By T. D. Thornton
The names change, but the scam remains the same.
That was the watchword out of Southern California last week in the wake of news that an updated version of an old swindle is making the rounds.
Trainers are being targeted by someone claiming to represent a famously wealthy foreign businessman who wants to invest in high-level horses that the conditioner will be hired to train.
In reality, the con artist (or team of con artists) is banking that the “Wow!” factor of being contacted out of the blue by a high net-worth individual will blind them to the fact that the hustlers really just want access to the trainer's computer so they can harvest personal financial data, passwords, and access to bank accounts.
The crooks use the real name of a big shot from China, India, or the Middle East, then encourage the trainer to verify that person's existence by Googling them.
Everything checks out, but there is zero actual connection between the real mogul and the deceptive scammers.
Someone posing as an intermediary first calls to propose the deal. Once the trainer's trust is gained, the go-between drops the caveat that the alleged tycoon will only conduct subsequent business over ultra-secure, encrypted communication lines.
The trainer is then steered to a fake technology pro who allegedly works for the businessman in an effort to get the trainer to grant remote access to his phone or computer.
If this happens, the thief will then raid the device, while at the same time try to get the conditioner to turn over payment as high as several thousands dollars for custom encryption software that will never be installed.
It wouldn't be needed anyway. No real horse deal is in the pipeline, which the trainer might only figure out after it's too late.
One SoCal conditioner who requested anonymity described in detail last week to TDN how this scam recently played out for him (read that account here).
Another trainer on the circuit who nearly got victimized last year was willing to tell his tale on the record with the hope that he could spare others a similar ordeal.
Speaking via phone Friday just prior to eclipsing the 1,000 lifetime wins milestone with a runner at Del Mar, trainer Peter Miller said that a year after being targeted, he is still impressed by how skillfully the con artists used his own instincts against him to gain a psychological advantage.
“I remember that day they called me,” Miller said. “It was a dark [racing] day, and I was going golfing with a buddy of mine, and I remember being really excited. They told me their boss was an Indian billionaire.
“I looked his name up online, and there he was, a big partier, a larger-than-life kind of guy,” Miller continued. “They told me he had a $10-million line of credit at Keeneland, and I later checked that too. They said he wanted to buy some yearlings, and wanted me to train them. Everything lined up until they wanted access to my computer, because Mr. so-and-so is so powerful and rich that he needs secure lines of communication.”
The definitive book about confidence manipulation is David W. Maurer's The Big Con, which was published in 1940 but is still strikingly relevant today. Maurer was a University of Louisville linguistics professor who gained access to America's fraternity of grifters in an era when con men guarded their methods as carefully as magicians abide by a strict code of honor. The common traits of scams that Maurer complied in The Big Con nearly 80 years ago read like a checklist that trainer-targeting hustlers today might use as a guide.
Skilled swindlers take the time to research their victims, which in this case takes the form of knowing about the trainer and the racing marketplace. Then they establish a focal point of trust, often by dangling the lure of easy riches (“My boss wants to give you $10 million to spend on horses”). The scammers then “slip the convincer” (everything checks out when a trainer performs due diligence), which generally leads to the victim reciprocating trust (by granting access to their computer). “Giving the breakdown” comes next (the need for encryption software is introduced as a minor hiccup; presented as a worthwhile upfront cost that will pay stratospheric dividends).
By the time the grifters actually “take off the touch” (getting payment and/or banking information), the only thing left to do is “blow off” the quarry. This is often accomplished by the victim himself: Embarrassment at being hoodwinked can keep people who get rooked in a con game from going to the police to report the crime.
“Any time you tickle somebody's greedy bone, it gets their interest,” Miller said, recalling the giddy feeling he had when the handlers of the supposed billionaire first contacted him. “That's how con artists work. They say, 'I can make a million dollars for you. I can do this for you. I can do that for you.' And you kind of lose your common sense there for a minute. You think, 'This guy's the third-richest man in India, and he wants to hire me to train his horses?' I'm in! I'm not looking for reasons to doubt him–I'm looking for reasons to believe him.
“It's just human nature,” Miller continued. “It's exactly why con artists are everywhere in society–because our own human nature wants us to believe that we can become rich beyond our wildest dreams. Or, in this case, even just to be able to say, 'I just got hired by the third-richest man in India.' Those opportunities don't fall in your lap every day.”
In Miller's case, though, it was certainly plausible that he might get a lucrative offer, especially considering that the call came shortly after his two-win Breeders' Cup in 2017.
“I have been very fortunate where I've had some very wealthy guys call and ask me to train for them,” Miller said. “So it wasn't completely out of the realm. I'm like: Okay, this guy's following me, we're doing well, and he decided to pick me to be his trainer. That's reasonable. But then, when they want access to my computer? I'm like, 'I don't think so.' Now it's getting a little fishy here. We terminated our business relationship at that point, and fortunately they didn't get anything from me.”
Miller said in the aftermath of his realization that he'd been targeted, he phoned a friend in Canada and started to relate the story to him. Miller started to say “I just got this weird phone call from an Indian billionaire…” when his buddy finished the sentence for him, supplying the exact name the hustlers had used. The con artists had been active at Woodbine, too.
“This is a widespread kind of scam. Definitely get the word out,” Miller said. “Get a warning out there to all trainers to beware of anybody who claims to be a billionaire and wants you to train horses for them.”
Geoffrey Russell, the director of sales operations for Keeneland, told TDN that trainers are welcome to call and verify if potential clients do, in fact, have credit.
“We can say yes or no, but we never give the amount or anything like that unless we get permission from the principal,” Russell said. He added that another ruse to look out for is if someone begins an online credit application and prints it out without having submitted it. “Application and authorization aren't the same thing,” he said.
Maurer, the con artist expert, ended his book with a nugget of wisdom that still rings true:
“Confidence games are cyclic phenomena. They appear, rise to a peak of effectiveness, then drop into obscurity. Sooner or later they are revived, refurbished to fit the times, and used to trim some sucker who has never heard of them.”
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