Bekka Fraser, the owner of a successful chain of high-end consignment shops in Winnipeg, was not someone who would typically fall for an online scam. As a single parent, she had raised her two children to be streetwise and was vigilant about protecting her elderly parents from opportunists. With 25 years of business experience and countless teenage hijinks behind her, Bekka had cultivated a healthy scepticism that had become one of her most powerful assets.
If you ask Bekka today why she responded to the seemingly fishy message that appeared in her LinkedIn inbox, she still struggles to answer.
“I don’t know. It was a stressful time,” she said. “I was scrambling to put my kids through university and college. The business was still in post-pandemic recovery mode. I was driving my parents to doctor’s appointments and supporting them financially whenever I could. I was vulnerable. I was distracted, maybe? I wasn’t paying attention. I just don’t know.”
When she saw the message from the Private Office of His Highness Sheikh Hamdan bin Ahmed Al Maktoum, Bekka assumed it was spam. But when she noticed her name in the message preview, she was intrigued enough to open it.
My Dearest Ms. Fraser,
It is with the utmost respect that I reach out to you through this official channel. While less conventional, it assures the utmost discretion, a quality I value greatly.
Perhaps you recall my involvement, two years past, in the relocation of a former employee’s daughter to Winnipeg. Unfortunately, an unpleasant situation in Dubai necessitated a fresh start, and Canada, with its esteemed educational institutions, proved a most suitable solution. Though I have since severed ties with the family, I am most gratified to learn that Winnipeg has embraced this young woman, and that she pursues studies in the realm of commerce.
Indeed, my interest in Winnipeg extends beyond personal connections. It is with keen admiration that I recently delved into the city’s flourishing business landscape. As a staunch advocate for women’s empowerment within the commercial sphere, I find myself particularly intrigued.
Therefore, if it would be agreeable to you, Ms. Fraser, I would be most honored to learn more about the opportunities Winnipeg presents for those with entrepreneurial ambitions.
With sincere regards,
Sheikh Saeed bin Maktoum bin Rashid Al Maktoum
Bekka did remember some story in the local news about some royal or other helping someone. Or at least she thought she did. A quick Google search revealed that Saeed was the nephew of someone important in Dubai. And the LinkedIn account looked legitimate—a royal crest, official-looking photographs of the sheikh. So, she replied to his text that she’d be happy to answer his questions.
They messaged daily, sometimes several times a day. The sheikh expressed interest in women’s issues, family, and wanting to give back to the people of Winnipeg. Although the tone remained formal, the questions became more personal—first about her business, then her family life. He admired Bekka’s accomplishments as a single parent and business owner and praised her for looking after her aging parents. He shared stories about his own children and his experiences as a lower-ranking member of the Dubai royal family. Soon, he expressed his growing discomfort with the disparity of their situations and eventually declared that he wanted to help her financially. Bekka refused several times, but the sheikh was persuasive.
“It seems so ridiculous now,” she said. “But I thought I was having these highly classified conversations with a royal philanthropist. He insisted that I was acting as a consultant and should get paid. And he said he valued our friendship. That he looked forward to our chats. That he could be himself away from the pressures of his family responsibilities. He pointed out that his wealth was so massive that helping me was literally nothing to him and that it would make a world of difference to me. To my kids. My parents. I fell for it.”
Several messages later, the sheikh laid out his financial plan for Bekka and her family. He respected her pride and didn’t want to insult her. He proposed to pay off her mortgage, cover the remainder of her children’s tuition fees, and place her parents in a high-end assisted living. He wanted her to be able to focus on her business and mentor other businesswomen. This is what finally convinced Bekka.
“He knew I’d only be able to accept his offer if it helped others—my kids, my parents, and women in business. He was good,” she said.
Once she agreed, he told her that she’d hear from someone from his office soon and that he’d prefer to move their correspondence to WhatsApp.
Several days later, Bekka received a message from someone claiming to be the sheikh’s personal assistant. She wanted to get some information from Bekka so they could begin transferring funds. The assistant sent Bekka a PDF file to fill out. When Bekka noted the paperwork had no official letterhead or any association with the sheikh, the assistant explained that given the sheikh’s prominent position, this was intentional. The assistant also explained that they needed to move quickly. The sheikh was about to leave on international travel and hoped to have the transaction completed quickly.
Bekka provided her personal information, a photocopy of her passport, and her banking information. Almost immediately, she received a message back with a screen capture of a bank transfer for $400,000 CAD. The assistant would send it immediately. However, within an hour, the assistant contacted Bekka again. There was a problem. With privacy concerns and some international financial regulations, Bekka would need a UAE bank account, and to open one she would need some form of identification with Arabic script.
“The assistant was putting the pressure on,” she said. “Her texts were getting more frantic. There were fees for the ID and bank account. She couldn’t use official channels to cover the fees for the bank account and ID for obvious reasons and she didn’t have the money to cover it herself. She asked me to send $2200 to cover the costs. I told her I needed to discuss it with Saeed.”
Several texts followed explaining the sheikh was asleep and could not be reached. When Bekka refused, the assistant pleaded with her to be reasonable. She’d be a wealthy woman in hours, while the assistant might lose her position if the transfer wasn’t completed by the morning. Bekka stopped responding and within 15 minutes, the sheikh messaged her directly. They slipped into their easy banter. He was calm. He asked about her family and reassured her that he’d been awake, packing for his trip.
“Suddenly it all seemed reasonable,” she said. “Saeed confirmed he couldn’t cover the fees and risk having the transaction traced back to him or his office. He didn’t want to risk the wrong people finding the young woman he’d sent to Winnipeg. If the money came from Canada, it would look far more legitimate.”
Bekka sent the money. By the end of the week, she’d sent two more transfers to two different bank accounts in Dubai and Italy. She’d drained her savings of $7,500, and the sheikh was no longer responding to her messages.
Bekka’s daughter, Lise, became worried when she noticed her mother frantically checking her phone every few minutes during a lunch date.
“Mom has a strict no-phones-at-the-table policy, so I knew something was up,” she said. “I had to work to get her attention. When I asked her what was going on, she kind of cracked.”
Bekka confided in her daughter. “The moment I described what was going on—heard the words coming out of my mouth—I knew I’d been scammed,” she said. “I was so ashamed.”
Lise tried to convince Bekka to call the police immediately, but Bekka refused.
“My mom is Ms. Upright Citizen,” she said. 2For her to refuse to contact the police was not like her. When she told me how much money she’d sent, I asked her if she had any kind of insurance. That’s when she remembered BOXX.”
Several years ago, when Bekka purchased Cyberboxx Business insurance, she also insured her family with Cyberboxx Home. With digitally connected teens at home, it made sense. Within moments of contacting BOXX, a security specialist arranged a phone call.
“The security expert I spoke with was incredibly knowledgeable and reassuring. He listened without judgment and helped me gather my thoughts,” she said. “With his guidance, I called both the police and my bank. He also emphasized that this wasn’t something to be ashamed of, and even recommended utilizing the free counselling sessions covered by my BOXX insurance.”
With support, Bekka regained control over her personal and financial life. Thanks to BOXX, she was able to recover her losses. “The police have not been able to find the scammers,” Bekka said, “but with help from my family, my therapist, and the BOXX team, I’m putting this nightmare behind me.”
Lise added, “I’m so proud of my mom for taking control and sharing her experience. It’s important for people to know that anyone can be vulnerable, and there’s help available.”
Thanks to the support from BOXX and her family, Bekka’s story is a testament to resilience and the importance of cybersecurity.
