the PIN. For me, if I don’t have the PIN, I throw it out. Sometimes I put all the credit cards and ID in the post office box.
I was arrested last week. Maybe because I was working with other people. Maybe the police followed me. So now, I’m working by myself.
When I need partners, I go to the South American restaurants and I find them. I say please, give me a hand.
Yeah, arrested last week. I had to talk nice to the judge. She asked me, do you want to say something? I explained that I’m new in this country and it’s my first time. She believed me. She gave me a chance, said I can go. But I have to come back another day. A good judge will give you one chance because you have no precedent. She gave me 30 seconds, one minute to speak. I said I’m sorry, it’s my first time, I’m confused, please, I want one more chance. So I have to go back in one month. Then I will say the truth: yes, I took it, because I was confused. And I’ll say: forgive me. She’s going to ask me if I have a job and I’m going to say I’m working sometimes, I don’t have residency, but I’m working.
I was nervous in front of the judge because I could go to prison. But I’m not; and my partners also went free. But now I work alone.
Pedro’s easy identifier: crooked little fingers to do his crooked work.
I want to go back to my country. I’ve been to Spain, to Italy…. I hear the police in Barcelona are easy, and they’re harder here in Paris.
I can tell you about the police. The police here are smart, more professional. In Spain, they don’t do a good job. They don’t care. In Madrid, sometimes they say you have to pay 500, 300 euros, and you pay it, and you continue, and you pay and you continue. The life is good in Spain because it’s cheap, the country is cheap to live.
I’ve been to Copenhagen, Oslo, and Stockholm. I was in Stockholm for only two days a lot of years ago. I took big money, and then I took the train and, pssst! I left. Only two days there.
In Prague at the Charles Bridge crossing, pickpockets block their marks as they cross the street to slow them down.
Similar to the Prague pickpocket teams I’ve written about but even more sophisticated, was a South American gang regularly devastating an intersection on Fifth Avenue in New York City. A famous jewelry store on that corner mounted an offensive which starred several high-powered video cameras. The gang was made up of Jenny—the dip, three blockers, and a stall. They worked the intersection for hours at a time with brazen confidence and utter impunity. Each time Jenny made an illicit withdrawal, she counted the money in her hand—right out in the open—and divvied it up among her cohorts while crossing the street behind their victim. That way, NYPD Detective Crawford said, if accused, no single member would be carrying too much cash. Well, they might be, considering they made up to $8,000 per day, according to Crawford.
Jenny the pickpocket, in black, slips her hand under her victim’s jacket as he crosses a street. She is blocked on either side and behind by her blockers. She is not blocked from above, however!
Like the Prague gang, Jenny’s danced an intricate choreography practiced until it appeared effortless. Their maneuvers impeded the victims’ forward progress, but they often performed in motion as well, tightly clustered around a victim as they crossed the street together, Jenny with her hand groping in a pocket or purse, her assistants positioned to block the views of other pedestrians. They did not, however, block the view from above, where mounted surveillance cameras tracked them like hawks tracking mice. The gang was arrested and Jenny served three years in prison.
Theft by blocking
While impeding employs a brilliant strategy that is simplicity itself, an opportunity must present itself. Therefore, I consider it an avoidable theft. None of us need be victims of impeder-thieves. We’ve seen the impedance technique (theft by blocking) used at doorways, including bank and department store doors, at turnstiles, at the entries of trains and buses, and at already-existing bottlenecks on sidewalks. Prague’s Wenceslas Square has a beauty: a subway stairway in the middle of a sidewalk, which forces pedestrians into a narrow passage. Thieves are known to prey there. Revolving doors are also frequent settings, and there, the door itself does the impeding. A purse is snagged just as a woman disappears through the doorway, leaving her valuables exposed and she, stuck.
Bad picture, I know. But you can see Jenny the pickpocket, in black, and two of her blockers. She takes her time, keeping her hand under her victim’s jacket as he crosses a street.
Subcategories of theft by blocking include those who work on public transportation, which I discuss in Chapter Six [of Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams], and those who script their teams like 30-second plays, tight as a television commercial, which I expose in Chapter Seven. In all impedence thefts, though, three ingredients are required: a stall who hinders the victim, a dip who extracts the goods, and accessible valuables. In other words, it’s preventable.
Kharem, center, is a busy pickpocket in Barcelona.
Picking before picking
Some pickpockets, Angelo for example, rifle full speed through as many pockets and purses as possible in a tight crowd. That’s his M.O. Others, like Kharem in Barcelona, look for a good bet before taking chances. Kharem wanted to show us his talent. We had to hold him back.
Barcelona pickpocket Kharem guided us on a thief’s tour of La Rambla.
