paris – Pickpocket Bob Arno

Hardworking Paris pickpocket needs $2M for U.S. visa

Paris pickpockets: The youngest child pickpocket called for a group photo. They posed and clowned, but none of them took photos of their own. — The gang in 2014. The youngest pickpocket called for a group photo. They posed and clowned, but none of them took photos of their own—or Bob’s wallet.

“I know you!” the girl said when she turned around and got a glimpse of Bob Arno. He and I had followed the girl and her friend because, though we only saw them from behind, their posture and behavior told us they were hardworking Paris pickpockets.

We’d been ready to head home after a long day of thiefhunting in Paris when the sky broke loose and rain fell in buckets. Bob and I dove into the first Metro station we could find, drenched.

And there on the platform, two thieves; a girl-pair of pickpockets. I got my video running as we pushed onto the rush-hour train behind them. The train doors smacked close on my shoulder and opened again. I pressed closer behind Bob and the doors closed. The girls were smashed up against us.

Crowds are ideal for thievery, but this train might have been too sardiney for the pickpockets to plunge their hands downward. Unable to work, they got off at the next stop.

Paris pickpocket pursuit

We followed, which is when the younger one turned and recognized Bob—just as she did in October of 2014. Back then, two and a half years ago, she was part of a swarm of child pickpockets. I thought the youngest boy must have been about ten. She had recognized Bob from the film National Geographic made about us, Pickpocket King, which is on Youtube. Of its millions of views (almost 8,000,000 for the English language version alone), many viewers are criminal pickpockets.

This time, when the girl-thief recognized Bob, her face lit up and she reminded us that we’d met two and a half years ago. She tried to assuage her jittery older partner while dragging us off to dinner at a large pizza joint.

Dinner conversation was jolly, despite the elementary French and occasional phone app-translations. The partner slowly warmed up. Turns out the girl, Gh____, is a woman of 28. She still tells police that she’s 17 in order to avoid jail. Good trick. Common trick. And in her case, pretty believable if you don’t know her from previous arrests.

Our official Paris police source, the Mysterious Monsieur F, tells us that arrestees often claim to be under 18, and of course they often use aliases. When the police doubt the perp’s age, they can ask to do a bone scan, which may corroborate the under-18 claim. But the Paris pickpockets don’t have to give consent. That recently happened, the Mysterious Monsieur F. told me, with a 92-year-old male pickpocket. If they’re lucky, police can match these perps to previous arrest records. (If that 92-year-old has arrests spanning more than 18 years—poof!—busted!)

Portrait of a pickpocket

Gh____ has six children! Right, I wonder why. Police can’t jail perps who are pregnant or carrying an infant. So the pickpockets have lots of babies and share them around. But Gh___ said she truly loves having many children, loves coming home to the commotion with them all swarming around her, and wants to have many more. She’s a Gypsy, and the Gypsy culture truly does revere its children.

Gh____ was first married at 13 and had her first child soon after. Which makes me wonder: were any of the children in the gang we met in 2014 Gh____’s children? They could have been. I regret that I didn’t think to ask her.

We are connected to Gh____ on facebook, but she is completely illiterate. She started pickpocketing at a very young age and didn’t go to school. All her family are thieves, she told us. I wonder now if that includes her kids.

Gh____’s partner that day was V___, who seemed older, and can write. V___ wrote down Gh____’s contact info for us. She has five children and doesn’t want any more.

Gh____ told us that she recognizes all the civilian police officers, and they know her. They can even recognize each other from behind. They also know her distinctive tattoos, which she got in jail. [Aha! So she has spent time in jail!]

Gh____ claims she only takes cash, not credit cards. (We find that hard to believe, given the incredible potential for exploiting cards. But credit card fraud is a higher level crime than cash-stealing, and why should she trust us with all her secrets?) She’s saving up to join other family members in the U.S. She needs two million dollars for a visa, she said. Her family in the U.S. make a lot of money with credit cards, and she wants to join them.

She then displayed her hefty wad: at least $1,300 in fresh U.S. hundred-dollar bills and a few 50s. (All the bills looked new; had she just exchanged a collection of foreign currency? Or was she stalking marks she spotted at cash machines?)

Gh____ insisted on paying for dinner, then got antsy to get back to work. It looks like she’ll get that two million!

Thanks to pickpockets, Chinese now shun travel to France

Asian tourists have been scared away from Paris by the plague of pickpockets who target them. According to Jean-François Zhou, President of the Chinese Association of Travel Agencies in France, the perception of insecurity in France has turned them instead to Russia, which they perceive as safe.

Chinese tourists to Paris

Chinese tourists to Paris, Zhou said, “are robbed in the Palace of Versailles, at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, in front of their hotel, descending buses … In high season, there is not a day without tourists being assaulted. I saw an 80-year-old man seriously injured because he was trying to resist thieves. Women pushed, fall and have their bag stolen with all their papers … This created a panic on Chinese social networks. The Chinese began to turn away from France since last year.”

