Italians petition against “Pickpocket King” documentary

A small street in Naples' Quartieri Spagnoli
A small street in Naples' Quartieri Spagnoli
A small street in Naples’ Quartieri Spagnoli

In Naples, Italy, media reports concerning our upcoming National Geographic pickpocket documentary have stirred up serious controversy. A large number of citizens have become upset, despite not having seen the film. More than a thousand have signed a petition demanding that the program not be broadcast this Sunday, September 25, in Italy.

The petitioners believe that the film will give Naples a bad reputation. (Uh, Naples already has a certain reputation, folks.) Whether broadcast in Italy or not, the documentary, Pickpocket King, will play in the rest of the world, with most countries airing it between now and the end of the year.

A reader called “Oceanus ngo” has posted a comment on our documentary announcement page as follows:

Naples deserves much more treatment and attention from the NG. The “documentary” shot with the help of actors is detrimental to the image of Naples from the title, but rather affirms the false! According to ministry data Napoli is not in any way being the first city in number of pickpockets! A giant transmitting information such as the NG this “documentary” yet another deal, free low blow to the city of Naples to zero the work of active citizenship and associations that try to do every day out of Naples, a new image, the true, that of a big, beautiful capital of Europe is unique in the world! Among the many, even our work, our tribute to the City of Naples, to which we have dedicated an entire project “Another Naples” http://www.oceanus.it/it/progetti/another-naples.html Here following the first 1000 signatures collected in less than three days, from September 23 to 20 at night, to ask the non-airing of the “documentary” National Geographic “Naples, the King of pickpockets” scheduled for Sunday, September 25, 2011.

I have pruned the 1,023 petitioners’ names from the post.

Bob and I want to emphasize that we adore the city of Naples (from a visitor’s perspective, of course). While shooting the documentary we made a conscious effort (easily accomplished) to highlight the beauty and charm of Naples.

Afterwards, in the editing room, the filmmaking team of director, producer, and editors had a story to tell and a finite number of minutes in which to tell it. Sadly, much great stuff was cut which portrayed the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. As always after a successful “shoot,” all parties to the making of the documentary were disappointed to see the loss of this fantastic scene or that poignant image because ruthless editing was required.

Here, Bob Arno replies to Oceanus ngo and the issues raised:

Hello Oceanus ngo. Thanks for sharing your concerns. We are not representatives of National Geographic, and we have no influence as to the program’s title. I even doubt that its head office has editorial input in the marketing of its programs outside the United States.

While I cannot address your dismay over the title, I would like to comment on a more sensitive point: the prevalence of pickpocketing in Naples compared to other European cities.

Real pickpocket statistics are impossible to acquire anywhere. First, how do you define “pickpocketing?” Tearing a handbag off a shoulder from a scooter? Ripping off a Rolex? A wallet or passport cleverly extracted from a fanny pack on a bus?

Official statistics are based on police reports. Reports tend to fall into multiple categories. We’ve written extensively about all this here.

We have spent considerable time researching Naples, actually in Naples, every year for the past 18 years. We research many, many other cities as well.

In the summer months, Naples has more cruise ship visitors than hotel guests. How likely is it that a typical cruise ship passenger experiences a theft in Naples, versus in St. Petersburg, Barcelona, or Istanbul? All these cities have pickpocketing at various level, and all cater to cruise ship passengers.

This brief reply is not the forum to explain all the complicated details of statistics. The majority of travelers, and especially those who visit this blog, are more interested in intriguing anecdotes of various cons and scams, and how to protect themselves when traveling abroad.

Here is a summarization of my thoughts regarding this Sunday’s broadcast:

1. Generally, only 30% (or fewer) of victims ever bother to visit a police station to report a theft, and even fewer cruise passengers because their ships usually depart at four or five p.m. A rule of thumb: there are usually 70% more incidents than statistics show.

2. Some cities “massage” these reports even further for various reasons. I do not know what the official daily or weekly counts are in Naples. There may be a political agenda, for example, requesting more funds for police; or the opposite, less money for law enforcement.

3. A large number of tourists who “visit Naples” head straight out of town for Pompeii, Capri, and the Amalfi Coast—cruise ship passengers, for example. While these tourists have officially “visited Naples,” they have not strolled around town. Of those who do experience the charm of the streets of Naples, and especially of those who brave public transportation, the proportion of pickpocket incidents is higher than in any other city we have researched (and we have researched many around the world). This conclusion is based on our constant survey of visitors to Naples, the number of pickpockets we have observed “at work” and interviewed, and the vast number of times we have been pickpocketed ourselves (sometimes several times in a single day). Granted, our wallet is empty for the sake of research, but we do not make it easy for or tempt pickpockets. We simply behave as any tourists.