“Just point and talk,” Bob instructed him.
But he did more than that. Brazen and fearless, he actually tapped on men’s pockets as we fast-walked through the crowd. No one seemed to notice. Nobody gave him a second glance. Kharem, the professional thief, slipped in and out of strangers’ personal spheres like a gnat through a window screen.
How pickpockets pick victims
“Most important is to figure out where the money is. Pants, jacket, waist pouch, backpack. That man has a fat wallet in his jacket pocket,” the pickpocket said, while the would-be victim was still several yards away. “See how his jacket is hanging unevenly.” He swept his thumbtip across his forehead in that odd gesture of his.
“And this man,” Kharem touched the thigh of a stranger. “He has loose cash. Very good. Very easy.”
Christine boarded a train in Cologne, Germany, to travel to Frankfurt. Approaching her first class seat, she saw a man in the seat opposite hers with his head on his arms on the table, probably dozing.
Next, she noticed two young men walking in the aisle near her seat. Unconsciously, her mind flashed about the first guy: “What a handsome face.” Then: “Strange that he carries his stuff in a plastic grocery bag.” Then: “Yet he’s in the first class carriage.” Then, about the guy directly behind him: “Is that a USB cord dangling from the phone in his hand?”
All this before she even sat down.
Immediately then, her sleeping seatmate jerked awake and lunged for the handsome-faced guy.
The guy had grabbed the man’s phone, which had been plugged in, and the man had felt the cord pull away.
Theft on a train
Christine watched the two grapple and saw a beer bottle flailing wildly, beer spraying everywhere. She wondered if the beer bottle would become a weapon. She stood there, watching the men, not knowing if she should help physically or not, while the victim was screaming for the police. Seconds later, a pair of civil police officers jumped aboard and arrested the boy.
One officer handcuffed the boy and lead him off the train. The other settled in with the victim across the table from Christine. Christine was asked to be a witness, but she had to admit that she hadn’t seen the actual grab.
As the train pulled out of the station, the police officer took a statement from the victim, which is how Christine came to know certain details, for example, that the thief was from Morocco.
Christine did not know how the police managed to arrive within seconds, but I think I do. I believe the police had had an eye on the boy and had expected him to make a move like this. I believe they were trailing him (as Bob and I do when we’re thiefhunting) due to his behavior. Trains are favorite territory for thieves, and though some use diversion and strategy, many are simply of the grab-and-run variety. There is so much pickpocketing and bag-snatching on trains that many countries have dedicated train (or transport) police forces.
We, as passengers, simply need to practice safe stowage of our stuff to thwart the bulk of the theft. That means placing valuables in more protected places, and realizing that a train car is not a safe haven. Anyone can come aboard. Often, they don’t raise eyebrows as these young men did. Bad guys infiltrate our perceived refuges and have free rein, like a wolf in sheep’s clothes. Highly successful thieves look like lawyers, like businessmen, dressing the part, with polished shoes and handsome briefcases. Working with police as we do, we are privileged to see photos of many of these, but we are not allowed to post them.
The thief’s goal would have been to steal something and get off the train before it pulled out of the station, putting instant distance between him and his victim. Thieves are not rocket surgeons, however, and do not realize that their behavior highlights them in neon yellow to trained eyes.
Now here’s the irony: Christine is a television host. She was on her way to Rome to shoot a story on pickpockets, with us.
“Vic,” a pickpocket policeman from Xxxx, visiting Paris.
No, Bob Arno was not the thief in this incident.
It happened on the Paris Metro at the Chatelet station. The thief was a woman. The victim, a pickpocket policeman who, you might say, should have known better than to leave his wallet vulnerable. But, as Bob and I say, it can happen to anyone.
To prevent further embarrassment, I’ve promised to conceal the identity of the victim, so I will simply call him Vic, from an unnamed European country. It was his first visit to Paris (no excuse), and he hadn’t been in town more than two hours.
Bob and I had organized an international meeting of particularly passionate pickpocket police officers. We all converged in Paris early last month.
Vic and Officer GM, from Germany, landed simultaneously in Paris, and took a train together to Gare de Lyon, where they met up with Bob and the Paris pickpocket police officers. Now all of them rode the Metro—a whole gang of pickpocket police. Vic and GM dragged their small suitcases.
Pickpocket Pickpockets Pickpocket Policeman
The train stopped at Chatelet, only one station from Gare de Lyon. Chatelet is one of the Metro stations known for heavy pickpocket action. Out of habit, Bob and the officers stood on the train at the door, where they could keep an eye on people coming and going.
