When I arrived to Argentina on February 17th, my buddy Francisco went to the airport to pick me up. Not only that - he even had a room prepared for me at his house where I stayed during my first few weeks in Argentina. In fact, Francisco and his wife even invited me to live with them free of charge during the entire time that I am studying in Buenos Aires. The offer was particularly gracious given the fact that Francisco's wife is pregnant and expecting a baby in mid-April. I thanked them and explained that I would not feel comfortable accepting such a generous offer.
I was very fortunate in that I already had some contacts here in Buenos Aires before I arrived. Obviously, my friend Francisco is a hell of a guy. I'll have to tell you more about him later, though, because this story is supposed to be headed in different direction.
The story I want to tell you really begins when I moved into my own apartment about 2 weeks after arriving to Buenos Aires. I had only been in the apartment for about 3 days when I awoke one morning to an incoming phone call to my land-line. I groggily answered the phone, and the man on the other end of the line explained that he was a police officer with the Buenos Aires police department.
When you are a half-asleep gringo and receive a phone call from the Buenos Aires police department, you immediately start thinking of what you may have done wrong the night before. I suppose the officer anticipated this concern, and he explained to me that he was calling in regards to a robbery that had just occurred a few minutes ago here in the Capital. Apparently the 2 victims had been murdered after being robbed of all of their money and all of their documents. The officer explained that the one of the victims had my number written down on a piece of paper found in his pocket. The officer would need me to come down to the police department to identify the bodies. He then asked for my name and a cell phone number where he could reach me in case there were any updates before I arrived to the police station.
Something sounded fishy here, but I was caught a little off-guard by the phone call. I explained that I do not have many contacts here and that I could not imagine who the 2 victims might be. Picking up on my foreign accent, the "officer" explained that the 2 victims were foreigners and must be friends of mine. At this point, I was about 80% certain that this guy was not who he said he was. I told him that I did not have any friends here in Buenos Aires for whom I would be a primary emergency contact. The "officer" said that it would still be necessary for me to come down to the station to view the bodies and answer some questions, and he asked me to confirm which apartment I am renting in the building at Arenales 1492 (FYI, I am not posting my actual address here for obvious security reasons. I don't want Brett Richards showing up here asking if he can "crash" on my couch). I told the officer that I could not give that information to an unknown person over the phone, but that he was welcome to come to my building and speak with the guard downstairs. That is when I hung up.
After telling this story to Francisco and some other local friends, I have learned that this is a fairly common trick here in Buenos Aires. The man was almost certainly a con-artist and was probably a prisoner calling me from jail. He most likely chose my land-line phone number at random from the telephone directory. The directory likely would have included only my building address, and this explains how the caller knew which building I was in but not which specific apartment. Apparently prisoners will use phone calls like this to try to derive as much personal information as possible from the person answering the phone. The "officer" might have used this information in any number of ways. Here is a worst-case-scenario: First, he might pass the information on to someone "on the outside" that could use the information to follow me and eventually rob me. By robbing my cell phone, they could then contact a friend or family member to say that I had been kidnapped and to request some large amount of money as ransom. Of course when the friend or family member tries to call me, I do not answer because the theives have my cell phone. The hope is that the person would, in a moment of panic, transfer a bunch of money to the "kidnappers". This would all happen very quickly, and I would most likely still be stranded somewhere trying to find a way to get back to my apartment after the theives had mugged me and stolen my wallet.
The story I want to tell you really begins when I moved into my own apartment about 2 weeks after arriving to Buenos Aires. I had only been in the apartment for about 3 days when I awoke one morning to an incoming phone call to my land-line. I groggily answered the phone, and the man on the other end of the line explained that he was a police officer with the Buenos Aires police department.
When you are a half-asleep gringo and receive a phone call from the Buenos Aires police department, you immediately start thinking of what you may have done wrong the night before. I suppose the officer anticipated this concern, and he explained to me that he was calling in regards to a robbery that had just occurred a few minutes ago here in the Capital. Apparently the 2 victims had been murdered after being robbed of all of their money and all of their documents. The officer explained that the one of the victims had my number written down on a piece of paper found in his pocket. The officer would need me to come down to the police department to identify the bodies. He then asked for my name and a cell phone number where he could reach me in case there were any updates before I arrived to the police station.
Something sounded fishy here, but I was caught a little off-guard by the phone call. I explained that I do not have many contacts here and that I could not imagine who the 2 victims might be. Picking up on my foreign accent, the "officer" explained that the 2 victims were foreigners and must be friends of mine. At this point, I was about 80% certain that this guy was not who he said he was. I told him that I did not have any friends here in Buenos Aires for whom I would be a primary emergency contact. The "officer" said that it would still be necessary for me to come down to the station to view the bodies and answer some questions, and he asked me to confirm which apartment I am renting in the building at Arenales 1492 (FYI, I am not posting my actual address here for obvious security reasons. I don't want Brett Richards showing up here asking if he can "crash" on my couch). I told the officer that I could not give that information to an unknown person over the phone, but that he was welcome to come to my building and speak with the guard downstairs. That is when I hung up.
After telling this story to Francisco and some other local friends, I have learned that this is a fairly common trick here in Buenos Aires. The man was almost certainly a con-artist and was probably a prisoner calling me from jail. He most likely chose my land-line phone number at random from the telephone directory. The directory likely would have included only my building address, and this explains how the caller knew which building I was in but not which specific apartment. Apparently prisoners will use phone calls like this to try to derive as much personal information as possible from the person answering the phone. The "officer" might have used this information in any number of ways. Here is a worst-case-scenario: First, he might pass the information on to someone "on the outside" that could use the information to follow me and eventually rob me. By robbing my cell phone, they could then contact a friend or family member to say that I had been kidnapped and to request some large amount of money as ransom. Of course when the friend or family member tries to call me, I do not answer because the theives have my cell phone. The hope is that the person would, in a moment of panic, transfer a bunch of money to the "kidnappers". This would all happen very quickly, and I would most likely still be stranded somewhere trying to find a way to get back to my apartment after the theives had mugged me and stolen my wallet.
Here is a link to an article about a variation of this type of con in Mexico. In this version, the con-artist calls you and pretends to be a representative from your cell provider. He/she explains that your number has been duplicated or subject to some time of account identity theft. He/she then tells you that in order for them to fix the problem, they will need you to turn off you cell phone for the next hour. Of course, as soon as you hang up the con-artist calls a friend or family member to say that you have been kidnapped. Just like the hypo above, you do not answer the call because you have turned off your cell phone.
Francisco says I definitely did the right thing by hanging up. I did not really know what was happening, but something about the situation just did not seem right. I am glad that I went with my gut on that one.
Check out this earlier post about crime in Latin America. Spoiler Alert: I tell the story of when I pulled a knife on the guy who was mugging me in Panama.
Francisco says I definitely did the right thing by hanging up. I did not really know what was happening, but something about the situation just did not seem right. I am glad that I went with my gut on that one.
Check out this earlier post about crime in Latin America. Spoiler Alert: I tell the story of when I pulled a knife on the guy who was mugging me in Panama.
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