4. Some cities with pickpocketing problems have used more draconian legal maneuvers to fight the crime. For example: in Paris video cameras are mounted on train platforms coupled with new legal statutes. In France, it is now a crime for a pickpocket (who already has one conviction) to begin even the first step in a sequence of moves to extract a wallet, such as “fanning,” which is brushing against the victim’s pockets to establish where the money is.

Professional pickpockets even have their own lists of cities where they like to visit in order to practice their “art.” Barcelona is number one in pickpocket-preference, because of the ineffective legal system. Paris, on the other hand is now disliked because of the cameras and the new law.

5. Compared to other Italian cities, for example Rome or Bologna, an uninformed visitor stands a higher chance of a pickpocket confrontation in a concentrated area, including on local transportation. That the skill of Naples’ pickpockets is exceptionally high. We say this after having witnessed in excess of 500 pickpocketing incidents around the world.

6. The double-threat of pickpocketing coupled with credit card fraud is not high in Naples. “Shoulder-surfing” and breaking of credit card pin codes is higher in other cities. It is the actual extraction skill and success rate that is exceptionally high in Naples.

7. Media across Europe and especially travel companies always warn their travelers to be very careful when visiting Napoli. This is a reputation gained over many years of visitors returning home with unfortunate experiences. It is also true that Napoli today has regained a reputation as a fun city with energy and flair.

We, personally, consider Naples one of the most charming cities in Europe. An absolute “must see” for any traveler; the restaurants, the shopping, the old city, the waterfront, the coffee shops, the great historical sites, the extension of the Amalfi coast, side trips to Capri and the unbelievable warmth of the people—its friendliness!

Yes, an entire program could be made about the pulse of the city and its people. But is there a “will” to clean up the criminal mess? It will take a monstrous effort, a strong focus on correcting a certain social malaise, and the re-education of those who are still in the quagmire of criminal activity. We’re back to money and available funds in a time when all of Europe is contracting.

Nobody wants to hear what two outsiders like ourselves have to say about the measures which are necessary. You have your own experts. But I am confident that if you can direct sufficient energy into giving the hundred or so professional pickpockets in Naples opportunities for new jobs, you would be able to clean up the image of Naples within two years. Expose the problem and offer alternatives. Others might say: why help these bastards?

8. The Italian media in Napoli has mentioned (in the few articles we have managed to read) that the program depended on actors and that it is not a true documentary. This is not so. I have not seen the Italian version of the program, so I cannot speak with absolute authority on this matter. But I can say that, apart from a short demonstration of bag-snatching from a motor-scooter, there are no actors. There is also a short segment in which two former pickpockets are interviewed and asked to re-enact some moves. They are not actors either. Since they gave up pickpocketing to find new careers, they also hoped for small parts in movies. Hopefully this will happen for them.

Their parts are brief, and the film does not concentrate on their action, or their participation. All the other pickpockets in this documentary are themselves; not actors, but professional thieves. I have seen some of them “working” trams and buses over a ten-year period.

If those in Naples who are fortunate enough to have a stable job and income are concerned that National Geographic will cast an ugly image upon their beloved city, I say they are wrong. This documentary does not portray Naples as especially dangerous or threatening. It simply follows my hunt for a specific individual, and shows how I then “connect” with his team.

One might say that I am “fooling” the thieves—our term is “social engineering”—because our ultimate goal is to educate the world on the methods of skilled pickpockets. The outcome, after watching a film like this one, is that the viewer will better understand how to behave when traveling, and how to avoid the unfortunate incidents they will never forget. In that endeavor we are extremely successful. Far more so than the police. We make people aware—through this platform, through books, and through stage presentations in which we mix “reality” with comedy show-business. The lasting impression is one that is never forgotten. We have literally thousands of thank-you notes to prove the success of our campaign.

Sincerely,
Bob Arno

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

My book of thieves now available for Kindle!

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

I’m thrilled to announce the availability of my book, Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams on Amazon for the Kindle. Only $9.99!
On iTunes.
And of course, the hardcover edition is still available.

