Cloned Boy
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The Dark Side of the Internet: 5 Shocking Stories.
A collection of five documentary stories over two hours long, based on real events. We will tell you:
All the stories have one thing in common — human choice, the temptation of easy money and the line beyond which there is no stopping. This is not fiction — this is the reality of the digital underground, told in the first person.
Secrets of the darknet, money laundering schemes, phishing, crypto, affiliate, traffic, microloans, drops — without gloss and romanticization.
For those who want to understand how the criminal Internet works from the inside — with psychology, emotions and without embellishment.
Important: All information is for educational purposes only.
3 million rubles. That's how much passed through my hands in 8 months. I thought I had found an easy way to make money, but in fact it was not my money. And when I realized what was behind it, I wanted to turn back time, but it was too late. Now I will tell you how a teenager can become part of a criminal scheme. In 2018, I was 16. I lived in an ordinary regional city. I was an average student, I didn't have many friends.
But since I was 12, I spent all my time at the computer. I studied the darknet, anonymous forums, hacker groups. I had a talent for data analysis, I could spend hours studying leaks, finding patterns, connections between people. On September 15, 2018, I came across a strange topic on one forum. A new way to monetize databases. The author with the nickname Datamaster wrote vaguely about risk-free transactions and a stable income.
In the comments, a bunch of teenagers bragged about new iPhones and laptops bought in a month or two of work. Curiosity got the better of me, the datamaster wrote in a private message. He gave me a simple data analysis test. I did it in half an hour. On September 17 at 8 p.m. I went to his private Telegram channel. About 20 people, mostly teenagers. And then the datamaster explained the scheme.
Using personal data from leaked databases, issue microloans on other people's passports. You take the data of a person with a good credit history. You go to the info site, fill out a form, get money on your card. He explained calmly. "What about those people?" someone asked. "We didn't steal their data. Most of them won't even notice the loan for months. And when they do, they'll write off the money to the scammers and return it through insurance."
It sounded logical. One transaction - 10-15 thousand in profit. Experienced people did 3-4 a week. "We give beginners a free starter data package," the data master said. "The first three transactions under our control - split the profit in half. Tuition. I'm ready to try," I wrote. "Tomorrow I'll send you the instructions and test data, we'll start with a 30 thousand loan." I couldn't sleep that night. For the first time, I had the opportunity to earn serious money with my skills.
I felt special. But that wasn't the strangest thing. The strangest thing was how I even found out about it. That forum, that post, everything appeared in my life as if by order. As if someone knew that a teenager like me would definitely bite. In the morning, a message came from the datamaster with data and step-by-step instructions.
Sergey Vladimirovich Istambovo, a full package of documents from some bank leak. Full name, passport, phone number, address, place of work, even photos of documents. The instructions turned out to be simpler than I expected. You choose an MFI with minimal verification, log in via VPN, register using someone else's data, and enter your card number to receive money. The main thing is to answer the questions on the form correctly so as not to arouse suspicion from the security service.
At 14.30, I went to the site and got money right away. One of the most loyal MFIs, according to the data master. My hands were shaking when I entered someone else's passport data, and I was expecting an error or additional checks every second. Sergey. A mechanic at a factory. Salary 35 thousand. The purpose of the loan is to buy household appliances. Amount 30 thousand for 30 days.
The most difficult part was with the phone. I needed to enter Sergey's number, but receive SMS on my own. The data master said that he would handle the redirection himself, but did not disclose the details. I submitted an application. I spent the next 4 hours nervously waiting, checking my email every 10 minutes. My head was spinning with thoughts – what if they catch me? What if it’s a scam? What if Sergey suddenly decides to check my credit history? A couple of days later I received an SMS saying something like: “
Unfortunately, we cannot approve a loan of 30 thousand rubles at the moment.” But there is good news for you – a loan of 15 thousand rubles has been approved. The funds will arrive within an hour. This was a standard procedure, since the first clients can only be approved for a loan of up to 20 thousand in this office. About half an hour later, there were 15 thousand rubles on the card. I stared at the phone screen, rereading the SMS from the bank.
15 thousand for 5 hours of work. “Congratulations on your first transaction. Your share is 8 thousand,” the data master wrote. 8 thousand – net profit for one day. I was already imagining the purchases – a new video card, SSD, maybe an iPhone. But the data master warned me. The main rule is not to squander everything at once. Parents should not suspect anything amiss. Spend gradually, explain to earnings from freelancing.
I withdrew the money, hid it at home in an old book. I told my parents that I was working part-time. I check questionnaires for social surveys. The next day - the second operation. A woman from Voronezh, an accountant, a loan of 50 thousand. A large amount means a thorough check, but your share will be 22 thousand, ”the data master warned. This woman had already taken out loans and returned them, so 50 thousand was approved for her without any problems.
By the end of the week, I had 45 thousand rubles - more than I had seen in my entire life. At the same time, the data master taught me how to work with databases, showed how to look for fresh leaks on the darknet, check for authenticity, choose suitable targets. The main thing is analysis. Choose people who rarely check their credit history. Ideal targets are public sector employees, pensioners with low incomes, residents of small towns.
They may not know about the loan for months, he explained. Data analysis has always been my strong point. By the end of September, I could independently find the database, select a dozen targets, check their credit history through special services. “Are you a capable student. Ready to work independently?” the data master asked. “Of course, I was ready.” Splitting the profits in half was starting to irritate.
He added me to the closed channel of the data master team. Fifteen people from different cities. Only Nikki, Sifer, Bythanter, DataGost, Shedakodr. The atmosphere was friendly, they shared successes, advised, warned about dangerous and MFIs. At the end of October, the data master revealed the main secret. Our team is only a part of a huge network. We cover the Central Federal District, but there are teams in Siberia, the Urals, the Volga region. In total, there are more than a thousand people in the network. A thousand people.
If each one makes an operation a week - more than a hundred million a month. The scale was amazing. “Who is in charge?” I asked. “Only the regional coordinators know. We work on the principle of cells, it is safer for everyone. By the end of October, I was earning a stable 80 to 100 thousand a month. I bought a new computer, expensive sneakers, an iPhone 13.
My parents noticed the money, but I explained it by my success in freelancing. I felt like the king of the world, but on November 3, everything changed. I was doing a routine operation on a woman from Ryazan, an accountant, 34 years old, a loan of 40 thousand. Everything went as usual, but in the evening the data master sent an emergency message. Everyone must immediately stop operations. Targets receive calls from bank security services. It got cold. The leak meant a failure in the chain.
Perhaps someone was caught or the Curator gave the command. "What to do?" asked Bythunter. - We are waiting. In a week, it will become clear how serious it is. The main thing is not to rat anyone out. The week of waiting was hell. Every day I waited for the police to call. I slept poorly, I could not concentrate at school. Several times I wanted to quit. November 10 - lights out. False alarm, problem in another region didn’t reach us.
I breathed a sigh of relief. But that scare taught me the main rule – always be prepared for a collapse. By December 2019, I thought I knew all the rules of the game. I knew how to find bases, conduct operations, and earned more than many adults. I felt like a real professional. Until I was offered something I couldn’t refuse. On December 12, 2019, the datamaster wrote, “Seeker is ready to move to the next level.
