The story began on WeChat: At the end of July 2022, a stranger suddenly asked if we knew each other. Since they had my contact information, I must have interacted with them before. When I said we were strangers and asked to delete the contact, who could have imagined that this simple response would become the switch that changed my fate?
He asked about my field of work. After hearing my response of “home health services,” he immediately claimed he worked in medical and real estate. I thought that he was in the same industry. This cognitive bias led me to mistakenly believe he was a colleague, unaware that I had stepped into a trap that would change my life.
Conversation with the scammer on WeChat
Getting Rid of Security
Looking back, I can now trace the careful steps of his deception. It began one week after we started talking, when he asked me to move our conversation from WeChat to LINE. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but later I realized the reason: he was likely trying to evade WeChat’s stricter security monitoring. This move to a less regulated platform was his first silent victory.
Emotional Vampirism
Then, he expertly targeted my greatest weakness: my empathy. He was the one who always steered our chats, probing deliberately into personal matters. One day, he insisted I must have a life story worth telling, that he wanted to listen to. When I brushed him off, saying he was too young to understand, he seized the opening to weave his own tragic tale. With calculated sorrow, he told me his wife had died in a private plane crash—and that he himself had been critically injured. “I wish it had been me instead,” he confessed, his words drenched in a grief that felt palpable. To make it horrifyingly real, he even sent me photos of himself in a hospital bed, connected to a ventilator, tubes snaking around his body. Seeing that image, my heart truly ached for him. How could it not? I felt genuine sympathy and compassion—precisely the feelings he had deliberately engineered.
The picture sent by the scammer showed he was in critical condition.
“Thinking Alike”
Having appealed to my emotions, he then sought to connect with my mind. He recommended a book by an author known for deep, soul-searching reflections, carefully presenting himself as someone who shared those profound, philosophical yearnings for life’s meaning. It was a clever act designed to make me see him as a kindred spirit, a deep thinker, not a criminal.
During the conversation, the scammer referred to a soul-searching book.
“I Don’t Need Your Money”
Simultaneously, he worked to assure me he was utterly trustworthy by crafting an image of unimaginable wealth. He casually mentioned living in Beverly Hills among movie stars and athletes, and painted himself as a billionaire real estate tycoon. The unspoken message was clear: A man this rich would have no interest in my modest savings. He was building a persona that seemed above financial need.
“I Promise I’ll See You Later”
To explain why we couldn’t meet, he concocted a believable story. He said his parents lived in Florida, where he was visiting them and looking to buy a small yacht—sending me pictures as “proof.” He promised he’d return to Los Angeles in a few months and that we would meet then. This gave him the perfect, legitimate-sounding excuse for his absence. Of course, by the time those “few months” passed, he planned to have vanished with my money.
The Comfort of Culture
Speaking with someone who seemed to share my language, background, and cultural references slowly, gently eroded my caution. I began to trust him.
Pig Butchering
I later learned the cruel name for this scheme: “Pig Butchering.” The Chinese term, shāzhūpán, literally means “killing a pig.” The scammer’s entire approach is to “fatten” the victim with friendship, affection, and trust before leading them to the slaughter, taking everything they have. They don’t just take a piece; they take the whole pig.
The image is from https://media.wired.com/photos/63a399902b5612eae8066cd3/master/w_2560%2Cc_limit/YearEndReview_Texture03_Pig_Bitchering.jpg.
Divide and Devour
If you look up this scam online, you’ll often see a diagram of a pig split into numbered sections—1, 2, 3, 4—with a knife laid across it. This chilling illustration shows how scammers methodically take your money, piece by piece, until there is nothing left. The sheer, predatory greed of it is enough to make you sick. As one leading researcher on these scams said, “The stories you hear from victims—it eats you up.” And now, I understand that feeling from the inside.
The image is from https://imageio.forbes.com/specials-images/imageserve/631aa6802a3c7d3a06d70386/pigbutchering-1×1/0x0.jpg?format=jpg&height=2009&width=2009.
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