Book blurbs:

Unsuspecting travelers face an obstacle course of pickpockets, scams, cons, and rip-offs. In the places people love to visit most, the authors find, follow, film, and interview the thieves who target travelers. Why do the criminals spill their guts? What do they say? And how can we avoid their trickery? Based on ten years of trekking through paradise with hidden cameras, Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams explores the risks, exposes the methods and motivations of the perpetrators, and teaches travelers how to avoid becoming a victim. With 60 color photos.

A few reviews from Amazon.com

By George H. Sutherland—(Paradise Valley, AZ USA) – See all my reviews

This book is simply amazing in providing what many books on the subject do not and cannot, because most writers do not have the depth and breadth of personal knowledge required. Bambi Vincent & Bob Arno have done an extraordinary amount of research, covering many countries over many years. The wealth of details gives the reader what are possibly the best weapons against the many cons covered in this extensive advisory – education and awareness. … [It’s long.]

By Randy Given—(Manchester, CT USA) – See all my reviews

After reading some brief articles online, I was wondering how a whole book could be made out of the subject without getting really dry. This book managed that. Lots of ideas (to watch out for!) and very interesting reading. I’ll definitely be more prepared and already used some ideas on my recent four trips.

By Allan M. Gathercoal “fdoamerica”—(Norcross, GA) – See all my reviews

Most of the time, especially when traveling, paranoia is good!
I have traveled extensively internationally for the last 15 years and consider myself travel savvy. Recently, in Peru, I have been robbed of my passport, camera, credit card and ultimately, my peace of mind. This robbery happened in broad daylight, 100 yards from a policeman (in Peru the police are known for their collaboration with criminals and their corruption). If I would have read “Travel Advisory” before this trip, I am sure I would have been more vigilant, yes, more paranoid. Thus, I would have correctly thought, in a paranoid way: I am “fresh meat” among unseen predators.

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

H&R Block reneges on promise, cops-out on client

H&R Block reneges on promise

When a giant corporation closes its shutters and bolts its doors against its own client, its like a reverse prison. I, the client, feel like a tiny, pesky ant searching for a chink in the fortress wall so I can shout in my small voice: “hear me, and respond without boilerplate.” I’m almost deafened by the fortress’s PA system which occasionally blares “NO. JUST NO.”

The fortress does not spend time formulating thoughtful replies or building strong arguments. Those mundane activities are not necessary for fortresses, which have shutters, boltable doors, huge legal departments, and very large boots for squashing pesky ants.

All this over $725.

Come to think of it, $725 is exactly the average fee I’ve paid H&R Block for tax preparation each year for the past ten years. (I don’t have handy our prior twenty years’ fees.)

H&R Block is using bully tactics. Its M.O. is to stand impenetrable and unresponsive while its clients exhaust themselves arguing H&R Block’s arbitrary defenses.

Apologies. I have not allowed this blog to become a platform for personal complaints. But wait a minute. The theme of Thiefhunters in Paradise is thieves, thugs, and gangsters… So this report fits.

H&R Block reneges on promise

Continue reading

Our National Geographic documentary “Pickpocket King”

Naples pickpockets dinner party pickpocket king national geographic documentary
dinner-with-thieves-4
Dinner with thieves

Bob and I are thrilled to announce the world premiere of the documentary we shot late last year with National Geographic. Pickpocket King features us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent, as “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets.

National Geographic has just posted a clip. [As of October 9, the clip is no longer available.]

In the film, stage pickpocket Bob Arno faces off against a gang of the world’s best criminal pickpockets. The thieves demonstrate their trickiest (and most lucrative) steals. Bob and Bambi are invited to a splendid dinner with thieves, where lively thefts intersperse the endless courses.

The #1 pickpocket’s conclusion: “Bob. You and I do the same thing, but you make people laugh. I make them cry.”

The documentary’s international premiere begins this month, region by region and week by week. Watch for it in your local listing. I will post schedules as I receive them.

AND, I will soon republish the series of behind-the-scenes, making-of posts I wrote during the shoot.

Edit: Watch the entire National Geographic documentary, Pickpocket King.

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

The Heart of a Thief

Kharem and Bambi
heart of a thief: Kharem and Bambi
Kharem and Bambi

Does a pickpocket keep his appointments? Bob and I loitered on a corner with our interpreter. We were a unanimously doubtful trio already considering alternative plans for the day.

We’d found Kharem a week ago, almost a year after we first met him.