Paris and Marseille are the French cities most avoided by Chinese, Japanese, and Korean travelers.

An article in Le Parisien states “The problem is that the police are not supported by justice. Often, these offenders are released within a few hours, or the sentence is not proportionate.”

Pickpockets in Paris; Chinese tourists to Paris. Bob Arno recognizes yesterday's pickpocket and persuades him to join us for dinner. — Bob Arno recognizes yesterday’s pickpocket and persuades him to join us for dinner.

In October of 2014, Bob and I watched the arrest and jailing of a pickpocket. We happened to find the same man the very next morning on the loose in the subway. “The police arrest them regularly then see the same faces on the streets and in the Metro a day later. Frustrated, the police soldier on,” I wrote then.

“In 2016, there were 1.6 million Chinese tourists to Paris compared to 2.2 million in 2015!” Zhou said. “The decline is 39% of Japanese and 27% of Koreans. Our tourists have turned to Russia, which is less attractive but at least it is a safe country. For Putin, it is an economic windfall.

“I have been in France for twenty-five years, and I myself have seen the decline of France in terms of security. Before, the Chinese operators deplored the insecurity in Italy, today it is France and more particularly Paris and Marseilles which we speak of. There are many regions in France where tourism can be leisurely pursued, but Paris is ranked No. 1 in Europe in terms of the increase in delinquency.”

In January of 2017 in a Paris hotel parking lot, six thieves laid in wait for a bus to arrive returning Chinese tourists from a shopping excursion. As the shoppers descended the bus laden with purchases, the thieves assaulted them and grabbed their bags. The six thieves were all in their 20s, all had been previously jailed, and all lived in the Seine-Saint-Denis district of Paris which is commonly referred to as a no-go zone. Seine-Saint-Denis is a majority Muslim, majority immigrant district.

This mass raid on Chinese shoppers’ buses had become a new pattern, storming relaxed and burdened tourists on the threshold of their hotels—an ostensibly safe and secure place.

The thieves are not too clever. Have they not heard of overfishing? They prey on their favorite target and as a result, their favorite target stops visiting.

chinese France paris pickpocket tourism

Child pickpockets in Europe

child pickpockets, Eiffel Tower, Paris France

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

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.

France Hamidovic organized crime paris pickpocket police Romania

A Pickpocket’s life story

A Pickpocket's story: 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: “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. — “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.

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.

A Pickpocket's Story: My first cautious, secretive photos show the well-dressed Pedro on the right, Bob on my left. — 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.

A Pickpocket's Story: Pedro’s easy identifier: crooked little fingers to do his crooked work. — 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.

France interview paris pickpocket thief

Eiffel Tower pickpockets force landmark closing

Eiffel Tower pickpockets. Gone at night. No crowds, no pickpockets, no entry.

The Eiffel Tower was closed due to pickpockets most of Friday. Once again, this so-called “petty crime” has affected tens of thousands. How many people lost a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to enter the iconic site in Paris? As shown two years ago when the Louvre closed for the same reason, the pickpockets are a powerful force.

Eiffel Tower Pickpockets

You might think well, look at all the people who weren’t pickpocketed on Friday. Wrong, of course. The pickpockets fan out, targeting those same tourists who, already disappointed about missing the Eiffel Tower, congregate nearby before wandering off in the surrounding streets. The Eiffel Tower pickpockets do not take a day off. The Eiffel Tower pickpockets work the Metro, the streets, the cafés, the museums, and all the other crowded attractions in Paris. The Eiffel Tower pickpockets win.

Eiffel Tower pickpockets. A pickpocket warning at the Louvre. — A pickpocket warning in Paris.

Bob Arno and I have observed, filmed, and spoken with pickpockets for more than 20 years, and we have watched their evolution. In the 1990s in Europe, we saw a preponderance of meek young people, most of whom were dressed in cheap, gaudy, layered ensembles that made them recognizable to anyone who paid attention.

By the turn of the century, most had shed their identifiable costumes and picked up on the latest fashions, including tight jeans, slivers of exposed skin, baseball caps, silvery jewelry, and cool shades. This generation was impossible for the ordinary traveler to identify and, therefore, practiced with formidable success.

At the same time, we began to hear of horrendous violence practiced by a flood of incoming pickpockets. Active thieves we interviewed complained to us of the brute force employed by these newcomers, some of whom might be considered borderline muggers. Newspapers ran articles about jackets being set alight, ensuring that the victim would drop everything to strip and douse the flames while the thief made off with his valuables. Gangs commit robbery by choking, nearly strangling, victims. Bag snatchers pull women to the ground, breaking their bones. Rolex thieves have struggled with victims, causing the death of one tourist in 2011.

Thiefhunters in Paradise has documented this evolution, reporting on hundreds of pickpockets, their methods, and motivations.