Do you want to become a curator of your own team?” Being a curator meant managing people, getting a percentage of their operation, access to exclusive bases, and a lot more money. “You’ll find 5-7 guys in your region. You’ll coordinate the work, distribute bases. You’ll get a 30% commission from each operation. Plus VIP bases, targets with limits of up to 200 thousand,” he explained, doing a quick calculation.
"Seven people, two transactions a week for 50 thousand. My share is about 400 thousand a month. "Ready," I answered without thinking. Finding a team was easy. The same darknet forums, Telegram channels, plus guys from school who needed money. The first one I found was a teenager, I'll call him Filin, from a single-parent family. He came up to me after school. "Want to earn some extra money?"
"Data analysis." - "They pay well." He wasn't lying, we really did analyze data. I just didn't specify why. In three days, Filin mastered what took me a week. The second was a guy from a neighboring school. I found him through a channel about cryptocurrencies. I nicknamed him Fast and Furious for his energy. Technician, 18 years old, college student. Cyborg. I gave such an ironic nickname to the only female programmer on our team.
And there was another guy, I simply called him Fifth. Because he was the last to join us. By the end of December, a team of five people was working. Everyone had completed training and performed their first operations. Forsage turned out to be the most active, three operations a week, 150 thousand a month, for which he received his nickname. Filin is more cautious, but more stable. In January 2020, Datemaster gave access to VP databases.
A completely different level, targets with incomes of 100-200 thousand, limits up to half a million. But the rule is no more than one operation per month per person. The first VIPIP operation. Andrey Sergeevich, director of an IT company from Lipetsk. Income - 300 thousand. I took out a loan for 400 thousand for "business development". Two days of checks, but the money arrived. My share is 120 thousand for one operation.
By February, the team worked like clockwork. Five people, eight to ten operations a week, turnover of two million a month. My share is 250-300 thousand. Felt like a businessman. Had to lie to my parents about cryptocurrency trading. Bought a phone for my mom, tools for my dad. They were happy about my success. We met with the team once a week in an abandoned building, discussed plans, celebrated operations. Forsage bought the car of his dreams.
Filin helped his mother with her debts. Cyborg saved up to study in Moscow. For the first time, I was not a lonely teenager. I was the leader of the team. But on March 15, an incident occurred. Forsage issued a loan to a woman from Kursk. Tatyana Aleksandrovna. 39 years old. Administration. 80 thousand went smoothly. But 3 days later, he dropped the news from the Kursk VK group. Fundraising for the treatment of employee Tatyana A, who was diagnosed with cancer.
The family is in a difficult financial situation. It became uncomfortable. We issued a loan to a woman with cancer who needs money for treatment. And now she has a debt of 80 thousand with interest. Coincidence? We did not know. I wrote in the chat. But the aftertaste remained. For the first time in six months, I saw the face of a real victim. Before that, the targets were just data. And then... A living woman with problems.
On March 25, the datamaster wrote. I have a serious offer, I'm waiting in Discord at 6. We We called each other via voice channel, his voice was emotionless. "Your team is showing excellent results, it's time to move on to the next level," he said. "Corporate loans. The amount is from a million to ten, your share is ten percent of the transaction. But there are other risks. We need fake certificates, fictitious documents, bribery of MFI employees."
he warned. "This is already a direct criminal offense." I answered. "The same, only the amounts are larger, plus access to the upper echelon. He sent a photo. A young man in an expensive suit with a white Bentley. The creator of the system. At 28, he owns a network for half of Russia and brings in more than a billion a year. Think about it until the end of the week. Not everyone gets such offers.
He said it and hung up. Corporate loans are a qualitatively new level of crime. But also real money. On April 2, I made a decision. And then I got a message that made me delete all contacts and burn the SIM card. On April 2, 2020, I made a decision that could change my life forever. I wrote to the data master. I agree to the corporate level.
The answer came in an hour. Great. Tomorrow you will get access to the new system. Welcome to the big league. On April 3, they sent me a login and password for the closed platform. The interface was professional, not a homemade site, but a real CRM system with databases, statistics, a task system. Teenagers from forums no longer worked here, but adults with experience. The first corporate operation was scheduled for April 10.
The target was Stroyinvest LLC from Voronezh. A construction company with a turnover of 50 million per year. It was necessary to issue a loan for 3 million to expand the business. Senior curators will take care of the documents, the data master explained. Your task is to analyze the company and prepare a dossier for the MFI security service. I studied Stroyinvest for a week. Founders, financial statements, current contracts, reputation in the market.
The company was real, successful, with a clean history. The perfect target. On April 8, the documents were submitted to corporate solutions. A large MFI specializing in business lending. Fake income certificates, fictitious contracts. A bank statement on the movement of funds. Everything was done professionally. On April 12, the application was approved. 3 million rubles. My share is 300 thousand for 2 weeks of work.
But it was on that day that everything went wrong. On the evening of April 12, when I was celebrating the success of the first corporate operation, I received a private message from an unfamiliar account. "Hi, Sicker. They know who you are. My blood ran cold." The account had been created an hour ago. No history or messages. I immediately wrote to the team chat. "Guys, has anyone received strange messages?" "I got one too," Filin replied. "Some kind of left-wing account."
And Forsage wrote to me. It turns out that the stranger contacted each of us personally. But how did he get our contacts? The stranger sent another message. "I'll be waiting for you in Discord tomorrow at eight. Come if you want to stay free." I immediately wrote to the datamaster, but he didn't answer. Then I tried to contact other curators from the system. Silence. On April 13 at 8 pm, we entered the specified channel. A man with the nickname Archivist was waiting for us there.
"Guys, I have bad news for you," he said in a calm voice. "Your network has been leaked." "Stop," I interrupted. "Who are you anyway? How do you know our contacts? Why should we trust you?" Forsage added. "Maybe you work for the police yourself? Or are you trying to scam us?" Cyborg supported. Archivist was silent for a few seconds.
"I understand the mistrust. But I have information that will prove the seriousness of the situation." He sent a screenshot to the chat, correspondence, a data master with some curator, where the details of our latest operations were discussed. "Information that only we knew." "Where is this from?" Filen asked. "From the FSB archive. "They have been intercepting correspondence for several months. What does this mean?" Forsage asked. "It means that law enforcement agencies have a complete database of all participants.
All correspondence, call records, transaction details, including your real names and addresses." The world around me collapsed. The complete database meant that we were all identified. And soon they would come with searches. "But who leaked it? One of ours?" I asked. Worse. The very creator of the system, who was shown to you as an example of success. It turns out that he has been working with the FSB for the past six months.
"No way," the technician wrote. "He is the head of the entire system." That is exactly why he was recruited. Caught on something big, agreed to cooperate in exchange for freedom. The guy in the expensive suit I wanted to know more about. It turns out that he not only created the system, but also turned in everyone who worked in it. “You have a maximum of forty-eight hours,” the Archivist continued.
“Then mass arrests will begin. There’s only one piece of advice: disappear. Delete all accounts, change your numbers, get rid of the evidence.” “And who are you?” the Technician asked. “And why are you warning us?” “The former curator of the northwestern region. I was lucky.” “Did you find out about the leak before anyone else?” “I have a friend in the FSB who took the risk of warning us.”
“I’m passing the information on because of old friendship.” “And how do we know this isn’t a trap?” Cyborg asked. “You don’t know. But turn on the news tomorrow morning. The first arrests will begin in Moscow and St. Petersburg. The central curators have not yet reached the regional teams as a priority. But it’s a matter of time. A week at most.” “So they’re not looking for us yet?” Filin asked. "Not yet. But as soon as they deal with the main figures, they will take on the performers.
