Jul. 19—Workers at Moscow’s Stinker Station save a dozen people a month from losing thousands of dollars to scammers. It’s a rampant problem where scammers scare people into depositing money in cryptocurrency kiosks to avoid jail or fines.
It may sound like a problem only for the gullible, but one skeptical Lewiston woman went so far as to withdraw $14,000 from her bank before she conquered her fear and called the cops.
“I was completely convinced,” said Kayla Yardley, 37, of Lewiston. “They knew my name and where I lived.” And they even texted official-looking U.S. District Court documents.
Yardley was on the phone with the scammer — who called her — for 2 hours and 12 minutes. They coaxed her into withdrawing at her bank, while convincing her to stay on the line and to tell nobody. They sent her to a Lewiston gas station where she was supposed to meet an agent, but instead was instructed to put her money into the cryptocurrency kiosk — a machine that allows people to buy and send bitcoins and is not connected to any bank.
When she saw the machine, she disconnected and called the police.
That account tracks with what Stinker Station Assistant Manager Jaci Nath, 24, is seeing.
Recently, Nath spotted a woman by the cryptocurrency kiosk talking on her phone.
“It’s the body language that tells us something is going on,” Nath said.
The woman turned away from the store workers, using her body to shield them from seeing her phone. That woman, it turns out, had driven from Pullman. A caller was telling her how to deposit $9,000 cash into the kiosk. Once she did that, she would never see the money again.
The caller made it seem like the woman had no choice.
“They were saying she was in deep trouble that she was going to lose her job and bad things would happen,” Nath said. As she has done numerous times before, Nath walked over to the woman and said, “I don’t think you’re talking to who you think you’re talking to.”
As she warned the woman, Nath heard an authoritative male voice, clear and a little “robotic,” saying, “Don’t listen to those girls.”
Store employees say a version of this happens 10 to 15 times a month. It started last year, a couple months after the crypto kiosk was installed. The store’s manager, Wayne Jacobs, was honored by the city in June for the store’s efforts to intervene in ongoing crypto kiosk scams.
Yardley, who has never been in legal trouble and has no experience dealing with police or attorneys, said people need to know how convincing these scammers are. The stern voice in unaccented English that was threatening her with jail and harsh penalties. It seemed so legit and the voice was also giving her a way out of this shocking situation, but only if she complied.
“He had an answer for everything,” she said:
While on the call, Yardley searched for the number and it was the same as the Nez Perce County Sheriff’s Office — the caller was “spoofing” the number.
The caller said Yardley faced severe penalties for failing to appear in court but could clear it up if she gave an agent $14,000 in cash.
Yardley said she had signed nothing. The caller said someone at her address had signed and she was in big trouble.
Yardley said she didn’t have $14,000, the caller said the federal government already knew how much money she had. Lying would mean bigger trouble.
When she asked for proof, the voice on the phone texted “scary” official-looking documents.
When she wanted to call the police, the voice said “they” were working with the police. Yardley could hear police scanners in the background.
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She couldn’t hang up because she would be “in noncompliance” and go to jail. They were watching her. They were everywhere.
The only way out was for them to give her a cashier’s check for the $14,000 once a federal handwriting analysis expert proved she really had not signed the document.
She would meet the handwriting expert at a gas station.
In the end, it was being confronted by a crypto kiosk instead of a person that saved Yardley’s cash. As terrifying as it all seemed, she took the risk to stop believing the voice.
Now she is telling everyone to be on the alert.
Notably, because no money was taken in Yardley’s case or under the watchful eyes of Stinker Station employees like Nath, there’s technically no crime to report.
The best defense is to remember not to take instructions from people who call or text you on the phone no matter how convincing they are. No one legitimate will ask you to pay from a cryptocurrency kiosk.
Ferguson can be reached at dferguson@lmtribune.com.
What to watch for
Lewiston Police Department’s Captain Jeff Klone said the scams are ongoing and it is “nearly impossible” to trace money deposited in a cryptocurrency kiosk. LPD is training officers to investigate these scams, but Klone says it’s better to avoid getting scammed at all.
Klone has some advice for spotting a scam:
The government will never ask you to pay anything in cryptocurrency.
Law enforcement don’t inform you of a warrant over the phone
Distrust a stranger telling you to do something quickly.
Distrust a stranger telling you not to tell anyone else.
Distrust a stranger saying they are watching.
Scammers “spoof” numbers to look like the call is from a real law enforcement number.
Scammers may use real names of real law enforcement officers — Klone once got a text from a scammer who was impersonating him.
Scammers may give you a number to call to prove their bona fides — it’s typically a partner in crime.
You should call the police using a number you found on your own.
Don’t click the links they text you.
If you feel embarrassed for falling victim to the scam, Klone said you need to report the crime anyway. It may be impossible to get the money back, but police still want to try to stop these tricky, persuasive thieves.