The Eiffel Tower pickpockets, like those who worked at the Louvre two years ago, are aggressive and organized. Gangs of pickpockets gain confidence and bravado from one another, surrounding and intimidating their victims with loudness, rapid movements, and many, many hands. Awareness is not enough to resist this M.O. It is vital that valuables be stashed under clothes.

Bosnian pickpocket on the loose in Paris. Pickpockets in Paris. Eiffel Tower pickpockets — Bosnian pickpocket on the loose in Paris.

Pickpockets love Asian tourists, and Paris today is the most popular destination for the Chinese. The culture difference creates a pickpocket advantage, since Asian visitors don’t know how to fend off these aggressive thieves. Asians also may carry more cash instead of relying on credit cards to the same extent as European visitors. The credit card habit is not as extensive in China as in Europe. This makes Asian tourists especially attractive to pickpockets in Paris, and since every Chinese tourist will visit the Eiffel Tower, the equation is obvious.

Paris pickpocket police are running on hamster wheels. With great patience and persistence, they find and arrest pickpockets every day. They haul them into the station and book them into jail. Next day, they walk, free to continue their trade. They’re freed for a variety of reasons—some as trivial as the pickpocket claiming that this is his first time stealing. And he can do that repeatedly! Since he is allowed to decline both mugshot and fingerprints. The police are frustrated to distraction.

Eiffel Tower employees resorted to going on strike for much of Friday, closing down the Eiffel Tower completely, in an effort to call attention to the pickpocket situation and to get a permanent police presence at the monument. Their frustration stems from their city’s lack of political will. There simply have not been enough undercover officers working in the immediate vicinity of the Eiffel Tower.

A pickpocket in Paris. Would you suspect him? Paris pickpockets. Eiffel Tower pickpockets — A pickpocket in Paris. Would you suspect him?

Paris, being a large city with many tourists and many important sites to visit, has the highest number of pickpocket incidents in Europe. Authorities need to allocate protection in the form of uniformed police officers as well as undercover officers. Paris authorities currently claim there is a 25 percent decline in violent crime (think mugging and aggressive bag snatching) and 23 percent decline in pickpocketing. But street crime statistics are extremely hard to calculate and confirm, and the coming summer summer months are the real bellwether for this type of crime.

It is clear, however, that since the January terror attack France has assumed a more serious attitude to crime and how it affects tourism. But how authorities divide and assign existing law enforcement in order to combat crime is what will eventually create results. And a judicial system that truly follows up and prosecutes offenders according to the law.

In the past, perception among law enforcement officers, and the thieves themselves, has been that Paris has a lax judicial attitude. Thieves are not afraid to commit their crimes and to continue in their trade, even when they have been arrested a few times. In addition, Eiffel Tower pickpockets who specialize in stealing from Asian tourists practice a brazen technique that is especially aggressive and threatening to employees working the grounds. We know how they use “in your face” outbursts as a technique to intimidate those who warn victims of an impending attack.

BBC Newshour interviewed Bob Arno May 22 on the subject of the Eiffel Tower pickpockets. You can hear him 7:48 minutes into the Newshour.

France paris pickpocket Thieves

Hamidovic Pickpocket Network—Fagin is alive!

Fehim Hamidovic, convicted chief of the Hamidovic pickpocket network

Fagin—heard of him? An 1837 fiction.

Hamidovic—know that name? He’s an actual, living, pickpocket kingpin. Reality.

Hamidovic, arrested in late 2010, ran a network of hundreds, possibly thousands, of child pickpockets across Europe. He rounded up the underage kids, mostly Eastern European girls, and forced them to steal.

Hamidovic Pickpocket Gang

Forced! They were threatened with violence (including rape and cigarette burns) if they failed to bring in 300-1,000 euros each day. Not angels to begin with and already used to a rough life, once under Hamidovic’s leadership their treatment was brutal.

The children are all under 13, or so they claim—too young to be held by police. Their actual ages are unknown. When arrested, the young thieves all have the same answers. Name? Hamidovic. Age? 12. Police have no choice but to release them.

Pickpockets in Paris on break. Eight of the 10 we met in a Paris gang, moments before they returned to work. Hamidovic pickpocket network. — Pickpockets on break. Eight of the 10 we met in a Paris gang, moments before they returned to work.

300-1,000 euros each day. That explains the persistence and brazenness of the child pickpockets in Paris we observed and spoke with a few months ago. And it explains the 1.3 million euros Hamidovic is said to have netted in just one year. Not to mention his fancy houses, Porsche, and six-figure casino visits. And perhaps it explains why Hamidovic, living the luxe life, reported no income. (“Occupation: organized crime boss.”)

Hamidovic and his underthugs in the Hamidovic pickpocket network trained their little criminals to target Asians when possible, because Hamidovic believed Asians carried more cash and were easy victims. But anyone is fair game in the steal business. In the Paris Metro, we watch clusters of 8-12 child pickpockets fan out and flit from target to target, fast, fleet, unapologetic when noticed.