Vic and GM immediately spotted a pair of pickpockets, and kept their eyes on the thieves. (Police-style: not staring.) Vic was focused on what was happening in front of him and didn’t think that there were more thieves on the train. He didn’t pay attention to what was behind him. He had his back to the door, and his large frame blocked a portion of the other guys’ view. Just before the train pulled out of the station, GM caught a glimpse of a perp and saw her dash away, stowing a wallet. The train doors closed. GM had not seen who she stole it from. He did not for a second think the victim was his fellow officer. Since the pickpocket was gone, he didn’t mention anything to the others. The police gang rode on, still in the midst of making one another’s acquaintance.
Checking into the hotel, Vic reached for his satchel to get his wallet. The wallet was gone. It was a large-format, European-style wallet; too big for a back pocket. (Not a safe place to keep a wallet anyway, especially on public transportation.) In a cold sweat, Vic did an instantaneous inventory of the wallet’s contents. 250 euros. His driver’s license. His credit cards. His annual train pass. His passport. His police identification card.
Surrounded by his pickpocket police pals in the hotel lobby, Vic couldn’t hide the shameful fact. Without identification or a method of payment, he couldn’t even get his hotel room. Suddenly, Vic understood the humiliation and helplessness felt by the pickpocket victims he assisted. Despite his steep loss and embarrassment, he saw the experience as beneficial to his job. Vic is a happy and optimistic man, who always recognizes silver linings. “I’m always able to find some lesson from misfortune, and I don’t mind admitting my own mistakes,” he told me. With loans from his friends, he took the incident in stride and laughed about the irony.
Vic’s wallet, stolen and returned
Around dinnertime, Vic received great news: his wallet had been found, all documents intact, only the cash missing. Thanks to his police ID, his police station had been notified. His colleagues knew he was with the Paris police and notified them. Paris police contacted their pickpocket specialists, who were with Vic. The wallet was in his hands by morning.
All of these anti-pickpocket professionals were chagrined. Thiefhunters all, each felt he should have noticed the perp and prevented the theft. While there isn’t a valid excuse for Vic’s own lapse, there is a bit of an explanation. The group, or at least part of the group, appeared to be tourists, and tourists are the pickpockets’ favorite target. The men spoke a mixture of German and English, not French, the local language. GM and Vic had luggage, like tourists. And, here’s the pivotal fact: Vic’s shoulder bag had briefly swung to his back, where it was vulnerable.
“At the right time, the right place, the right moment, anyone can become a victim of theft, ” Vic said. Anyone can lose focus for a few seconds, be distracted, or let a bag swing out of sight. Even a pickpocket policeman.
A moment at risk; just seconds unprotected. That’s all it takes.
July 26th, 2015 was a typical hot summer day in Rome. My family and I decided to visit the Bhorgese Museum on the north end of the city. Having thoroughly enjoyed the gallery and garden, we made our way to Spagna metro stop to pick up the A line to back to the center of Rome.
This is when it got interesting. There was a throng of people waiting to get on the train. All of the warning signs were there that this was a pickpocketer’s dream. As we pushed through the doorway like some giant human amoeba, I recalled feeling a slight brush; a nudge, a hand, a map being pushed against me. Whatever it was, it made me instinctively put my hand on my iphone in my left pocket.
Pickpocket Foiled
Imagine my surprise to find someone else’s fingers firmly levitating my iphone. I turned to the left and pushed back against the mousey devil behind me and told him to keep his hand off my phone. Sure enough, I noticed he had been poking an old tourist map at my waist, attempting to conceal his bad intentions.
I felt a surge of adrenaline and indignation, as I loudly proclaimed our fellow passenger a pickpocket, to which, all turned and gazed upon him (awkward moment).
Still bothered by his trickery, I thought to myself, time for a close-up picture of my failed pickpocketer friend. This, of course, made him uncomfortable. I noticed that he attempted to cover his face with the map. Leaving no doubt about his mal intent, he rapidly exited the train at the next stop to a smattering of applause.
I felt vindicated and empowered—He had failed! He picked the wrong target. Though I looked the part of average tourist with my baseball cap on, I’m probably the worst person to try this foolishness with. You see, I have spent the last 25 years studying the subtle details of those molecular pickpockets, Viruses, which take over cells that they slip into. I’m used to analyzing every last detail about small things.
He couldn’t have known that he picked the wrong guy. But since he is just like the viruses that I study, I couldn’t help but have many questions about this fellow; How? Why? Does he feel any moral dilemma with his craft? I even felt a bit of a thrill after foiling my pickpocketer. No doubt, I enjoy this high-stakes game. I’m ready to troll for the next one when I’m in Rome again.
Dr. Virus
P.S. Love your website. Keep it up. If the Rome Police won’t do anything about it, at least we can expose the threat. I think the best thing to do is to take pictures of these people and post them online.