So you have time to clean everything up and disappear. The main thing is that there is no direct evidence. Without computers, correspondence and witnesses, it is difficult to prove anything. And what if it is too late to remove traces? Forsage asked? Then prepare to land. For such amounts they give from three to ten years. The connection was lost. That night I did not sleep. I sat at the computer and methodically destroyed all traces of my activities.
I deleted accounts, emails, Telegram, formatted hard drives, burned SIM cards. By morning, nothing remained of my digital life. On April 14, I called the team. Everyone was in a panic. "What are we going to do?" Cyborg asked. "We'll scatter," I said. "We'll delete all contacts, forget about each other. If someone is taken, we won't turn anyone in.
" "And the money?" Forsage asked. What money? We've never worked together. We don't even know each other. I sat at home and waited. Every knock on the door, every ring of the intercom made my heart skip a beat. But the days passed, and no one came for me. A week later, I realized why. I accidentally came across an article on the Internet about victims of microloan scammers. Among the photos, I saw a familiar face. Tatyana Aleksandrovna from Kursk.
The same woman for whom Forsage issued a loan. Tatyana has been battling cancer for six months, journalists wrote. But recently it turned out that loans totaling 340 thousand rubles were issued in her name. Collectors demand repayment of the debt, ignoring the woman's health. The family is on the verge of bankruptcy. 340 thousand. It turns out that we issued not one loan, but several.
And now the dying woman owes banks money that she never took. Further in the article there were stories of other victims. A pensioner from Tambov who lost his apartment because of a debt on a loan that he did not issue. A family from Ryazan who can't get a mortgage because their credit history is ruined by our operations. A young mother who was fired from her job after calls from debt collectors. I read these stories and understood. Every number in our reports was someone's ruined life.
Every successful operation meant that an ordinary person would get problems they didn't deserve. In eight months of work, three million rubles passed through my hands, but I earned them on the tears and suffering of hundreds of people who didn't even know it. By May 2020, most of the network participants were arrested. But they left us alone. The creator of the network did not have complete information about the regional teams.
Maybe he was lucky. Or maybe one of those arrested covered for me by not giving me up under interrogation. But I couldn't stand it anymore. Now, almost two years later, I understand the main thing. There is no easy money on the Internet. If you are offered to get rich quickly with someone else's data, it always means that someone will suffer. And sooner or later you yourself will suffer. The three million that passed through my hands cost me sleep, peace and humanity.
I went from a curious teenager to a criminal who ruined lives for money, and the worst thing is that I did it consciously. After the story with Tatyana, I realized that I was hurting people. But I continued because money seemed more important than other people's suffering. Sicker's story collected more than 500 comments. Some shared similar stories about how teenagers are drawn into microloan schemes. Others argued about where the line is between a victim of circumstances and a conscious criminal.
The story of Tatyana Aleksandrovna from Kursk received especially many responses. Several users wrote that they recognized their friends in the description who became victims of similar schemes. And the most disturbing thing is that such stories are becoming more and more common. The Darknet is full of offers of easy money for teenagers. And the only way to check the veracity of the promises is to try.
2.7 million dollars. That's how much has passed through my hands over the past two years. I thought I was rich. But when I realized whose money it was and what they were paying for, I wanted to get every cent back. But you can't just quit this game. My nickname is Alex94. At least that's how I was known online. I won't tell you my real name, nor the city I'm from. I'll just say that it's a small place in the east, where the most interesting event is the opening of a new supermarket.
I lived with my uncle after my parents died. He worked at a factory, there was never enough money, but we somehow got by. Summer 2020. Pandemic, quarantine, everyone is sitting at home. I was 16. The only thing that brightened up these endless days was games. CSGO, Dota, sometimes some browser games. The ordinary life of a teenager who dreams of a new video card, but understands that her uncle's salary won't pull it off.
On June 22, 2020, I was sitting in the discord channel of my CS:GO team, when someone sent a link to a telegram channel into the general chat. The link had a short message "Easy money on the Internet. No investment. Verified." Usually I ignore such spam, but then, I don't know, maybe boredom, or maybe despair from the fact that there were a measly 15 rubles on my Steam account.
The channel was called something like "Izzy Money Hub." About three thousand subscribers, posts every day, Earnings schemes, screenshots of transfers, a success story. A classic scam, I thought. But one post caught my attention. Casino affiliate programs. Bring a player, get a percentage of his losses. For life. Under the post there was a link to some European casino and a promo code.
Using this promo code when registering, each of your friends will bring you from 50 to 200 dollars a month. At first, I was just studying. Reading reviews, watching how it works. It turned out that the scheme is simple. You register in the affiliate program, get a unique link and a promo code, distribute among friends and acquaintances. They play, you get a commission. On July 3, 2020, I registered with my first affiliate program.
I started with gaming friends, posted a link to a few discord servers, and wrote to a couple of classmates. “Try it, they double your first deposit, you can win enough for a new mouse,” it sounded harmless. The first money came in a week. $23. I looked at the notifications in the affiliate program’s telegram bot and couldn’t believe my eyes. $23 just for sharing the link.
By the end of July, I already had $89 on my balance. By the end of August, $156. I got hooked on this buzz like a drug addict on a fix. Every morning, the first thing I did was check the statistics. How many new registrations, how many deposits, how much money. Then I thought it was just advertising. That I was helping people find entertainment, and at the same time earning pocket money. Naive idiot. In September 2020, I expanded my geography. I started posting promo codes in Russian gaming publics on VKontakte, on forums about earnings, even in the comments to YouTube videos.
Everywhere where people who wanted quick money gathered. By October, my monthly income exceeded $ 500. For a 16-year-old kid from the provinces, this was astronomical money. My uncle earned about the same, toiling at a factory for 12 hours a day. But on November 15, 2020, at 3:47 am, I received a message that changed everything.
An account without a photo, without a name. Just a set of numbers and letters, user, underscore 7-7-2-9-3-9-4. I saw your casino results. Not bad for a beginner, ready for serious money. I looked at the phone screen in complete darkness, my heart pounding. Who is this? How did he find out about my results? And most importantly, what does he mean by serious money? I didn’t know that this simple question in a night message would be the beginning of a journey.
Which would lead me to a place from which there is no return. I stared at this message for about 15 minutes before I decided to answer. “Who are you?” I wrote, trying to appear calm. The answer came in 3 minutes. “The one who sees potential. Your results in 4 months are impressive.
More than a thousand dollars in net profit with zero investment. But you work like an amateur. That’s for the point. What do you mean an amateur? Spamming promo codes in chats is a schoolboy’s level. You don’t want to be content with pennies all your life, do you? He was right. With all my successes, 400 or 500 dollars a month was far from the money I dreamed of. And then… someone appears who promises serious money.
What do you offer, I wrote. Meeting tomorrow at 7 p.m. Discord is a private channel. Bring me the statistics for the last two months. I'll show you how to increase your income tenfold. I doubted it. Meet with an unknown guy from the Internet? On the other hand, what did I have to lose? The statistics could be faked anyway, and it wouldn't hurt to learn something new. On November 16, 2020, I connected to the Discord voice channel.