“Kharem!” I’d said, and his jaw dropped.

“Nice lady. You remember my name. I am honored.” He swept his thumbtip against his forehead, fingers fisted, in a quick, subtle gesture.

Heart of a Thief

Absolutely punctual, Kharem approached now with a smile and the thumbthing, that curious salute of his. He was immaculately dressed in a short-sleeved button-down shirt, white pants, suede loafers, and the inevitable tool over his arm: the jacket. We introduced him to our friend Ana, our interpreter for the day, and teased him about his punctuality.

“I wasn’t working today; I came straight from home. That’s why.”

We settled around the same table we used the week before and reminded ourselves and Ana to keep our voices down.

“What happens when you’re caught, Kharem?”

“When I’m caught, the police usually beat me up and take my money. It’s not bad because I won’t have to go to jail. Jail is like death. One hour of being there and I feel dead.” He signaled for a waiter.

“How long have you spent in jail?”

“Many times.”

“But how much time altogether?”

Kharem smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. He raised both index fingers and gestured as if conducting an orchestra.

“He won’t say,” said Ana. “I think he means let’s move on to something else.”

“Do you think the police recognize your face?”

“Yes, they do. But they know I never hurt any one. My crime is small. I’m not getting millions of euros. I’m not rich. I don’t have a drug habit to support…” He went on in Arabic-tinged Spanish.

“He seems to feel almost justified in what he’s doing,” Ana said, amazed. “He’s talking about the police who take his money, the politicians who get away with so much and never go to jail. And other financial… what do you call it?”

“White collar crime?”

“Yes, and that he never hurts people.”

Our drinks arrived: espresso for Bob and me, a beer for Kharem, a soda for Ana. Kharem passed the sugar and distributed napkins to each of us from an overpacked dispenser.

“How are you treated in jail?”

“It’s not pleasant. Look at my finger.” Kharem showed the mangled third finger of his right hand. “A guard did this to me. He handed me some papers and when I reached for them, he slammed shut the cell door. It was clearly intentional.”

He brightened. “Last Sunday, after we parted, I got a wallet with 1,000 euros. I used the postcards to do it.”

“Ah, no wonder you’re not working today. You took the whole week off!” I joked.

“No, I used that money to pay some fines. When I’ve paid them all, my record will be clear.”

“Do you save any money?”

“No. When I get enough, I pay my fines.”

“How will you ever get ahead?” Bob asked. “What about your future? What will you do when you’re old?”

“Who knows about the future. No one knows what will be tomorrow, anything could happen.” He reached to move a strand of windblown hair from my face, a gesture I found overly familiar, almost forward. “I live only for today. I live like a bird.” Thumb salute. “I am free.”

“What is this thing you do with your thumb?” I asked, copying the move.

“It means ‘good.’”

“I’ve never seen it before. Is it Algerian? Or Lebanese?”

“Combination,” he said dismissively, so I gave up.

“Did you go to school?”

“I can read and I can write. What more do I need of education?”

“What do you do when you’re not working,” I asked. “Do you have a passion for something?”

“I write poetry.”

“What about?”

“Freedom. Love. Family. Living like a bird.”

“Will you recite one for us?”

“They are in Arabic. I cannot.”

“Do you have family here in Barcelona?”

“No, I have no one. I have no friends. I am not allowed in France, where my daughter is. I haven’t seen my mother and father in 17 years and my brothers are dead. These are the people I love. If I cannot see my family, why should I see anyone? They are my friends. They are the ones I love.”

He did the thumbthing and smiled with his mouth but not his eyes.

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

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

At a thief’s home

Paccheri pasta, prepared by the pickpocket's wife.
Paccheri pasta
Paccheri pasta, prepared by the pickpocket’s wife.

The shouting at dinner surprised me. It was like the stereotypical Italian dinner: loud and full of gesturing, standing up and leaning forward, voices rising over other voices and at the same time everyone is putting more food on each others’ plates.

But we were talking about the steal business—about pickpocketing—and the window was wide open. All the neighbors could certainly hear us discussing the thievery profession. Anyone within a block could hear.

Yet, the thief’s ten-year-old twins were farmed out for the evening to shield them from talk of daddy’s job. How could they not know if all the neighbors and passers-by hear about it?

Okay, so you now know we were in Italy. Well, it’s a big country. I’m giving you this much.