Fehim Hamidovic, from former Yugoslavia, was 58 when he was arrested along with his wife and two sons. He was 60 when sentenced to seven years in prison. Believing that the Hamidovic pickpocket network was responsible for two-thirds or more of thefts on the country’s Metro, French authorities breathed a sigh of relief. They had dismantled the network. They’d taken down the boss.

“This ‘beast’ will soon have a new head,” said The Mysterious Monsieur F., our official source in Paris, when Hamidovic was finally caught. “The arrest of the chief of the Hamidovic pickpocket network did not change anything, they are always there. And they make a carnage!”

Paris pickpockets: Skipping and singing, the pickpockets lead us out of the subway and into Place Pigalle, a safe place to talk. Hamidovic pickpocket network. — Skipping and singing, the pickpockets lead us out of the subway and into Place Pigalle, a safe place to talk.

“Nobody sees these ‘clouds’ of pickpockets, even though they are not especially discreet. The Hamidovic ‘work’ very well but they are not wary. It is not a problem—there is no risk of prison for them.”

So—the head of the pickpocket gang, this modern-day Fagin, is finally off the streets. Yet, the Hamidovic pickpocket network is alive and well.

A brother, a sister, a nephew, and others have stepped in to perpetuate the gang that authorities call a well-oiled machine and “a powerful entity, perennial, professional”, and “vast network of human trafficking,” “an underground economy, with earnings and protection.” As well as Paris, the vast network operated throughout France, in Belgium, Spain, and Italy.

The Hamidovic pickpocket network grabs headlines, to the exclusion of their also-numerous competitors. The Mysterious Monsieur F. laments:

“The French news reports show only the Hamidovic, causing many people to think that all France’s pickpockets are girls of 12 or 14 years. When announcements are made in the subway stations, the travelers look only for the Hamidovic!

“France’s pickpocket situation is under-estimated. I am ashamed for my country when visitors become victims as of their first steps in France. The Hamidovic can become violent. If a person shouts “pickpocket!” they spit. It is dangerous because many claim to have pneumonia.

“The judgment of Fehim Hamidovic did not change the situation of the thefts in the subway. They are still numerous and sometimes violent.”

In 2013, the Hamidovic pickpocket network opened a branch in the South of France run by Goran Hamidovic, son of the imprisoned Fehim Hamidovic. Pickpocket reports went from 80 per month to 580. Soon Goran Hamidovic, his wife, son, and daughter-in-law were arrested.

Do you think there is any less pickpocketing in France today? In January 2015, The Mysterious Monsieur F. writes “There are still many pickpocketing…”

The Hamidovic pickpocket gang lives on!

France Hamidovic organized crime paris pickpocket Thieves

Paris pickpockets – kids you wouldn’t suspect

A pickpocket in Paris. Would you suspect him? Paris pickpockets — A pickpocket in Paris. Would you suspect him?

“No, no, I won’t steal from you,” the little boy says. “You’re my brother! Family! Family!” He touches his heart, repeating “family, family.” He calls for a group photo.

It hadn’t begun so friendly. It was day three of our eight days of thiefhunting in Paris. Day one we watched the Bosnian pickpocket get arrested. Day two we found the Bosnian pickpocket by sheer coincidence, in all of Paris. Today, we ride the Metro into guaranteed pickpocket territory and find a large gang of Paris pickpockets lounging on the platform benches. They’re as good as waiting for us.

Paris pickpockets

But they’re children! Spotting the kids, we hop off the train at Anvers, the subway stop for Sacré-Coeur, Montmartre, and the Dali museum. In other words, a gateway for tourists. We walk up and over the tracks to the platform for the opposite direction, and slowly saunter to a spot close to the kids. They look us up and down but don’t move. There are eight of them, and two others who come and go. They appear to be aged ten to 18.

When a train comes and they don’t budge, I do my usual pantomime: look at my watch, glance around fretfully as if waiting for someone. How else to indicate why we didn’t get on the train either?

When the next train comes the kids spring into action, splitting up to work different compartments and different doors of the train. Out of nowhere, an interloper appears—a competing pickpocket, a “lone wolf,” probably Moroccan.

Bob and I push onto the train, barely packing ourselves in against the crowd. None of the child thieves are near us, but the tall Moroccan (I have to call him something) is beside Bob, intently working on the man in front of him. His left hand probes pockets while his right grasps a ceiling strap in a manner that keeps his mark from turning.

Pickpockets in Paris on break. Eight of the 10 we met in a Paris gang, moments before they returned to work. — Pickpockets on break. Eight of the 10 we met in a Paris gang, moments before they returned to work.

Paris pickpockets: When a train pulled in the gang dispersed, each to his own mark. Meanwhile, another pickpocket, not part of this gang, arrived and got on the train beside us. — When a train pulled in the gang dispersed, each to his own mark. Meanwhile, another pickpocket, not part of this gang, arrived and got on the train beside us.

