Nigerian Scam Letters, revisited

  I’m pretty brain-dead from putting together this week’s St. Patrick’s Day issue, which is always one of our biggest issues of the year.

So in the spirit of a column I wrote in December 2003, I’m going to write an entry about one of my favorite hobbies: collecting Nigerian Scam letters.

In case you’ve been living under a rock for the past couple of decades, the Nigerian Scam is a twenty-year-old hustle involving mass e-mails — actually, faxes back in the day — promising the pigeon a hefty cash allotment if said pigeon will just help smuggle funds out of a beleaguered African nation (though recently the scammers have begun branching out to other locales).

The Nigerian Scam is unique among scams for two reasons: 1) According to the FBI, it is the largest and most profitable con in history; and 2) the writers of the scam letters betray in their individualistic writing styles an inherent sensitivity to human nature which I find genuinely inspiring in this age of corporate cookie-cutter marketing.

Though the overall writing talent of the scammers has declined in the past couple of years, some real gems still show up in my e-mail box — most of them courtesy of my long-standing “pusher” of fine, uptown Nigerian Scam Letters, Mr. Gerald Schantz of Aurora Stained Glass and Gerald’s Chuckwagon fame.

The best way to enjoy Nigerian Scam Letters is just to dive right in. So here goes, with an excerpt from the most recent letter:

Good day,

As you read this, I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me because, I
believe everyone will die someday.

My name is Bill Owens, a Real Estate developer in Toronto, Canada. I have
been diagnosed with lung cancer, which has defiled all forms of medical treatment, and right now I have only about a few months to live, according
to medical experts.

This, of course, is the “salutation” portion of the Scam Letter, wherein the writer hooks the pigeon with a formal introduction and brief character sketch of themselves, crafted with the two-fold aim of eliciting sympathy while establishing credibility.

I think Mr. Owens comes on a little strong in this salutation. The terminal illness approach seems too obvious — though I confess I do love the charming and possibly deliberate misuse of the word “defiled.”

Is it possible that the writer, though pretending to be Canadian, made the mistake on purpose as a sort of clue, a subtle signature of his individuality as an artist? An artistic individuality so driven as to transcend even the necessity of pulling off the scam? I think yes!

Mr. Owens’ letter is an example of a recent and most unfortunate trend in Nigerian Scam letters, i.e., making the sender an Anglo rather than an African. Me, I’m a purist. I prefer a scam letter with an exotic African or Middle Eastern tinge. We have enough native huckster Bubbas stateside as it is.

However, I do give Mr. Owens props for his next paragraph:

I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone (not even myself) but my business. Though I am very rich, I was never generous; I was always hostile to people and only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for. Now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world.

Again, a little strong for my taste, but this paragraph fulfills an essential characteristic of the Nigerian Scam Letter: The writer must come across as basically honorable, but less than perfect. Good effort here.

Alas, the rest of Mr. Owens’ letter is not worth going over, ignoring such basics of a good scam letter as a clear relationship to specific high government officials. So we’ll move on to this “Business Offer”:

I am Prince Fayad W. Bolkiah, the eldest son of Prince Jefri Bolkiah,former
Finance Minister of Brunei, the tiny oil-rich sultanate on the Gulf Island. Will save your time by not amplifying my extended royal family history,which has already been disseminated by the international media during the controversial dispute that erupted between my father and his step brother,the sultan of Brunei Sheik Muda Hassanal Bolkiah.

Well done! A return to old-school salutation, this epistle from the prince has all the hits: A reference to obscure royalty, a bitter family dispute, and a clear source of funding.

Note the thespian genius of the writer, staying in character throughout the salutation. Wouldn’t it be just like a prince to brush aside a detailed explanation by referring to international media reports? And doesn’t this make us feel more important, more in-the-know, since the prince blithely assumes we already know this?

Good stuff. Let’s continue:

As you may know from the international media,the sultan had accused my
father of financial mismanagement and impropriety of US$14.8 Billion
dollars. This was as a result of the Asian financial crisis that made my
father company Amedeo Development Company and government owned Brunei
Investment Company to be declared bankrupt during his tenure in
office.However my father was kept under house arrest, his bank accounts and
private properties including a crude oil export refinery were later
confiscated by the sultanate.

This, as I’ve written before, is the “habeas corpus” segment of a Nigerian Scam Letter, wherein the writer reveals the exact source and amount of the funds to be smuggled out of the country. The more detailed, the more credible. There is literally no way to overdo the habeas corpus, and attention to detail in this segment is what separates an outstanding Nigerian Scam Letter writer from a merely competent one.

While the prince’s habeas corpus does not carry the evocative overtones of civil war and political unrest that I find personally so rewarding in a scam letter, this is a solid A minus habeas corpus here.

However, the prince does a really poor job at closing the deal. After a great set-up, all we get is this weak effort to finalize the transaction:

Hence I seek your good assistance to invest these funds into profitable
investment in your country to facilitate future survival for my family
abroad.I have decided to offer 10% of these funds to you as compensation for
your strong cooperation.

Booooo. Get off the stage, Prince, and make room for this:

<i>I know that this message will come to you as a surprise since we don

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