It was a nice apartment, neat and spotless. Two computers, huge flat-screen TV, dishwasher, even a Vitamix-type appliance for the serious cook. A dust-free collection of miniature silver clocks was displayed on dark wood shelves below the good china—for more important guests, I presume.

Our host maneuvered gamely at the kitchen counter, clearly not used to practicing the culinary arts. He sliced a fresh peach into a pitcher of white wine while explaining that the business was much easier ten years ago. Things are changing in this town. Younger plainclothes cops have joined the force; they’re more aggressive and harder to spot.

Thief's dinner

Mrs. Pickpocket had prepared a feast for us. Mozzarella balls, prosciutto on melon, hunks of provolone, olives, gorgeous crusty bread, marinated anchovies, octopus salad, cold eggplant… and that was just the antipasti. She had opened her polished wood table to seat all nine of us.

The home was ordinary—only noteworthy for its means of support. For twenty years, the family breadwinner has financed it all out of other people’s wallets.

Except when he’s in prison, of course. Then it all falls to his wife, who’ll get a job—or a couple of jobs—cooking, cleaning, whatever she has to do. Not easy in a town with perennial sky-high unemployment.

The thief used his skillful hands to grate the parmesan while his handsome wife brought out the pasta. Very al dente paccheri with a delicate sauce I think she called King Ferdinand. She learned to make it when she worked as a cook.

Another pickpocket was at the table with us—best friend and partner of our host. He’d brought his glamorous blond wife, who busied herself clearing plates and serving as if the kitchen were her own. As a couple, the two looked like any professionals you’d see at the bank on lunch hour. In fact, they’d had a life on the law’s side. A 30-year legit career had morphed into outright thievery. “I’ll explain how that happened next time we meet,” he told us.

Thief's house dinner

The men kept hopping up to wash and reuse all the dishes and silverware between courses. Everyone except Bob and I and our translator smoked continuously. Thick slices of cold roast beef and chilled carrot puree came out long after Bob and I were fully satisfied.

“Sometimes police see us at work and look the other way,” our criminal friend explained. His handsome face looks almost angelic from some angles. Then I see something hard around his archer-bow mouth. Just nerves? Tension? “The police know there are no jobs here and that we have families to feed.”

Interesting! I had always assumed that cops looking the other way meant payoffs and corruption. The humanitarian possibilities hadn’t occurred to me.

A giant cream-topped baba cake was sliced for dessert, and tiny glasses of limoncello, a lemon liqueur, were poured. It was after midnight by the time we were drinking espresso and told not to worry, we’d sleep just fine.

I won’t bore you, readers, with technical talk of the pilfering profession. The evening was long and jovial, loud and serious, sad and enlightening. As I said in To Like a Pickpocket, we are conflicted in our relationship with this thief. One can’t suppress affection if that feeling exists.

This man comes from a world so different from ours. It’s not just his profession that is the inverse of ours; his country, his temperament, his education are all antithetical. Yet, on a baser level, a human level, we want the same things, feel the same emotions, have the same needs. If you pay attention, you see through a fake smile. And you recognize a real hug.

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

The pickpocket’s invitation

The pickpocket must remain unidentified for now. Last year, he let Bob go for a spin on his bike.
The pickpocket must remain unidentified for now. Last year, he let Bob go for a spin on his bike.
The pickpocket must remain unidentified for now. Last year, he let Bob go for a spin on his bike.

With nervousness and excitement, we are preparing to visit the home of one of those controversial figures: the thief you hate to love. Bob and I have completely fallen for his warmth and charm. True, he did steal Bob’s wallet about a year ago; we can’t deny his filthy profession. We’d certainly find it harder to like the man had the wallet been full of cash and credit cards. As it happened, the thief stole our prop wallet which was stuffed with cut paper.

We had observed him as he and his crew boarded the bus we were already riding. We looked away as the threesome crowded around us. We understood that they were unnecessarily close—the bus was not full.

Even with his focus solely on sensing the suspects and hypertuned to his butt pocket, Bob did not feel the steal. They were that good.

We suspected from their behavior that they got it. Bob slid his hand across his empty pocket and said to me “Yep.” I knew what he meant. We followed the trio off the bus at the next stop.

That’s when we met. It was last September, during the filming of our upcoming documentary, in that foreign city I’m asked to leave unidentified for now. (Expected broadcast: October 2011.) Something clicked right away between Bob and the pickpocket. They’ve been corresponding by email ever since.