Paris pickpockets: The North African pickpocket is groping with his left hand in the pocket of the man in navy. His right arm holds the mark in place. — The North African pickpocket is groping with his left hand in the pocket of the man in navy. His right arm holds the mark in place.

Paris pickpockets: The North African pickpocket gets off at the train's first stop. — The North African pickpocket gets off at the train’s first stop.

Paris pickpockets: Back to the gang: Here, they've just recognized Bob Arno from Pickpocket King, the documentary National Geographic made about him. Bob has just stolen the girl's watch. — Back to the gang: Here, they’ve just recognized Bob Arno from Pickpocket King, the documentary National Geographic made about him. Bob has just stolen the girl’s watch.

Paris pickpockets: Befriending the pickpockets has an ulterior motive. We never know where a "friendship" will go. — Befriending the pickpockets has an ulterior motive. We never know where a “friendship” will go.

Paris pickpockets: Skipping and singing, the pickpockets lead us out of the subway and into Place Pigalle, a safe place to talk. — Skipping and singing, the pickpockets lead us out of the subway and into Place Pigalle, a safe place to talk.

At the next stop the Moroccan gets off and we follow. Bob calls to him politely, asking for a moment of his time. Just to talk. We’re not police, Bob shouts, there’s no problem, just talk! All this in French. The Moroccan bounds up the stairs. Bob follows. The Moroccan dashes through the exit turnstile and tears up another flight of stairs. Bob is close behind. The two of them pick up speed, Bob chasing the thief for a full block. “Age won out,” Bob says later.

We return to the Metro station, Pigalle, and encounter a distressed family who’d just been robbed. It was their first day in Paris and their stolen wallet had contained a lot of money. “A lot of money,” they reiterate. Welcome to Paris.

It’s good to meet these victims while we’re on the hunt. They remind us how devastating their losses are, how innocent their mistakes are, how easily their guard can fail them for just a moment, for example, making sure that their three small children get on the train safely. A pickpocket needs only that moment. That moment changes everything.

Descending to the platform at Pigalle, we see the whole gang. Bob speaks to the kids in English, French, a bit of Italian. They’re chattering in all those languages, and something else we don’t recognize. As Bob tries the different languages, the ten of them spread out on the platform to evade him, shouting No!, No!, Fuck you!. The youngest crosses in front of Bob, raises his hand and says “Going!” as he and the rest of them hop onto the departing train. Bob leans into the compartment, persisting, cajoling.

Suddenly one of the girls lights up. “You! you! you!,” she says. “The film! in Italy, you steal the belt, the tie, the watch… I know you!”

Now she’s laughing, hopping up and down. She jumps off the train and the other nine follow. She explains excitedly to the other kids who are still confused and dubious. Then Bob steals her watch and they all break up, high-fiving Bob and each other. The little pickpockets are thieves, but they’re also children. They’re delighted, and believe they have met a celebrity. Not just a celebrity the girl had seen on TV, in Pickpocket King, the documentary National Geographic made about us. But a celebrity pickpocket, someone who gave recognition and a measure of fame to her profession.

Bob’s behavior—laughing and playing with the thieves, has an ulterior motive. He appears to be best buddies with them, but he hasn’t forgotten the devastated Danes we ached for just minutes before. The little boy tries his sneakiest swipes on Bob, though he can barely reach the inside jacket pockets he’s boasting of. Meanwhile, Bob is wondering how he can prolong the conversation, how he can make a translator materialize out of thin air, how he can learn about the criminal organization of this child gang. His fun-and-games clowning around is self-serving. He’s hoodwinking the kids, deluding them, swindling the swindlers.

“I want to talk to you about your life!” Bob tells them.

“Okay, but not here,” they say. “Let’s go!” And like the Pied Piper, Bob Arno and the ten little pickpockets zig, zag, and bounce their way along the platform, up the stairs, through the turnstile, and up another flight into the bright sunlight, laughing all the way.

All the kids are wearing wide-strap messenger bags diagonally across their chests. If you’re a regular reader of this site or if you’ve read our book, you recognize the ominous messenger bag. Floppy, empty, the bag is a pickpocket tool. The thief lifts it into position to hide his thieving hands.

A few of the older pickpockets drift away. Perhaps they’ve gone back to work. Perhaps they’re lurking on the perimeter, keeping an eye on the younger ones. To the six who now surround him, Bob is a rock star.

The children want to show their slickest steals. They want to show off. They want attention from an adult as children always do. “Look at me! Watch!” They want attention as pickpockets always do, as if crying out: “look at me, I’m a person, not only a thief.” Living on the fringes of society, off the grid, they crave validation.