Nickname of the interlocutor. Mentor X. The voice of an adult man, the accent is difficult to determine - either Ukrainian or Belarusian. He spoke clearly, without unnecessary words. Show the statistics. He said without greetings. I expanded the screen with the affiliate panel. Forty-seven active referrals. Four hundred twenty-three dollars for the last month. The average check is eighty-nine dollars.
Primitive. Mentor X summarized. You are catching small fry in troubled waters instead of going after the big fish. How much time do you spend a day on advertising? Two or three hours. Posting in public groups. Replies to comments. Hence the result. You work like a spammer, not a marketer. He was silent. Ready to learn. The mentor gave me a lecture on affiliate marketing for the next two hours.
I learned about targeted advertising, about sales funnels, about audience segmentation, about the fact that instead of stupid spam you need to create warm traffic. Imagine, instead of 50 random players, you have 10 targeted ones. But each of them brings in not 8 bucks a month, but from 50 to 80. Do you feel the difference? I felt it. It was math that changed the game dramatically.
“But there is a nuance,” he added, “quality traffic requires investment. Advertising, landing pages, analytics… I am ready to invest 200 bucks in my training. 200 dollars was half of my savings. But if he was telling the truth, it will pay off in a month.” “Agreed,” I said. “Great. You will receive the instructions tomorrow. On November 11, I received a 23-page file.
A guide to targeted traffic arbitrage for the “gambling vertical.” I read it for three days in a row, taking notes. The main idea was simple - instead of spam, create advertising campaigns, buy traffic on Facebook and Google, directing it through landing pages to affiliate links. But the devil was in the details. Mentor X taught me how to work with Volum, a tracker that masked affiliate links.
He showed me how to set up tracking pixels and how to create multiple funnels for different types of audiences. “Facebook bans gambling ads,” he explained during our weekly calls. “But if you advertise earning strategies or investment courses, and then lead to a casino through a landing page, that’s a gray area.” By the end of November, I launched my first advertising campaign.
The budget was $50 — targeting men aged 25 to 45 who were interested in cryptocurrencies. The landing page was about the secrets of earning on Bitcoin, which at the end offered to “test” the strategy on a demo account at a partner casino. The result exceeded expectations. In a week — 23 registrations, 12 deposits, $540 in profit. With costs of $50, it was incredible. “Now you get the point,” Mentor X said on the next call. “Scale up.”
December 2020 was spent in constant work. I tested creatives, optimized funnels, studied analytics. Every day - new companies, new approaches to the audience. By the New Year, my monthly income exceeded $ 2,500. I felt like a real entrepreneur. But in January 2021, something changed. Mentor X began to offer more aggressive methods.
“Do you want to reach the next level?” he asked on January 15 during our regular call. “What do you mean? Until now, you have worked with legal affiliate programs. But there are other opportunities. Offers with higher payouts. From $ 200 to $ 500 per lead instead of $ 30 or $ 50. I am interested. " “What offers? Forex? " “Binary options.
Crypto investments. Let's just say that not all brokers work with completely clean licenses. Red flags started to develop in my head, but greed was stronger. And the risks? Minimal, if you know how to work. The main thing is to properly design traffic and not show up. On January 28, 2021, a mentor sent me a list of new affiliate programs. The names were unfamiliar, but the payouts were impressive.
$300 for a deposit of $500, $150 for registration with verification. “Try a couple of offers,” he wrote. “If it works, I’ll introduce you to a closed team. They work with even more interesting projects there.” A closed team. These words were mesmerizing. I imagined an elite club of professionals earning tens of thousands of dollars a month. Then I didn’t know that this invitation would become a one-way ticket.
On February 5, 2021, after two weeks of working with new offers and earning $5,300, I received a message from the mentor. “Show us 10 thousand turnover per month. You will learn what real money is. An invitation to a closed channel will be waiting. " I looked at these words, and adrenaline boiled in my blood. 10 thousand revolutions seemed like an achievable goal. But I had no idea what door I was about to open.
March 2021. I was sitting in front of the computer at 2.30 am, updating the statistics in the tracker every 5 minutes. There were 3 days left until the end of the month, and I was only $ 280 short of the coveted 10 thousand turnover. Over the past weeks, I turned into a traffic generation machine. I slept 4-5 hours, the rest of the time I tested creatives, launched campaigns, responded to leads in messengers.
My uncle began to worry, seeing how thin and haggard I was. "Are you a drug addict?" he asked one evening, looking into my room. "Working," I answered, without looking up from the monitor. "What kind of work at 17? You have exams coming up. If he knew that his nephew earns ten times more than him... On March 29 at 23:47 I closed the last deal of the month.
Total turnover: $10,247. I took a screenshot of the statistics and sent it to the mentor. The answer came in an hour. Not bad. Tomorrow at 8 p.m. you will receive a link to a closed channel. Welcome to the League of Professionals. March 30, 2021. A Telegram channel called Inner Circle Pro. 47 Seven members, all with nicknames without photos.
Messages were deleted automatically every twenty-four hours. The first thing I saw was a pin with rules. First, no personal data. Second, no screenshots of correspondence. Third, discussion only in the channel. Fourth, violation equals permanent ban. The channel admin, coordinator Zira, wrote to me in a private message.
Newbie. The mentor speaks highly of your results, they work differently here. Not affiliate programs for schoolchildren, but a serious business. Ready to meet the team? The next few days I just read the correspondence in the channel, trying to understand what they do here. We discussed some companies, traffic supplies, white and gray funnels. The amounts mentioned were completely different - tens and hundreds of thousands of dollars. The channel participants introduced themselves only by roles.
Traffic. Master. Creative. Analytics. Pro. I realized that I had joined a team where everyone was responsible for their own area of work. On April 3, Zero offered me my first task. We need to test a new funnel. Forex broker, premium segment. $500 for registration with a deposit of a thousand. Can you bring 20 leads in a week? $500 per lead - this was astronomical money compared to what I worked with before.
But the requirements for traffic were also different. Not students with pocket money, but people with serious savings. "What are the requirements for the audience?" I asked. Men from 35 to 55 years old. Income from 5,000 bucks a month. Interest in investments. Geography. USA, Germany, Australia. "The landing page is ready, you just need to drive traffic."
He sent a link to the landing page. It looked professional. No flashy headlines about getting rich quick. Solid design, reviews from satisfied customers, regulator certificates. At first glance, an absolutely legal investment project. But something was alarming. Everything was too perfect. And is the broker real, I asked. Of course. There is a license, they withdraw money.
It's just... the trading conditions are not the most favorable for clients. I did not dig deeper. 10 thousand dollars for a week of work outweighed all doubts, I launched the company on April 5. The target was the US audience through Facebook, the creative was about the strategies of millionaires in a crisis. The conversion was excellent. The dear audience willingly clicked on high-quality advertising. In a week, I brought 23 leads. Earned 11 thousand 500 dollars.
"Never in my life have I seen such money." "Impressive," Zero wrote to me. "Ready for permanent cooperation." The following months passed in a blur. Every week, new funnels, new brokers, new schemes. I worked with crypto platforms, binary options, high-risk investment funds. The names of the companies changed, but the scheme was the same - to lure people with bright promises, to force them to make a large deposit.
Zero's coordinator gradually brought me up to speed. It turned out that the team not only works with dubious brokers, but also creates their own projects. See this landing page? He showed it to me in May. We made it in three days. The broker does not exist, but the site looks convincing. In a month, we will close the project and launch a new one. And what about the clients' money? What money? They invested in a high-risk asset. The risks were spelled out in the contract. I began to understand that I was not working with affiliate marketing, but with something darker.