Why have they bonded? Bob Arno is a straight-laced American Swede reluctant to jaywalk, an introvert who maintains his gray matter and circulatory system at a low temperature. The pickpocket is a charismatic scoundrel and a gregarious, hot-blooded free spirit. Both men are calculating manipulators in their different ways. The introvert’s shell is cracked by the beguiling rogue. The crook swoons at the attention of someone from the other side. It’s symbiotic, but I’m not sure how.

Google Translate is a godsend but the human translations we get are amazing. People who read for us wipe away a tear, hug their own goosefleshed arms, and exclaim about the man’s writing. He has a special way of expressing himself, they say; he turns a beautiful phrase; he is poetic.

We’ve set the pickpocket the task of writing his life story, bit by bit. He’s off to a promising start. We hope to help him publish an autobiography. Neither we nor he know where this might lead.

His grammar is far from perfect. He doesn’t use any capital letters or the return key for new paragraphs. He didn’t spend many years in school and has never before tried to express himself in writing. Not only is he good so far, but he’s loving it. He feels a hidden talent has been unlocked. For that, no matter what comes of it, he thanks Bob.

We are preparing to travel far to meet him in a few days. We have engaged an expensive translator—someone we know, and know is good. Someone who is on our side, and will not color the conversation.

A dinner is planned. It will be in the home of the pickpocket. His wife is a good cook, we’re told. It will be a party. Other thieves will attend, some of whom we already know. Who else will be there?

We’ll arrive at the thieves’ den with generous hostess gifts. Also with video and audio recording equipment, and probably a laptop. Much can go wrong.

As always, one of us is a little nervous and insists on precautions. The other is confident, relaxed, eager. I’ll report back shortly…

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

To like a pickpocket

like a pickpocket

The life of a pickpocket might seem to be an easy one. Want money? Just take it. Need more? Pick a tourist from the endless stream.

It’s not that simple. The ratio of successful attempts to failures depends upon the practitioner, as does the number of butterflies in the stomach. Apprehension is both what he fears and what he feels. Most pickpockets we’ve met have spent years in prison, have paid hefty fines, have been roughed up by victims and police, have quit the business, and have gone back to it.

Many despise what they do and wish to make an honest living. What holds them back? Local unemployment levels. Lack of education. Lack of skills. Criminal records. Illegal residence status. Low earning potential compared to status quo.

The job has redeeming factors, aside from the obvious downside. Work the days and hours you choose. No boss to answer to. (Or you might have one, in an organized crime gang.) Overtime whenever you want it. No taxes to pay.

To like a pickpocket

Strangely, it is possible to like these guys, despite knowing what they do for a living. Despite understanding the damage and upset they cause. Like you and me, there’s more to the pickpocket than his job. Wait! I’m not defending his choice of livelihood! I’m suggesting (as we already know) that there’s more to a man (or woman) than his job. Anyone know a debt collector? An email spammer? A telephone solicitor? A drug dealer? A lobbyist? A billboard doctor?

You might get to know (and like) someone before learning the despicable (in your opinion) job he does. You might get to know and like a person whose job you do find contemptible. We judge the morality and integrity of people around us, of people in the news, and sometimes glimpse more shadiness than in any pickpocket.

At a certain age, usually 45 or so, pickpockets tire of the carousel: the highs of walking away with a wallet, the lows of prison time, the ecstasy of acquiring a thick wad, the anxiety of looking over their shoulders. Their kids growing up without them while they’re on the road following the crowds at big events, or while they’re “in the box.” They want to quit. But they’re at a loss as to what to do. What can they do? Who will hire them?

We (and some big-hearted police officers we know) have tried to assist a few of these guys. We’ve put ourselves on the line for them. spent time, effort, and money trying to get them a jump start on a new life. We’ve believed them. We’ve seen them off on the right track. It never works.

Or it hasn’t so far. But we can’t give up. We get to know another thieving criminal with potential, with desire, with hope and hopelessness, and we’re taken in. Suckers for the con, maybe.

But here we go again. More in the next post.

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

Thievery in motion

Two pickpockets look back at their angry intended victim.
Two pickpockets look back at their angry intended victim.

The foot of Charles Bridge, in Prague, is alive with movement. People come and go, lounging and looking, snapping pictures, sipping sodas, eager not to miss a thing on their own personal agendas. Souvenir kiosks attract tight knots of tourists who admire glass animals, wooden puppets, and mad-hatter hats. The corner concert hall, advertising afternoon Mozart recitals, employs a pair of mimes to pass out pamphlets and harass the public.

