They say they’d make a lot more than that, but they blow much of their income entertaining “clients” in order to convince the victims they’re legit.
They’ll fly potential marks to Ghana, for example, and put them up in a fancy hotel while they meet with Sheye and Danjuma’s faux business partners there.
He knows if he meets “a Saudi Arabia person,” he’s in luck.
“They don’t know what to do with money.” “Whenever we want to fraud somebody, we will know what you are worth,” Danjuma says. ” Even “how much you have in your account.” They glean all this information just by developing a tight relationship with the dupe.
Before that, he used to hang out with nomadic cow-herding kids, children who sell bottled water by the roadside, and budding scam artists.
Yes, Nigerian scam artists, like the ones who send you emails purporting to be from an African prince who will pay you to help him move million into your country, and all you have to do is give him your bank account number.
I told Michael I wanted to interview his scammer friends. But I figured I’d be doing a public service by distracting the scammers from conning old folks for a couple hours.
The Nigerian Economic and Financial Crimes Commission is tasked with cracking down on con men like these. The duo says they are able to skirt law enforcement because they have a lot of people on their payroll. They estimate that 30 percent of their earnings go to what they call “security”—that is, the payment of bribes.
“We are not scared of any minister or president,” Danjuma says, his words slightly slurred by the third 20-ounce bottle of Star.