But the money was too good to stop. By the summer of 2021, my monthly income reached $ 25 thousand. I bought my uncle a new car, saying that I won the lottery, rented a separate apartment supposedly for study. But I could not live in peace. The faces of people from advertising companies constantly spun in my head. Pensioners who invested their savings in reliable investments.
Hard workers who dreamed of providing their children with a future. On August 15, 2021, everything changed. Zero wrote an announcement in the channel. “We are moving to a new level. Exclusive offers, access to premium traffic, payments from a thousand dollars per lead. I had already learned to understand the team's euphemisms. The new level meant even more dubious schemes. Premium traffic - people with really large sums.
But there are conditions, he added. Work only through our servers. Complete confidentiality. They sent me instructions on how to set up a VPN and an encrypted connection to their system. The download files were in some cloud storage with a 20-character password. When I logged into their system, I saw a control panel that boggled my mind. Hundreds of companies in dozens of countries. Millions of dollars in turnover. This was not a team of freelancers, this was a real corporation.
But the strangest thing was in the finance section. The amounts of income did not match the partner payments. The money came not only from brokers, but also from some external suppliers. I opened one of the reporting files and saw a line that made my blood run cold. Transaction processing. Crypto exchangers. Payment systems. Bank transfers. Legalization fee. 15%. Legalization.
I looked at this file and gradually realized that I was not on an affiliate team. I had become part of a money laundering machine. I couldn’t sleep for three days after I saw the file labeled “Legalization.” I tossed and turned in my bed, trying to convince myself that this was just tax planning or something. But curiosity was stronger than fear. On August 11, 2021, around midnight, I logged into their system again.
This time I decided to dig deeper. I opened the “Financial Flows” section and started studying the reporting files. What I saw made me move away from the monitor. Incoming payments were not only coming from casinos and forex brokers. The bulk of the money was coming from organizations with names like “Consulting Group,” “Investment Solutions NK,” “Digital Services Pro.” The amounts were astronomical — hundreds of thousands of dollars at a time.
The payment purpose column was the same everywhere. Services. Internet marketing. But the scariest thing was in another file. Traffic.Sources.Excel. It was written in black and white where this money actually came from. Supplier 001. Pharmaceuticals South America. Supplier 015. Specialty goods "Eastern Europe".
Supplier 029 Financial instruments Africa I was not an idiot. Pharmaceuticals from South America are drugs. And our team turned this dirty money into clean money, running it through legal advertising companies and affiliate programs. The scheme was ingeniously simple. Criminal organizations bought advertising services from us for millions of dollars. We showed reports on supposedly conducted companies, and the money came out as legal profit from online marketing.
Some of the funds actually went to real advertising. This created a plausible cover. But the bulk simply flowed through fictitious transactions, changing the origin of the funds. And I was part of this machine. Each of my leads, each company helped launder money from the drug and arms trade. $2.7 million. That’s how much money passed through my accounts in a year and a half.
I thought I was making money advertising casinos, but I was actually servicing an international money-laundering network. I felt sick. I thought of all the people from my advertising campaigns. The retirees investing their last savings. The workers dreaming of a better life. They weren’t just losing money on dubious investments. They were becoming part of a criminal scheme. And me? I was only 17 when it all started. I didn’t know. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. The next day, I made a decision.
No dramatic explanations, no threats or demands. Just stopped responding in chats. Deleted all accounts associated with the team. Cleaned the computer, reinstalled the system. Coordinator Zira wrote to me for another week. “Where are you? Any urgent projects?” “Later.” “Do we have questions for you?” “Then threats.” “Do you know too much to just disappear?” But I didn’t answer.
A month later, the messages stopped. Returned to normal life. Finished school, entered university to become a marketer. My uncle thinks that I simply outgrew my passion for making money on the Internet. Two years have passed. Sometimes, lying in bed at night, I monitor the news about the arrests of cybercriminals, afraid to see familiar Niki. So far, silence. Maybe the team broke up.
Maybe it reformatted. Or maybe it continues to work without me. I often think about those people who lost money because of my companies. About families left without savings. About old people I deceived with beautiful promises, the money I earned, spent on education and helping my uncle. I told myself that at least this way I could partially atone for my guilt. But at night I still dream of those advertising banners, those happy faces from fake reviews, those amounts in Excel files.
Why am I telling this story? Because the Internet is full of guys like me. They are offered easy money or a dream job. Most of these offers are a trap. And when you understand what you got yourself into, it is much more difficult to get out. I was lucky, I was a minor, I did not know the real essence of what was happening, and I was smart enough to get away in time.
But the 2.7 million dirty dollars that passed through my hands did not disappear anywhere. Somewhere now this money continues to work. They buy new batches of drugs, new weapons, finance new crimes. And a piece of this guilt will forever remain with me. If someone reads this and recognizes themselves in my story, stop. Stop before it's too late. Because there is no easy money.
Someone pays a real price for every dollar. Alex-94's story has collected over 300 comments from Dark Corner users in the first days of publication. Some shared similar stories about accidentally getting caught up in gray schemes, others argued about whether a minor is guilty of adult crimes? Alex himself sometimes appears in the comments, giving monosyllabic answers to questions, but he does not reveal any more details.
Perhaps he has already said everything he wanted. This story struck me not with its technical details. Most of the described schemes are known to cybersecurity specialists. What struck me was the transformation of an ordinary teenager who dreamed of a new video card into a link in an international money laundering machine. And the most frightening thing is that he still does not know whether his old partners continue to launder millions or are already behind bars.
When the FBI knocks down your door at 4 a.m., you have exactly 12 seconds before they come up to the second floor. That’s just enough time to press one button. That red button that erases three years of your life in a split second. I was known on the darknet as a conduit. Over the past three years, more than $10 million in dirty money has passed through my Shadow Wash network, but the story began much earlier, with the simple curiosity of a 12-year-old kid who just wanted to understand how computers work.
It was February 2018, I turned 14, and my dad brought home an old Dell Optiplex from work. It was a shame to throw it away, maybe my son will need it for school, he told my mother. He didn’t know that he was signing my death warrant. The first few months, I just played old games and surfed the Internet. But by the summer, I was drawn deeper.
I found programmer forums, downloaded my first Python textbooks, and started to figure out Linux. My peers were playing football, and I was sitting in the basement and learning to hack my neighbors' Wi-Fi. By the fall of 2018, I already knew what Tor was, and accidentally stumbled upon my first darknet market. Not for shopping, just out of curiosity. But what I saw there turned my understanding of the Internet upside down.
It was a whole world hidden from ordinary people, a world where people traded everything imaginable and remained completely anonymous. On the morning of February 22, 2019, I made my first real hack. The target was the database of a local auto repair shop. Nothing serious. I just wanted to see if it would work. It took me 40 minutes. I downloaded all their files, looked through them, and then simply deleted them from mine.
At that time, I still didn't know what to do with the stolen information. But the adrenaline was incredible. The feeling of power, control, the fact that you can get into places where others can’t go – it was more addictive than any drug. By the summer of 2019, I was already earning my first money by hacking accounts on social networks to order. The amounts were ridiculous – from 20 to 50 dollars per account. But for a fifteen-year-old teenager, this was a lot of money.