Bob and I were staking out a pair of well-dressed women with two teenage boys. One of the women carried a blazer slung over one shoulder. As we surreptitiously observed the foursome, we pantomimed the restless and fidgety movements of people waiting for tardy friends, impatiently glancing at our watches and scanning the streets. Simultaneously, we strained to see over and around the milling mob.

The team showed us thievery in motion. As pedestrians waited to cross, the young boys, the stalls, positioned themselves in front of the target victim chosen by the women. The light changed, the crowd surged, and—

Two tousle-headed whitefaces were thrust under our noses. Painted lips grinned over ruffled collars. The pesky mimes had snuck up on us and began to make a scene, flitting around us like butterflies. They mimicked our waiting charade, tapping their toes and drumming their fingers on air. Unaware that theirs was a copy of a copy, the duo performed their inauthentic imitation with self-satisfaction. The pickpocket team crossed the street while the mimes were in our faces, blocking our view and making a nuisance of themselves.

We needn’t have worried about missing the demonstration; we were treated to numerous repetitions of the same choreography. A new crowd of pedestrians gathered and the team members took up their places. With the boys positioned in front of their chosen, the women closed in behind the mark. When the light changed, the boys stepped off the curb, then hesitated—stalled—causing the mark to bump into them. The women naturally crashed into the mark and, in the moment of physical contact, dipped into the victim’s pocket.

Over half an hour, as they repeated their scripted moves, the two women occasionally lifted their heads to scan the crowd but, for the most part, they laughed, chatted, and gently scolded the boys as they worked. They appeared as natural and at ease as every other individual on the square, and possessed the intersection as confidently as did the mimes. Nothing would give them away to the casual observer, unless one noticed that they never left the intersection. What tourist, or local for that matter, crosses and recrosses the same street, again and again?

I used the words choreography and scripted moves, which usually do not apply to opportunists. While this outfit utilized a minor strategy, I wouldn’t call them strategists. They went for the easy marks, made many efforts, and had a high rate of failure. They didn’t invest much in each set-up and were rarely noticed by a newly replenished crowd.

The two women at left are pickpockets. The two boys at right are their stalls. The woman at center was the intended victim.
The two women at left are pickpockets. The two boys at right are their stalls. The woman at center was the intended victim.

Often, the team targeted women with large handbags. Under the cover of the jacket-tool, they delicately dipped and groped for treasure. We saw them get nabbed twice in that half hour. Once, when they crossed late, the foursome got stuck on the narrow median strip with their victim. Trapped together, the victim and her husband accused the women in German. Cars, trucks, and trams careened wildly around them. Appearing frustrated, the victim repeatedly opened the flap of her own bag, demonstrating what she knew the two women had done. The thieves pretended ignorance and refused to respond.

When the light finally changed and the opponents were freed from their traffic island prison, they stormed off in opposite directions. Bob and I caught up with the victim and learned that nothing had been stolen. But she had felt a hand in her purse. She was alert, she was quick, and she was furious.

So many gangs like these prey on visitors to Prague that, combined with well-known taxi scams and restaurant overcharges, the city’s reputation for tourism has been seriously damaged.

Group tour leader Graham Bell, of London, traveled to Prague with a group of 21. Of those, nine were pickpocketed. Nine who left themselves open to opportunists—a totally unnecessary state. Bob and I would encourage any of our readers to visit Prague for it’s stunning beauty—you will go prepared.

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.

How to spot a thief in a crowd

Pickpocket with his map-prop.
How to spot a thief: Anyone stand out like a sore thumb? How to spot a pickpocket
Anyone stand out like a sore thumb?

About how to spot a thief or a pickpocket, I said in my last post that “Bob and I locked onto them the moment they appeared in front of us.” Why? How did we know? What got our attention?

To everyone else in the vicinity, and there were thousands over the course of an hour, the two men appeared perfectly innocuous. Better said, they caused no one to look at them twice. So why did we?

How to spot a thief

How to spot a thief: Thieves among us. How to spot a pickpocket.
Thieves among us.

First let’s look at why no one else heard alarm bells. By design, the two blended neatly into the ever-changing crowd. They wore clean, bland, ordinary clothes. They both carried bags with the straps worn diagonally across their chests, as do many people, including their victim, and Bob, and I. They both carried jackets, as did many people, as did I. One of the men carried a tourist map—as did many people. They were clean-shaven with neat haircuts.

For all intents and purposes, they were germs hidden in full view: an invisible virus in an international organism; undetectable agents of loss.

To Bob and me, the duo stuck out like a sore thumb at first glance. In two seconds, we had each processed the following: they both wore those messenger bags—crosswise. They both carried jackets. One held a map. They walked as if they didn’t know each other. Their eyes scanned the scene around them. Their expressions revealed tension.

How to spot a thief: Pickpocket with his map-prop. How to spot a pickpocket.
Pickpocket with his map-prop.

Right. That’s not much to go on. Pretty much what anyone who bothered to look would notice.

Our second stage of observation took in behavior during half a minute or so. They faked tourist gestures, including pointing into the distance and holding open their map without really looking at it. They conducted an unnatural pattern of movement; for example, reversing to walk in the direction they’d just come from, and crossing and recrossing the same street. They loitered with uncertainty and fidgetiness (I know—that’s hard to define or criticize.)

As the minutes ticked by, the pair showed further suspicious behavior. They were looping—that is, returning to a location from a different angle. They left the area on a bus, but returned on foot. They tailed a target mark, then gave up. They were persistent, trudging up and down the same block, clearly looking for something.

How to spot a thief: When the mark stops and turns so do his pursuers. Hot to spot a pickpocket.
When the mark stops and turns so do his pursuers.

Finally, they spotted an easy target. The mark was the epitome of a victim. Elderly, alone, physically weak, discombobu-lated, and distracted. His trouser pockets were loose and gaping. His shoulder bag hung on a long strap behind his back.

The old man was immobile gazing at a shop window when they found him. Certainly the easiest game around. The pickpockets stared at him openly for several minutes. When the geezer finally moved, they closed in on him from both sides.

How to spot a thief: Vulnerable victim sandwiched by pickpocket bookends. How to spot a pickpocket.
Vulnerable victim sandwiched by pickpocket bookends.

Over and over, the crowd foiled their attempts. The thieves stuck to him, though sometimes they walked past him only to stop and look back at him.

During all this, Bob was fairly stationary. He had a good angle and a long lens. I followed the action, the caboose of the parade. Sometimes when the thieves stopped I stood on the opposite side of a billboard where I could only watch their shadows or their shoes. I watched their reflections in the windows all the way across the street, or in the windows of passing cars and buses. I looked at my watch repeatedly, as if I were waiting for someone (as falsely as they held out their map). I strenuously exercised my peripheral vision muscles. When I tracked the team down past the outdoor art market, I watched them from between the paintings on display.

They became cagey. Eventually, they felt our eyes. They stared me down a few times. One covered his face as he crossed in front of Bob and his camera. But they weren’t sure about us and continued their efforts in plain sight.

How to spot a thief: The victim, the two pickpockets, and Bambi close behind. How to spot a pickpocket.
The victim, the two pickpockets, and Bambi close behind.

Bob and I define “pickpockets” as non-violent. “Muggers” use violence, or the threat of violence. But how do we know who we’re dealing with? We’ve been threatened by thugs in St. Petersburg before. We know that thieves in Russia often carry razor blades. Who are we to predict the level of violence these stalkers are capable of?

There’s also the drug connection. Many pickpockets are slaves to habits. What state are they in when we find them? Are they high and full of confidence? Are they coming down and desperate? Do they have creditors breathing down their necks? Have they failed so many times they’re ready to snap? Has a judge warned them that if they show their faces in his courtroom again he’ll throw the book at them?

How many are there? A “lone wolf,” a pair, a gang? Is there a controller lurking unseen on the perimeter? A spotter? A colleague with a knife who’ll step in at a whistle?

What about police protection? I mean, might the thieves have police protection? Is that what happened to us in Russia a few years ago, when we thought we were about to be robbed by pseudo cops or by real, corrupt cops? Maybe the police were just protecting the pickpockets who pay them off.

Tracking criminals is risky business. Bob and I have to weigh the various factors, sometimes in an eyeblink, and decide on our strategy. How blatant can we be? Should we continue to follow or approach the thief or gang? What have we got on us, equipment-wise? Better we slink away in the crowd? Or talk to the victim and let the thieves go?

How to spot a thief in a crowd? We don’t always make the right decision. Maybe best is when Bob and I split up. He makes contact while I blend into the crowd and keep on filming. Then his cover is blown, but not mine.

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