These seem like happy kids, especially the younger ones. The older ones are more somber, cracking smiles and goofing around, only to remember their dignity, it seems; then they straighten their shoulders and take a step back. We don’t know what kind of lives they live. They probably don’t attend school. After all, we found them on a Tuesday afternoon in October. Do they live in a tented camp on some remote outskirt? In crowded squalor among dozens crammed into a tenement tower? Squatting in a boarded-up building? Are they all related? Are they gypsy?

After another round of mock steals—this time they line up to experience Bob’s wallet steal—the little one calls for a group photo. They throw their arms around one another, around Bob, and mug for the camera.

Then there’s some fast chatter and the kids have had enough. They want to go back to work—or maybe they need to. Do they have quotas to make? We haven’t learned much about them but, as Bob always says, you have to try. You have to start somewhere and see where it goes.

The girl who initially recognized Bob calls the gang to order and they bound off to the subway, turning in the distance to wave goodbye before diving back underground.

5/27/17 edit: We met this girl again two and a half years later in May 2017. Read about how she’s saving up for a U.S. visa and why, in Hardworking Paris Pickpockets.

France metro paris pickpocket thiefhunting Thieves

Pickpockets in Paris

Pickpocketing in Paris is out of control.

Or rather, the pickpockets in Paris are in control. The police arrest them regularly then see the same faces on the streets and in the Metro a day later. Frustrated, the police soldier on.

Bob Arno and I ran across a just-arrested pickpocket at Gare de Lyon, a huge train and subway station in Paris—one of the biggest and busiest stations in Europe.

The pickpocket, a seasoned pro, knew just what to say to the arresting officers: sorry, yes, I did it, but it was my first time! The police can’t prove otherwise, because the perp can decline to give a mugshot and may give a false name. Not only that, he can refuse to give fingerprints! If he does refuse to give his fingerprints, he must pay a fine of several thousand euros and/or do jail time. No problem on either count. Fines are just a cost of doing business for pickpockets everywhere, and jail time is certain to be short. Very short.

Gare de Lyon train station, Paris; Pickpockets in Paris — Gare de Lyon train station, Paris

Scene of the crime: The victim sat in one of these red chairs with her purse on the floor against the wall. From behind, the pickpocket lifted the wallet from the purse. Pickpockets in Paris. — Scene of the crime: The victim sat in one of these red chairs with her purse on the floor against the wall. From behind, the pickpocket lifted the wallet from the purse.

Pickpockets in Paris

We got the usual sob story from the victim, a 70-ish French woman who had just flown in from Washington D.C. and was waiting for her train to Lyon. She was tired, she was reading, and her purse was beside her on the floor. [Yikes! Better read Purseology 101!]

The pickpocket had snuck up from behind, took the wallet from her bag on the floor, and departed—all under the observant eye of an undercover police officer (hero!).

Lucky victim!

Late the next day, Bob and I were heading back to our hotel with a feast of cheeses, wine, baguette, and fruit. Changing trains at Chatelet station, we fast-walked along the platform when Bob suddenly caught his breath. He stopped short, plopped down on a bench, and launched into an urgent monologue to a glum-looking man. It took me a moment to recognize him. It was yesterday’s pickpocket!

I was speechless. In all of Paris, how did our paths happen to cross? How did Bob notice him, slumped there on a platform bench? How did Bob recognize him? Amazing!

The pickpocket shook his head no, no, no, but Bob blabbed on and on like a high-pressure salesman. The pickpocket had just gotten out of jail. Twenty-four, maybe 26 hours of punishment. Bob told him “you’re going to have dinner with us, you’re going to talk to us, and you’re going to have a good time, you’ll see.” The thief could not refrain.

No, we did not bring him back to our hotel room to share our hand-picked bounty. We got a back corner table at a moules joint where, after a hearty steak dinner, the thief began to relax. Smiling, leaning back, the man spoke easily to us in very good English which he said he learned while “working” in Switzerland.

Bob Arno, master manipulator, cannot be refused. After first convincing the nervous thief to go with us, he had now expertly calmed him with casual talk as if he were a confederate. After wolfing down the steak, the thief got up and went out for a smoke, leaving his backpack with us. He returned, relaxed and unhurried. Bob showed him video of other pickpockets.

The pickpocket must have been seriously grateful for the grub—apparently, jail cuisine is not what we think of as “French food.” He hadn’t eaten. He was so grateful that he agreed to talk to us on camera. We pulled out a naked little GoPro video camera—toy-like, unthreatening.

Pickpockets in Paris. After a hearty dinner, the Bosnian pickpocket watches video of other thieves. — After a hearty dinner, the Bosnian pickpocket watches video of other thieves.

Forty years old, “Dennis,” the easy name he said he uses, is from Kosovo, where he did military service. He spent a long time in Barcelona, another pickpocket paradise, and has a Romanian wife and a child there. He gave us his real name and email address. Or did he? When we tried to email him later, the address failed.

