When every ping or buzz on our device could be a scammer, how can we recognise any red flags and protect ourselves? Insight hears from those who've been hit hard by scammers but are fighting back. Watch Insight episode Scammed on SBS On Demand.
When I was legally put in charge of my parents' financial decisions, I didn't think it would end in being scammed out of most of our inheritance.
The youngest of five sisters, I was determined to act in Mum and Dad's best interests — not just legally, but morally.
My dad died in 2019 when he was 90 years old. Mum's health declined soon after, with a series of strokes and a major heart attack.
By late 2022, it became clear Mum needed specialised care. We made the hard decision to move her into an aged care home.
Letting go of our family home was the next heartbreak.
That house held five generations of memories; packing it up took a full year. The house finally sold in November 2023.
After paying off a reverse mortgage and Mum's care accommodation expenses, approximately $2 million remained. Our family had never seen that kind of money.
I sought professional financial advice and set $400,000 aside for Mum's future needs.
The remaining $1.6 million was to go into a conservative fixed-term deposit. Safe and sensible — or so I thought.

Harriet's late parents. Source: Supplied
The man had an offer on term deposits and said he was from my bank. He seemed to really know his stuff.
I told the man to call back closer to settlement, which he did.
He offered a fixed-term deposit with a decent rate. I checked with my family, and we agreed to proceed.
'No reason to doubt'
The man emailed me official-looking documents and a brochure, which were all marked with my bank's branding.
He said that because my bank is an international one, the funds had to go into a "segregated client account" with a completely different bank.
He walked me through it all and even read a legal disclaimer aloud — I agreed. I had never done a term deposit before and had no reason to doubt I was dealing with my bank.
I emailed Mum's bank and told them I was transferring $1.6 million into what I believed was a term deposit in my name.
They questioned the account being at a different bank, and I explained to them what the man had told me.
They asked no further questions and processed the payment.
Two weeks passed. I contacted Mum's bank about transferring the remaining $400,000.
That's the moment I found out the $1.6 million was gone.
A 'mule' account
I found out the term deposit account I transferred the $1.6 million to wasn't in my name. It was in a stranger's name and appeared to be a 'mule' account used by criminals to move money around.
I was told the money had been moved into 10 different Australian bank accounts the day after I'd transferred it — and then overseas. As far as I'm aware, only one of those banks flagged it as a suspicious transaction with my Mum's bank.
But by that time, it was too late.
The police traced the initial receiving account and confirmed it was a 'mule' account created to launder stolen funds.
I was told that only $232 was all that was left of the $1.6 million after the transactions had been made.
I felt sick. Not just from the loss, but from the feeling of betrayal I felt of the systems that are meant to financially protect us.
My parents were schoolteachers who did important work; Mum even received an Order of Australia Medal for community service. That money wasn't just cash; it was my parents' legacy, and our security.
That money could have been a house deposit for a grandchild, a small business loan, retirement funds, a future for ten grandchildren.
Now, I believe it's likely funding something horrific.

Harriet's mother when she was younger. Source: Supplied
I haven't been able to see any proof of where the money went.
I was told the adage: "if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is" by one of the banks, which feels like victim blaming to me.
The police arrested the criminals who ran the mule accounts, but that won't bring Mum's money back.
The Australian Financial Complaints Authority can't help me as the amount lost exceeds their reimbursement limit.
I feel frustrated that I haven't been able to get clarity on what exactly happened or where the money went.
'How could I have fallen for this?'
At first, I blamed myself.
I manage multimillion-dollar projects in my professional life. I'm methodical and cautious; how could I have fallen for this?
But the more I dug, the more I realised: this isn't a story about me. This is a story about a system I feel is failing thousands of Australians: digital banking.
I feel there is a greater onus placed on the consumer when things go wrong, and it's often hard to bring scammers to justice.
I think there needs to be more external regulation of our banks — especially in an age when scams are increasingly malicious and are harder to recognise.
This is why I've joined with other victims to form a not-for-profit organisation, Scam Victim Alliance, which lobbies for legislative change.
We want banks to be held more accountable. We want more transparency and better access to evidence for victims.
Above all, we want a seat at the table.
Today, I'm still fighting.
We haven't recovered the money. Perhaps we never will. But I've stopped blaming myself.
I know now this wasn't a personal failure — it's systemic. It happened to me and my family, but it could have been anyone.
It is happening to thousands of Australians every year; and I believe it's going to get worse as AI gets better and criminals hone their skills.
I lost my family's inheritance. But I refuse to lose my voice.
If you or someone else is in immediate danger, call 000.
If you've had your personal or financial information stolen, immediately contact your bank or credit card provider and tell them to stop any transactions. You can report scams to Scamwatch or ReportCyber.
And for more stories on sex, relationships, health, wealth, grief and more, head to Insightful — an SBS podcast series hosted by Kumi Taguchi. Follow us on the SBS Audio App, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts.