“Grandma, before you say anything, I want you to know I don’t do drugs. But I have a problem.”

With those words, the world seemed to stop for Georgiana Moser of Leesburg.

The call came one morning earlier this summer. Moser was sleeping in, something she said she rarely does. Still waking up, she answered and heard that soft, timid sentence from who she thought was her grandson, William.

“Please don’t tell mom and dad. The officer will tell you what to do,” the young man continued.

William and a friend, it was soon explained by a so-called cop, had been traveling through Canada in a rental car. After being pulled over for speeding, the cop said, a small amount of drugs was found in the trunk.

“He told me, ‘the drugs weren’t enough to be considered trafficking, and, given it’s a rental car, the drugs may not even be his,’” Moser recalled the cop telling her.

“He really said it’s just a case of William being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she said.

This cop was just “so smooth,” Moser explained. Kind and calming, the officer told Moser that her grandson had spent the night in jail with his friend. The friend’s parents had just sent money for bond, and William wanted to call his grandma to see if she’d be willing to shell out the bond money.

“He said he really didn’t want his parents to find out,” Moser, 83, said.

Two-thousand dollars. Moser would need to send $2,000 to get her only grandson out of a Canadian jail, later described vaguely as the “Montreal jail” by the officer. The grandmother could wire the money to a local bondsman, but that would mean the arrest would be permanently on the young man’s record, the cop claimed. If she wired the money to a different bond company, one in South America, the arrest wouldn’t show up on his record, however.

Reflecting on that morning weeks later, Moser can see that maybe she wasn’t thinking straight. She wasn’t entirely awake, she notes. But more than anything, the man pretending to be a cop was just “so convincing.” He slowly walked her through what happened, stressed that her grandson hadn’t necessarily done anything wrong and wasn’t in danger, and carefully detailed what needed to be done in order to ensure the grandson’s safety.

“As soon as they say grandson, it’s a whole other ballgame,” Moser said, providing more explanation for why she may not have seen the bigger picture. 

To secure the $2,000, Moser went to Middleburg Bank in Leesburg, where she’s a customer. She was distraught. Walking in with tears on her face, Moser was quickly taken aside by the bank manager who asked what was going on. After the banker was briefed, she told Moser she didn’t feel good about the situation. The bank manager urged Moser to go to the Sheriff’s Office. William’s grandmother agreed.

Law enforcement officials pushed Moser to call her son in Ohio and ask if he’d talked to the grandson recently. Turns out he had. And he sure wasn’t in Canada. Georgiana Moser’s son said he’d just gotten off the phone with William.

At this point it was clear. A scammer was looking to bank upwards of $2,000 from Ms. Moser. From the details described, it’s unlikely it was the criminal’s first time.

Local law enforcement called the number Moser had for the fake cop and briefly spoke to someone, presumably the man from the initial morning call. “As soon as the police officer said he was with the sheriff’s office, the phone clicked,” Moser says. That was the last time there was any contact with con artist.

How could have the suspected criminal known about Moser’s situation, notably the name of her college-aged grandson? After researching online white pages with a friend, she said it was only a matter of minutes before she found her name, past and current residences and, sure enough, the fact she had a son and a grandson named William.

The tale of the Leesburg senior is hardly uncommon. Top-tier criminals are increasingly targeting the elderly for scams, including fake medicare discounts, telemarketing calls and direct mail ads.

“People who grew up in the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s were generally raised to be polite and trusting. Con artists exploit these traits, knowing that it is difficult or impossible for these individuals to say ‘no’ or just hang up the telephone,” the Federal Bureau of Investigation notes on its website.

Making matters worse, Virginia has some of the weakest laws in the U.S. to combat elderly exploitation. State Sens. Mark Herring and Jill H. Vogel have supported legislation in the General Assembly to strengthen those statutes and increase the penalties for those who committing crimes against the seniors.

Recognizing and reporting exploitation of the elderly is the most essential form of prevention, experts say. Every state has a helpline to report suspected or known cases of abuse.

For seniors themselves, measures they can take to avoid being the target of fraud include:

*Eliminating paper checks – social security, disability, insurance – whenever possible and opting for direct deposit;

*Keeping in touch with friends and family to avoid isolation;

*Placing the senior’s number on the do-not-call registry (donotcall.gov);

*Issuing a trusted friend or relative the power of attorney;

*Never giving out any personal banking or credit card info to anyone who seems suspect.

Moreover, if a financial, medical or insurance offer requires a quick decision, refrain from acting in haste. For her part, Moser expounds on this line of thought.

“If something like this happens, just take 30 minutes and calm down. Take 30 minutes and go to the sheriff’s office and talk about what happened,” she says.