By the time we began the interview on camera, the Bosnian had gradually become twitchy. He couldn’t sit still in his chair. He fidgeted, scratched himself all over, threw glances over his shoulders. Must be a tweeker. But he still smiled, laughed, and talked openly about his profession and yesterday’s arrest.

He usually works with a partner, but his partner was in jail. His specialty is stealing from women’s purses. [Of course—they’re the easiest, having no nerve endings.]

His favored venues are train stations (but not on trains), airports, and hotel lobbies. He does not do anything with credit cards. I asked if he sells them to anyone. He said he doesn’t. Does he just throw them in the trash? No, he leaves them somewhere to be found. [By another thief? I didn’t ask.]

Well, if he doesn’t abuse credit cards, he wants cash. Who carries the most cash? Travelers. Hence his venues, right? The wallet of his victim yesterday contained over 400 euros. [His own wallet, though empty of cash, is an elegant black Montblanc, certainly from the breast pocket of some unfortunate gentleman.]

The plainclothes police officer who arrested him yesterday had tried to get him on the floor for handcuffing, the standard method. The Bosnian chuckled. “I’m so much bigger and stronger than he is, I just gave him my wrists and said please, it isn’t necessary to put me on the floor.”

After fifteen minutes on camera, the pickpocket was squirming in his seat. Bob tried to get him to agree to meet tomorrow, but he wouldn’t commit. He just wanted to go home, he said, he just wanted a shower. I’m pretty sure he needed a hit of something.

We did not hear from him again. Not even for another hearty dinner.

In the style of Financial Times’ “Lunch with the FT” column, I’ll close with the details of our dinner:

[infobox subtitle=”

1 Moules Mariniere
1 Moules Madras curry
1 Steak
Fries all around
2 Creme Brulee
1 Belgian chocolate fondant
1 Perrier
1 espresso

€70

” bg=”pink” color=”black” opacity=”on” space=”10″ link=”no link”]Dinner with a pickpocket[/infobox]

Next: Professional child pickpockets in Paris

France paris pickpocket thiefhunting Thieves

Pickpockets in the Louvre

Pickpockets running rife in the Louvre—nothing new there. Pickpockets acting aggressively: in our 20 years of active street crime research, we’ve been flipped off, hit, spit upon, and mooned.

I hate to say this because it’s bound to be taken wrong, but the flipping off, hitting, spitting, and mooning has all been committed by Roma whom we were following and/or filming as they pickpocketed or attempted to do so. Though they are certainly not the only pickpockets in Paris or in Europe, they’re a particularly visible group. Other nationals have learned to better blend into their host cities.

The Louvre pickpockets’ M.O. is already familiar to me. They employ minors—their own or other children from the clan. The children are not in school. (The parents allow them to attend until they can read and write; then they’re yanked out so they aren’t sucked into the Gadjo (non-gypsy) ways.) The children may get caught, but must be released to their parents because they are underage. The parents yell at these children, not because they were pickpocketing—but because they were caught. The adults, when arrested, are usually held only a day or two, if at all, and then go right back to work—usually back to their favorite territories.

Roma immigrants from Romania are fleeing real persecution, abominable conditions, and pauper’s wages. They arrive in France and other European countries claiming to seek a better life for themselves and better opportunities for their children. Their vocal representatives beg for integration assistance and national governments develop programs with that intention. Yet the Roma remain outsiders. By choice, it seems.

Many (or most) are illiterate, which seriously compromises their job options. What else are they to do?

One document from a current investigation against three Romanian women illuminates the trend [crime spike]. “For at least a year, observations in Duisburg (but also nationally) show that Romanian groups (apparently family clans) are committing organized crimes on an alarming scale,” it reads. Most of the crimes involve pickpocketing or shoplifting, but there have also been cases of fraud whereby perpetrators pretend to be deaf or disabled while panhandling, then snatch wallets and mobile phones from their distracted victims. Clan leaders send out mainly young women on a “regional” basis for these activities.
Poverty and Crime: Conditions Little Better for Roma Immigrants in Germany, Spiegel Online International, 10/19/12.

A crowd at the Louvre jostle to see the Mona Lisa, ignoring the prominent pickpocket warning.

The police Bob Arno and I communicate with constantly express frustration over the Roma crime wave, which is not new, but is getting worse. Criminal Roma are regularly given €300 and escorted to the border. After their paid vacations in Romania, they return to pick up where they left off.

It is difficult or impossible to discuss this issue, let alone solve it, without being politically incorrect. Perpetrators, good Roma citizens, and the press all blame a prejudiced stereotypical image. The word gypsy is all but outlawed. My 250 page book on pickpockets and street crime does not use the word once (well, once—but in a string of general references to many cultures).

Yet, despite all the denials and euphemisms, Bob and I have observed and interviewed Roma—yes, Gypsy—pickpockets all across Europe. Police we meet and police we know well struggle to dial back crime levels perpetrated by their communities. Now, Roma begging has gotten out of hand.