Nuncio, the “businessman” pickpocket, on a tram in Naples
Trust me…
The gentlemen thief of the strategist variety is a consummate con man. By design, he thwarts suspicion and earns his intended victim’s confidence by his dress and demeanor. He puts on respectability and trustworthiness as if they were a jacket and tie, then garnishes the look with manners and decorum, like cufflinks and a spit-shine. But his garments are mere costumes, uniforms donned for gainful occupation, flimsy facades contrived to trick us into allowing him access to our spheres.
How can one beware the wolf in sheep’s clothing? It’s our nature to trust first, suspect later; and it’s darn difficult to overcome our nature. We almost always give the benefit of the doubt, assume one is innocent until proven guilty. Especially in a foreign country—where we’re ignorant of the local customs—we hesitate to doubt a motive for fear of offending.
Cynicism is an unnatural state for a traveler who has come far to experience a new land and unfamiliar traditions. We arrive prepared to embrace our local hosts, however alien or exotic they seem to us. After all, it’s their country. We want to like them. Yet, we don’t know how to read these foreigners, even though they may seem just like us. We can’t always interpret their body language, their facial expressions, their gestures. Neither do we recognize their outsiders. We’re at a distinct disadvantage as tourists and travelers, due to our nature as much as our innocence. How then, can we be alert to that insidious impostor?
The claveleras use whatever aggression is required to give their flower gifts.
Bob Arno and I are loath to imply that strangers cannot be trusted; most can. Yet, for every crook and scoundrel we meet, for every victim’s story we hear, we feel ourselves harden. Our antennas get longer, our trust diminishes. We advise: protect your sphere. Don’t let a stranger penetrate your personal space. Suspect the unknown person who suddenly wants to be your friend—the stranger who wants your confidence.
The strategist pickpockets are clever. Unlike the opportunists who wait for a lucky chance, the strategists create their own opportunities, and make participants of their victims. You, the savvy traveler, will simply refuse to participate.
That requires the intentional cultivation of your under-developed kernel of cynicism, growing it until, at least, it is large enough and accessible enough to kick in when needed. That would be just when the deal-that’s-too-good-to-be-true finds you; the moment you are offered a free flower, and when approached by pseudo-cops (fake police), bucket bandits, and sandwich thieves (who do not steal sandwiches). “Look over there!” Ha-ha, got your goodies!
The pigeon poop pickpocket.
Deception in Thievery
Deceptive pickpockets and con artists are skilled in the art of social engineering. They develop (and clone) strategies to trick you into making your valuables available. They perform tiny plays, micro-choreographed from intricate scripts, in which you are a participant. Meet the smartphone thieves, magicians in their class. The whole act is over in an instant or two. There’s no applause, but if the thief has done well, he’s got something better. And then it’s “exit, stage left.”
Especially devious are those I call the pigeon poop perps. These thieves surreptitiously dirty their victims, empathetically point out the stain, then volunteer to clean it off. Unsurprisingly, they’re armed with a bottle of water and tissues—tools of their trade. As they clean them off, they clean them out, in one variation or another. And the victims? They allowed that stranger to touch them all over—brilliant!
There’s nothing like a thieving good samaritan to erode one’s faith in humanity.
Pinstripe-wearing pickpocket works while his accomplice, in the background, looks into our camera.
Birds and their excrement seem to figure frequently in the world of street thievery. While pigeon pooping is unrelated to pigeon dropping—a scam in which greed trumps logic over found money—both require a gull, someone easily tricked or cheated, a dupe, a person who is gullible. When we hear about people taken in pigeon drop scams, Bob and I wonder how anyone could be so naive. Yet these swindles proliferate relentlessly, constantly reinvented to suck in the greedy. Beware: someone, somewhere, has devised a pigeon drop just for you.
Con artists who practice the pigeon drop and the bait-and-switch and all the many variants of these scams are the epitome of their label. They are the ultimate confidence men, both seeking and pretending to offer the trust of a stranger. We’re in this together, they intimate. It may be wrong, but it’s you and me against the bad guys. Pavement wager gamers who run the three-shell game and three-card-monte rely on their shills to inspire confidence while they promise the chance of easy money. As the victims of these con artists count cash into the hands of their covert tricksters, they expect to receive value for money. They expect to get rich, get a killer deal, win big.
The moral of con artist story might be if it seems too good to be true, run! But greed drives the victims of these cons, and greed trumps reason. For the con men, that spells advantage: because a gull blinded by greed is a victim indeed.
Poor us—we’re pretty much trained to trust first, doubt later. We have a definite deficit in the cynicism department. And that’s no contest against the deceptive thieves.
