Is It Unethical to Scam a Scammer? The Psychology Behind Modern Online Cons

Silhouetted figure in a dark hoodie with their face hidden in shadow, standing against a black background, creating an ominous and mysterious atmosphere.

Behind every promise of easy money lurks a master manipulator — but sometimes, the con meets his match.

Is it unethical to scam a scammer?
Is it theft to steal from a thief?
Is it stealing if money is freely given — and only after that are contingencies verbalized?

I tell this story to illuminate a current scam burning through the nation like wildfire — with social media as the favored hunting ground — and to offer a teachable moment for those more naïve than me.

There’s also an underlying theme here — a brilliant piece of social commentary — but I’ll save that for another post.


The Setup

A man reached out to me last night via a social media app, peacocking with promises of financial assistance. Honestly, it didn’t strike me as that odd. Considering the culture of Charleston — shh… there’s quite the Sugar Daddy prevalence here, from what I’ve heard and borne witness to…

Jack said he wanted to pay off my credit card debt.
Rolling eyes. Sure you do.

He also claimed he wanted me to act as his personal assistant — to buy gifts for his “clients” — and that he’d pay me $1,000 a week.

“Would you like that, baby?”

“Baby.” Ew. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

For future reference, gentlemen — unless I’m, ahem, seeing you regularly, do not call me baby. You sound like Danny Zuko trying to impress his jockstrap friends.


The Hook

Was this whole scenario ridiculous and an obvious scam?
Absolutely.

So why give it life?
I couldn’t not.

I entertained this nonsense to see where the knave intended to take me — and how deep the rabbit hole would go.

So, I acquiesced. He gave me his bank account information, and I added it as a payment method for one of my cards. Then I hit Make Payment.

Whooosh. My balance went to zero.

Alright then. Move endgame: establish trust through an initial act of kindness.

He told me to do it again.
And again.
And again.

Blink! $0.
Blink! $0.
Blink! $0.

I thanked him for his inconceivable kindness.

Then came the catch.

“Baby, I need you to go and buy me 5 Apple gift cards. $100 each.”

🚩🚨 Red flag! Police siren! Red flag! 🚨🚩


The Turn

With my handy-dandy worst-case-scenario complex, I quickly theorized all possible nefarious outcomes:

  • Payments get canceled during processing → I’m the jackass out my hard-earned money.
  • Gift cards fund something shady — cryptocurrency?
  • Exchange serves as a laundering avenue.
  • The bank info he provided is stolen.

Of course, the knave ranted and raved, trying to gaslight me.

To his credit, he was quite skilled at it.

But at this point, I’m quite adept at recognizing gaslighting.

When he realized there was no persuading me, he turned to anger — calling me repeatedly. When blocked, he used new numbers, calling me a thief and worse.

But notably — and this is significant — he never once asked for the money back. Instead, he kept insisting I buy the gift cards.

He even sent a long, drawn-out “hail Mary” message the next morning.


The Response

Sir, I do not presume to know what game you’re playing — though the prima facie evidence speaks volumes.

You tried to entice me, to earn my trust with a favor. Only after did you attempt to broker a deal.

Your assertion is false: I am not a thief.

You gave of your own volition, without solicitation or coercion. Therefore — even if you were an honorable person — I owe you nothing.

(This is the broader social commentary I’ll discuss in a future post.)

But I will give you some advice:

Next time you try to prey on someone, perhaps be more calculating in evaluating your target.

In the art of war, if you’re arrogant enough to assume superiority based on superficial diagnosis, it is your own stupidity that brings defeat.

You were not taken advantage of, Sir.
You were outplayed.


The Lesson

To those reading — please be careful.

In October 2020, the Federal Trade Commission reported that in just the first six months of that year, Americans lost over $117 million to online fraud.

A more naïve version of me might have ignored the uneasy feeling in my gut — hoping the risk would prove fruitful. I’ve been that trusting before and reaped terrible consequences, both financial and emotional. The only difference? Those scammers were in the flesh, not behind a screen.

And as my mother says — more often than I’d like to admit —

“If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

Nothing in this world is free.
So before you pay the price, make sure you know what it is.



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