My parents thought I was earning money by tutoring in computer science. The real turning point happened in the fall of 2020, when I met a man nicknamed Architect on one of the hacker forums. He offered me a job. Not just one-time hacks, but ongoing cooperation. You have talent, kid. He wrote to me in a private chat, but you waste it on trifles.
Architect taught me the main rule of the darknet – never work directly with clients. There should always be intermediaries, several levels of protection between you and those who ultimately get the result. Once you become visible, he said, you are already dead. By the end of 2020, I was no longer a simple lone hacker. I was studying money laundering schemes, understanding cryptocurrencies, building my own secure communication channels.
And that’s when I had an idea that would turn into a masterpiece two years later. But first, I had to understand one simple thing. Honest people don’t survive on the darknet. Honesty on the darknet is a luxury you can’t afford. I realized this on January 12, 2000, at age 21, when I betrayed a man for the first time. His name was Cryptoking, and he was my first real partner after the Architect.
We met on a forum where he was looking for a hacker to hack the payment system of a small online casino. The amount was serious – $15,000 for the job plus 10% of the stolen money. It took me three weeks to hack it. The casino used an outdated version of the payment system with a security hole that I learned about from the Architect. By early February, we had $340,000 in bitcoins in a shared wallet. Everything was going according to plan until Cryptoking suggested a small change in the terms.
“Hey, kid,” he wrote to me in encrypted chat on February 8. “What if we don’t stop? I have contacts at three more casinos. We can create a permanent scheme.” The idea was tempting, but something was bothering me. CryptoKing was too quick to offer to expand the operation, too willing to take risks. The architect always said.
When a partner gets greedy, it’s time to get rid of them. I started digging up information about CryptoKing through contacts on forums. What I learned made my blood turn to ice. It turned out that three months earlier, he had worked with a couple of hackers from Germany on a similar scheme. The operation failed, the Germans were arrested, and CryptoKing disappeared with all the money. On February 17, 2021, I made a decision that would change me forever.
Instead of simply breaking off the partnership, I did what any darknet survivor would do. He struck first. I transferred all the money from our shared wallet to my addresses, while sending the forum administration a dossier on Cryptoking I had compiled with evidence of his previous scams. An hour later, his account was blocked. My share was supposed to be about $50,000.
Instead, I received all 340,000. I justified myself by saying that he was preparing to screw me over, but the truth was simpler. I simply chose money over principles. This money became the starting capital for Shadowash. In the spring of 2021, I began studying the cryptocurrency laundering market. Most services worked on the same principle - technological mixers that mixed bitcoins between thousands of addresses, making transactions untraceable.
But they all had one problem - they left digital traces. Law enforcement agencies were becoming smarter at analyzing the blockchain. Every month, large mixers were closed, administrators were arrested, millions were confiscated. I needed a fundamentally different approach. The idea came to me on June 23, 2021, when I read the news about another closure of Bitcoin FOC, one of the oldest mixers out there on the darknet.
The police tracked the transactions through complex blockchain analysis algorithms. What if we removed technology from the equation altogether? I thought. Instead of automated mixers, real people. Instead of complex algorithms, simple human chains. The client sends bitcoins, the drops cash them out via ATMs and cards, the coordinators collect the cash and hand it over to the client.
No servers to confiscate. No algorithms to analyze. Just people who can be bought. And cash that is untraceable. By August 2021, I had a ready-made Shadow Wash plan and enough money to launch. All that was left was to find people. I found my first coordinator on the LocalBitcoins forum. His name was Phoenix. And he had been cashing out cryptocurrencies in small volumes for two years.
When I offered him a permanent job with a guaranteed income of $ 3,000 a month, he agreed without hesitation. “The main rule,” I told him in our first conversation, “is that you don’t know who I am.” I don't know who you are. On September 3, 2021, we conducted the first test operation. $5,000 in bitcoins turned into cash in 48 hours. The commission was 15%.
This is significantly less than our competitors. Shadow Louse was born, but I didn't yet know that every success on the darknet brings you closer to your own death. Money on the darknet smells of fear. And by the end of 2021, this smell followed me everywhere. In three months of work, Shadow Louse has already processed $200 thousand. Phoenix coped with its territory - the East Coast.
But applications came from all over the country. I needed to scale, which meant looking for new coordinators. I found the second person in my network by chance. On November 15, 2021, an ad appeared on the Black Market forum. Looking for a permanent job cashing out. 3 years of experience. Own team of drops in Texas.
The author signed up as Viper. I studied his history on the forum for 2 days. Clean reputation, positive reviews, no failures. But most importantly, he was already working with a team. This meant a ready-made infrastructure. Our first meeting in an encrypted chat took place on November 18. What do you offer? His first question was business-like. A stable flow of clients, a base salary of 4,000 plus a percentage of turnover. Your territory is all states from Texas to California.
Commission. 15% in total. Of which 8% for you and your drop, 7% for me for clients and coordination. Silence lasted for 5 minutes. Then the answer came. Dill. By Christmas 2021, I had two regional coordinators. And a total turnover of half a million dollars. But the real breakthrough happened in January 2022, when a client contacted me who changed everything.
His nickname was simply "Client 7", but the size of the request spoke for itself. $ 2 million in bitcoin needed to be converted into cash in 2 weeks. The largest operation in the history of Shadow Wash. Where did such money come from? I asked in the chat. It's better not to know. Can you handle it or not. I knew it was either a breakthrough or a trap, but the amount was too tempting.
My share was $ 300 thousand. For such an operation, I needed additional people. Through Phoenix, I found a coordinator in Chicago, a girl named Shade, who specialized in working with shell companies. Through Viper, I found ... an international transfer specialist from Miami. By February 2022, my network looked like a real corporation. Four regional coordinators, each with their own team of drops, a total of about 40 people across the country.
The operation with client seven took 12 days. We split $2 million into hundreds of small transactions, ran it through dozens of ATMs and cards in different states, and collected the cash through a network of shell companies. Everything went smoothly. When the last packet of money was handed over to the client, I knew. Shadow Wash was no longer a startup. It was an industrial-scale money laundering machine.
But success on the dark web is a double-edged sword. The more you make, the more people pay attention to you. And not just clients. On March 5, 2022, Phoenix sent me a message that made my hands shake. Someone was asking questions about Shadow Wash on the forum. The user had a new account, but the questions were too specific. I checked the forum.
The user was asking about our rates, geography, work, volumes, transactions. The questions sounded like they were from a potential client, but something about the wording was alarming. “Too professional for a newbie,” Viper texted me that same day. I made a life-saving decision: a complete overhaul of my operational security. New servers, new communication channels, new aliases for all coordinators.
A week later, New Investor disappeared from the forum without making a single order. By the summer of 2022, Shadow Wash was processing over a million dollars a month. I had two houses in different states, fake IDs in three names, and enough money to disappear at any moment. But I couldn’t stop. The money, the power, the feeling of controlling an entire shadow empire—it was more addictive than any drug.
On August 1, 2022, the largest client in the history of the service contacted me. The request was for $5 million. Little did I know that this was the beginning of the end. $5 million is not just money. It’s the point of no return, after which you either become a legend of the darknet or disappear forever.
The client showed up on August 1, 2022, under the nickname Kingmaker. The account was old, the reputation was impeccable, but the request was insane even by Shadow Wash standards. “I need to clear 5 million in a month. Can you handle it?” His first message was extremely laconic. I stared at the screen for half an hour, rereading the number. My share was $750,000, more than I had earned in the entire previous year.
