Snapshots of Dementia: Scam Alert, Part 2
“What I would really like—is to have my Facebook back.”
It took Tom a much longer time to get those words out than it used to. But when he said it a few months ago, my answer didn’t change.
I’ve heard this request a few times since, at the request of our marriage counselors, he closed his Facebook account in 2018. I am far from a control freak. And the reason I will never say yes to this request is not so much because I’m worried about what he might post—if he could—but because that’s how the scammers initially found him.
Like many of us, Tom loved connecting with friends on Facebook. And eventually, scammers loved connecting with him too. I’m not sure how they initially found him, and doubt I want to know. But I do know that those villains I’ve learned are called “catfishers” got him, and through Facebook and email, they hooked him.
All through one summer and part of the fall, he was giving away money in the ways I mentioned in my last post. When I opened separate bank accounts, I wasn’t trying to keep him from our money but to protect it. Raising five children on a pastor’s salary plus my varying freelance income, we’d never had a lot extra. I had intended to use my now-regular income as savings for retirement. Instead, I had to pay off his huge credit card bills—and pay back our children’s college trust.
That fall, our marriage counselors asked Tom for an accounting of how much he had given away. I’m not sure he remembered it all. But with what he could account for, the total came to nearly $30,000. Had I not found that final uncashed check, it would have been at least $10,000 more.
Because the doctors still kept telling us he was fine, neither our counselors nor I associated his behavior with dementia. Serious problems, yes. Dementia—no one else seemed to think so, so why should I?
At least four times, Tom fell for scams as believable as the emails we’ve all gotten from the wealthy prince in Nigeria. Despite his interest in other women, his primary motivation was helping others. Even when, through counseling, I gained the strength to insist he stop contacting the catfishers or move out, he at first insisted he needed to keep his one remaining contact. After all, she was stuck in another country with no way to get home, and “she promised to pay me back.”
The few times I’ve shared even part of this story, people ask if we ever recouped our money. Not. A. Penny. Tom went to the police early on to complain about being blackmailed, and whatever they said convinced him there was nothing we could do. I don’t think he even realized the others were also scammers.
Since I knew he had willingly given up the funds and, at the time, didn’t know he had dementia, I never considered seeking legal help. It was all I could to hold my life, my job, and my marriage together; I didn’t have time or energy for much else. And I didn’t know there was an National Elder Fraud Hotline for schemes just like what we experienced.
Despite the financial losses, I can say without a doubt that gains came too. The counseling may not have helped Tom, but it helped me immensely. I learned that, although his choices weren’t my fault, my unhealthy patterns of codependent behavior allowed him to go as far as he did. I learned to take a more active role in every area of our marriage, especially the financial one. And I learned to speak up, something that stands me in good stead even today. If I had the do-over we’d all love, I would speak up more and louder—not just to doctors but to Tom’s boss at the time, our senior pastor.
The strength that I gained from that terrible time has allowed a person who has almost always been quiet, gentle, and hesitant to push myself forward to do everything from taking Tom to multiple neurologists to get the diagnosis we needed to applying for (and receiving) a mortgage completely on my own. It allowed me to insist (with the support of my children) that he give up driving. It allowed me to put together a freelance income that supports us today while allowing me to care for him at home. And it also gave—and continues to give—me the power to forgive my husband, to choose to believe the best rather than the worst, to recognize the problems as symptoms of his disease rather than character flaws, even while I realize that both played a part.
Every time I face an unwelcome task, I remember that God has given and will give me the strength. God has given and is giving Tom grace to live the best life he can even while LWD. And God will ultimately bring justice to the scammers.
Just as I won’t let my husband run out into a busy street, I won’t let him run out into cyberspace. I won’t let him have access to a credit card or bank accounts (he has never asked for this anyway). The benefits gained are not worth the risk.
Period.
As difficult as this story may be, especially for those of you have known and loved Tom through the years, I now know many stories of those LWD that are much worse. Some families have lost their homes, their cars, or all their savings. Some marriages have ended in divorce, violence, even death. I don’t see dementia—or scammers—around every corner, but I do have a heightened awareness of the problems that can accompany some of its variants, including vulnerability to catfishers and scammers such as those who preyed on Tom.
And I hope that now, you do as well.
If you or someone you care about has exhibited a drastic shift in personality, including any of the behaviors mentioned here, don’t wait. Take an active role in seeking answers. Take an active role in your finances. Be aware of potential scams. And please do what I failed to do for far too long—speak up and speak out.
Feel free to share your thoughts or concerns in the comments below or on social media. Our story matters, and so does yours. Part of my motivation in writing this blog is to help others find answers sooner than we did and to avoid some of the problems we faced. I’m praying for you, and I am confident: God will give you the strength.