There is evidence that much of the begging is organised and controlled by men. The women are expected to bring in at least 50 euros a day. Some, like outside the Gare Du Nord, operate in groups of up to 15. The police believed that invalids and children, who are used to gain sympathy, are shared out between the groups.
The Roma Repatriation, BBC News, 8/19/10

Countries experiencing Roma criminal gang activity are calling for the European Union to find a solution better than evictions, better than abuse, better than handouts, better than relegating the Roma to the barren fringes where they have little chance to integrate into society. But I wonder: do the Roma want to integrate into society?

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Shoulder-surfing credit-card thief—part 2

'Hello there, Monsieur Pickpocket. I'm Bob Arno.' Photo Â© Kun Chang 2010.

Bob had just made contact with the shoulder-surfing thief…

Pirouetting, I went to find Kun Chang, our film director, who’d been with us all day, along with his crew. When we’d given chase to our quarry, they’d followed our progress from a distance, eventually taking up a static, central position. Now I stood with Kun & Co. just long enough to get my little video camera turned on, amazed to see Bob and the purse-dip still together.

I went to join them, instantly lowering Bob’s perceived threat, from the thief’s point of view. No longer was it one mysteriously-motivated man against a criminal—it was just a couple! A harmless, curious couple. We moved out of the traffic and huddled next to a vending machine.

The man did not deny his occupation. He did not bolt. He did not raise a fist or deliver a swift kick or practice whatever form of aggression he’s known for. He answered our questions in soft-spoken Arabic-tinged French and repeatedly asked one of his own: Why? Why do you want to know these things?

Our French-speaking film director, Kun Chang, soon joined us, raising the level of our conversation from Bob’s basic French. I glanced down at my camera, a tiny thing the size of my little finger. Packed into its small body are a battery, a chip that stores hours of sound and video, an unnoticeable lens, and a few switches. Gone are the cumbersome wires, remotes, antennas, transmitters, and external storage devices we wrangled while using our old hidden cameras. But this one lacks a viewing device or monitor, and I wasn’t familiar with its capturing angle, or anything else about it.

Bob used a gorgeous little fisheye camera. He took a quick peek to see that it was on, then stashed it in his pocket, recording audio but no video.

Glancing down, I was horrified to see a flashing red light. This is one of the first things I usually disable when thiefhunting. You may as well display a giant neon sign: “I’m recording!” I covered the light with my finger, immobilizing my left hand for the remainder of the encounter.

Bob: “I’m a pickpocket too, like you. For the last 20 minutes, I’ve watched your technique. I can see you’re very experienced.” Bob does the butter-up.

Bob: “I’m very good on stage.” (And modest, an Italian thief once chided.)

First time using this camera. I didn't aim very well.

Bob, afraid our detainee would soon scoot, suggested coffee together, or dinner. “I need to work, I can’t stop to have dinner with you,” he said. “And beside, I don’t want to be on TV. I can see you’re filming me right now.” He jabbed a finger toward my camera.

Cooly, I pretended not to hear that.

We learned that our man considers himself best at stealing from handbags and backpacks. It’s best to do it when the person is moving, in motion, he explained, and you have to concentrate on the person while you’re doing it. Puffing up a little, he invited us to follow him and watch.

Looking up at Bob Arno, who is much taller.

I suddenly noticed how much fringe from my scarf was falling in front of the camera. I swept it away. But maybe that was why the thief had seemed to forget about it. I wondered what kind of image I was getting. And what about sound? Was my finger over the microphone? I didn’t know.

The thief told us that he doesn’t know how to work in a gang, he never has. And he said stealing is a hundred times more difficult on the street, as compared to the stage. Bob agreed, though he believes otherwise. When a criminal fails, he walks away and tries again. When a stage pickpocket fails, he has hundreds or thousands of witnesses, and a reputation dependent on success.

Throughout, the man stood calmly, gesturing rarely, jacket zipped to his chin. Built like a flyweight boxer, exuding confidence and arrogance, he seemed in no hurry to leave us, despite his professed need to work. (We actually see this behavior often: thieves seem to enjoy an opportunity to brag, to tell their sob stories, to talk to someone willing to listen.)

The pickpocket explained the importance of getting the cardholder-victim’s PIN, and that he had no trouble memorizing the four digits. He said he uses the credit cards himself, he never sells them to others. Then he dropped the bombshell—to me, the most interesting revelation:

He doesn’t steal money—only credit cards. He never takes people’s cash because it’s not insured. What he steals from their credit cards, they get back from the bank.

Really? A thief with a heart?

Bob begged again for a dinner together, or another meeting. The thief said sure, maybe tomorrow, and took our phone number. He made sure we had his name spelled correctly, and suggested some possible times. Shaking hands all around, he turned and slipped into the turbulent crowd. Back to work.

* * *
Did we go to the Eiffel Tower, you wonder? Did we visit Notre Dame, or the Louvre? No, no time for any of that this time. But we did eat well.

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