“Source?” I wrote. “It’s better not to know. But I guarantee it. This is not the FBI or a trap, just a business that needs to be made invisible. For such an operation, I needed to double the network. By the end of August, Shadow Wash already had 60 people working. Six regional coordinators, each with a team of 8 drops.
The geography covered the entire country from New York to Los Angeles. I developed a new scheme specifically for Kingmaker. The money was divided into thousands of microtransactions of 2-5 thousand dollars each. Each transaction went through a chain of three drops in different states. The first one received the bitcoins and cashed them out at ATMs. The second one took the cash and transferred it via money orders. The third one received the transfers and transferred the final amount to the client. The operation started on August 15, 2022. The first week went perfectly.
1.2 million were successfully processed without a single glitch. The coordinators reported stable work, the drops received their percentages, the client was happy with the speed. But in the second week, strange things started happening. On August 22, Phoenix sent an alarming message. “One of my drops in Boston says he’s being followed. He’s seen the same car three days in a row. I ordered this drop to be temporarily excluded from the operation, but two days later, similar messages came from a viper in Texas and our guy in Miami.
Either we have mass paranoia, or someone is actually watching. “Shade texted me from Chicago. On August 25th, I made the decision to pause the operation for 48 hours to analyze the situation. Kingmaker was unhappy. I have tight deadlines. Every day that I delay costs me money. Safety is more important than speed.
I responded. But inside, I was gnawing at doubt. What if this was just paranoia? What if I was losing my biggest client because of fear? The answer came on August 27th at 3:47 am. Phoenix sent an urgent message. “They busted the drops in Philadelphia. Full search. They took computers and phones.” My heart stopped. “If they have phones, then they have correspondence. If they have correspondence, then they can trace the connections.”
I spent the next six hours in a panic, wiping servers, changing all communication channels, warning coordinators. By noon, the entire Shadow Wash infrastructure was destroyed and rebuilt from scratch. But it was too late. On August 28th, Dropp was arrested in Houston, on the 29th, the coordinator in Denver. Then three at once in Los Angeles. I realized that these were not random raids. Someone was methodically dismantling my network piece by piece.
On August 31st, Kingmaker sent his final message. “Operation cancelled. You can keep the money for the portion already processed.” I stared at the message and it hit me. Too convenient, too timely. Kingmaker showed up just when my network was at its maximum size. He offered me exactly the amount of money that would make me expand as much as possible. And he disappeared just when the arrests started.
Kingmaker wasn’t a client. He was bait. Someone had spent months forcing me to grow my network to a size where it could be effectively shut down. He used my greed against me. On September 1st, 2022, I made the hardest decision of my life: shut down Shadow Wash. I sent the same message to every remaining coordinator. Operation terminated forever.
Erase all traces, change your documents, disappear. Then I wiped all servers, destroyed all wallets, deleted all accounts. In two years, Shadow Wash had processed over $12 million. My share was almost $2 million. But the price was too high, half of my people were in prison, and the best analysts in the world were hunting me. On September 3, I left my house for the last time, knowing that Kanduit was dead.
Now I had to learn to live with a new name in a new world. But the hunters were already on my trail. And I had very little time left.
100 billion rubles. That's how much the phone scammers stole during that period. While I was part of it. I was 15. All I did was send SMS from a fake phone. 30 thousand a week. That's several times more than my teachers earned. You would have agreed to that too. I thought I'd found the perfect part-time job. Until I realized what I'd gotten myself into. I live in the regional center.
The population is about 400 thousand. An ordinary family. Dad works in a management company, mom is an accountant in a clinic. Middle class. Nothing special. A three-room apartment in a residential area, an old foreign car, a vacation once a year at the sea. Everything changed on April 14, 2024. That day, I was sitting at home, scrolling through Telegram. Preparing for an algebra test, but mostly glued to my phone.
I saw a post in one of the channels about earnings. An operator is needed to send out SMS. Remotely. Salary. Up to 200 thousand per month. No experience needed. 200 thousand per month. My parents didn’t earn that much together. I wrote to the bot specified in the post. He responded quickly. Started with simple questions. Age, city, willingness to work at night. Then he explained the gist. You send out SMS through a special panel. Banks, delivery, tech support, regular notifications, we pay for the number of successful sends.
It sounded harmless. Like sending out ads or notifications. I had already worked part-time as an operator at Yandex.Food, I knew what remote work and piecework were. “When can you start?” the eldest asked. That’s what I called him in my head. “Even now?” I answered. Half an hour later, a link to the web panel and instructions arrived by email.
Login, password, simple interface. Choose a message template, load the number database, click "Send". Nothing complicated. The first messages really looked like bank notifications. Your card is blocked. Follow the link to unblock. Or the parcel is awaiting receipt. Pay the commission. They paid honestly. 50 rubles for 100 sent SMS. If people clicked on the link - a bonus.
On the first day, I earned 800 rubles for three hours of work. This was crazy money for a schoolboy. My parents thought I was learning English through an app. I sat in the room with headphones, poking at my phone. What's suspicious about that? And I explained the money by saying that I was writing a test and helping high school students with computer science, so as not to be detected. I worked every day after school. The number database was updated automatically.
Thousands of phones all over Russia. I just pressed buttons and watched the numbers in my wallet grow. In the first week I earned 12 thousand, in a month - 47. In May, the senior suggested increasing the workload, gave access to "hotter" databases. The numbers of people who had already responded to similar messages paid more. 80 rubles per hundred, plus a percentage of clicks. I didn't ask questions, I only saw numbers.
Sent, delivered, earned. It was a game. I was good at this game. By the end of May, I was earning about 25 thousand a week. More than my classmates earned during the entire summer of part-time work. I bought myself everything I wanted. New sneakers, AirPods, games on Steam. I told my parents that I had saved up. The senior praised my productivity. He said that I was one of the best on the team. He offered bonuses for overtime, bonuses for the quality of work. I felt like a valuable employee of a successful company.
Everything seemed legal. The gray area of Internet marketing. I sent out SMS, received money. A simple scheme, no catches. Until I got that message from the senior that changed everything. Ready to move on to the next level? Less work, more money. But I would need voicemails. I didn’t understand what voicemails meant. But the number in the next message overrode all doubts. Up to 50 thousand a week.
Interested. 50 thousand a week? In a month. More than both my parents earned combined. Interested. I wrote. But then I didn’t know what else I was signing up for, didn’t understand that voicemails would change everything. And that there would be no turning back. On June 26, 2024, the senior sent new instructions. “Now my task has become more difficult. Instead of sending out mass text messages, I had to call specific people — those who had already bitten the bullet and clicked on the link.
“Introduce yourself as a bank employee,” the senior explained. “You say that their card is at risk. You urgently need to confirm the data for protection. The message included a calling program. The interface is simple. You load a database of numbers. You choose what name to call on - Sberbank, VTB, Tinkov - and press "call".
The program itself substituted the number from which the call was made. The victim's screen displayed the official number of the bank. The first call was made on June 27 at about 7 pm. "My hands were shaking," the man answered in a rough voice. "Good evening. This is Sberbank's security service. Your card has fallen into the risk zone. Go to hell, scammer!" And short beeps. The second call was from a middle-aged woman, but the result was the same.
"I know your schemes. And hang up." And so, on my seventh call, I successfully processed the first victim. A woman answered, about forty years old, judging by her voice. "Good evening, this is Sberbank's security service. Your card has fallen into the risk zone, suspicious transactions have been recorded." "What transactions?" she became alarmed. Then I read from the script given by the senior. I talked about scammers who were trying to gain access to her card.
That she urgently needed to block the old card and get a new one. "Are you sure you're from the bank?" She became wary. "There are a lot of scammers calling right now." "Of course, madam. Look at the phone screen. Do you see the number? You can check it online right now, it's the official Sberbank number." She checked. The number was indeed official, the program did a great job of spoofing it. "For additional verification, tell me the last four digits of your card," I continued.
"I'll check it against our database," she said. I paused, as if checking. Everything was correct. Now I needed the full details for an emergency block. Fifteen minutes of persuasion, and she dictated the card number, expiration date, and CVV code. For this successful call, I received five thousand rubles. For about half an hour of work. "Good job," the senior wrote, "I'll give you the hot database tomorrow.
People there are already scared, they're easier to take." The hot database was the numbers of those who had received text messages about card blocking or problems with accounts in the last few days. They were already in a state of alarm, waiting for a call from the bank. I called every day for the next two weeks. After school, I sat down at the computer, launched the program and started calling the list. On average, 15-20 calls per evening. 4-5 were successful. For each “knocked out” card data, they paid from 3,000 to 5,000 rubles, depending on the amount in the account.
By mid-July, my weekly revenue had grown to 40 thousand. I bought what I wanted, without counting the money. A new iPhone 15. Branded clothes. Top-end headphones. I told my parents that I was very successful in trading in games. I bought skins cheaply. I sold them more expensively. But most importantly, I felt like a professional. The eldest regularly sent updates, new conversation scripts, fresh databases, improved programs for spoofing.
I studied human psychology, learned to evoke the right emotions. Fear, urgency, trust. “The main thing is to create a sense of disaster,” the elder taught. “People in a panic don’t think logically. They just want the problem to go away. And it worked.” Without fail. At the end of July, the elder suggested another improvement. “Now I didn’t just get card details, but immediately helped people, so to speak, protect their money.
Transfer all funds to a safe account,” I told the victims. “This is a temporary measure. As soon as we block the scammers, we will return the money back. The safe account, of course, belonged to our team. August 3, 2024, was my most successful day. In one evening, I processed 18 people. 11 gave card details, 6 agreed to transfer money to a safe account. Mine is 84 thousand.
84 thousand rubles for 4 hours of work. I felt like the king of the world. I bought gifts for friends, took girls to expensive restaurants, rented an apartment for a day for parties. At 15, I had the life of a successful adult. My senior praised my results. Said he was considering me for a promotion. Newbie coordinator. Promised a percentage of their earnings plus bonuses for training.
I went with the flow of success and money, not thinking about what happened to people after our calls. They were just voices on the phone, sources of numbers on the screen. Until September 15, 2024, when I made a call that changed everything. I still dream about that voice at night.
September 15, 2024. Monday. I remember that day down to the smallest detail. By that time, I was already working at a percentage rate, as a valuable employee. Came home from school around 4 p.m., ate, sat down at the computer. Usual routine. My senior sent a new database. Particularly hot, as he put it. People who had already received several SMS messages about card blocking and were on the verge of panic.
The first five calls were standard: three hung up immediately, two listened but refused to give out their details. A woman answered on the sixth number. Her voice was quiet and elderly. “Hello? Good afternoon, this is Sberbank’s security service. Your card has fallen into the risk zone.” “Oh, my God, again?” she was alarmed. “I’ve been receiving messages about my card for three days now. I’m so worried.” The perfect victim.
Already scared, ready for a dialogue. “Don’t worry, we’ll help. We’ll block the scammers’ card now and protect your funds. Tell me, how much is in your account? Oh, I don’t know exactly. Was your pension transferred recently? Plus what you’ve saved up, about a hundred and eighty thousand, I guess. A hundred and eighty thousand rubles. For a pensioner, that’s a fortune. She’s been saving for years. Good. That’s a large sum. We need to protect it urgently. The scammers are already close to your account. Now I’ll help you transfer your money to a safe deposit.”
Then the standard scenario followed. I dictated our “safe account” number to her and explained how to make a transfer via a mobile app. She was not very tech-savvy and asked several times. “Are you sure you’re from the bank?” She suddenly began to doubt it. My granddaughter used to say that there were a lot of scammers. “Grandma, look at your phone screen.
” “What number is displayed?” She slowly dictated the number. That’s right, it’s the official Sberbank hotline number. Scammers can’t call from that number. Now tell me, what’s your last name? Morozova. Elena Vasilievna Morozova? A card ending in 4726? Yes, yes, that’s right. She was surprised. Of course, I had this data from the database, but for her it was final proof. The transfer procedure took half an hour.
She slowly followed my instructions. She made mistakes several times, and I patiently corrected her. Finally, the transfer was completed. “That’s it, your money is safe,” I said. “In a week, when we catch the scammers, we’ll transfer it back. Thank you very much, young man. You saved me. I was so worried, I couldn’t sleep at night. This hundred and eighty thousand is all I have.
Besides my pension.” There was such sincere gratitude in her voice that something inside me skipped a beat. “You’re welcome,” I muttered and quickly hung up. The older one immediately wrote. “Excellent work. One hundred and eighty thousand net. Your share is fifty-four thousand. Fifty-four thousand rubles for a half-hour conversation with a pensioner.”
But instead of joy, I felt something strange. For the first time in a month and at work, I thought about what happens to people after our calls. In the evening, I went online and started reading news about telephone scammers, stories of victims, pensioners who lost their life’s savings, people who took out loans, families that were destroyed by financial losses. One article particularly struck a chord.
A seventy-three-year-old resident of Voronezh lost 185 thousand rubles after a call from a bank employee. She had been saving the money for her disabled husband's treatment. After losing all her savings, she had a heart attack. 185 thousand. Almost like my victim today. I imagined that granny from the call. How she would go to the bank in a week to find out about her money.
How they would explain to her that she had become a victim of fraudsters. That there was no more money. That the so-called safe deposit was a scam, how she would cry. That night I couldn't sleep. For the first time in a month and work, I understood. I am not an IT employee, I am not a security specialist. I am a fraudster, a criminal. I steal money from old people. The next day, the elder one sent a new database.
I looked at the list of numbers and couldn’t bring myself to dial the first one. “What happened?” he wrote in the evening. “Yesterday I worked great, today I haven’t had a single call.” “I don’t feel well,” I lied. “Come to your senses tomorrow. I have some hot clients, I need to work them off.” But I couldn’t. Every time I picked up the phone, I remembered that granny’s voice. Her gratitude. Her naive trust.
A week later, the senior guy started pressuring me. “What’s going on? It’s been a week of downtime. The other guys are showing results, and you’re sitting there. Are you tired? You need a break.” “A break? With that kind of money, you’re crazy. Work. Or I’ll find a replacement.” The threat of replacement didn’t scare me. On the contrary, I began to hope that they would simply kick me off the team and I would be able to forget about this nightmare. But the senior guy didn’t give in. He offered bonuses, promised promotions, pressed on my greed.
And when that didn’t work, he started threatening. We have recordings of all your calls. Your voice, your data. If you want to leave the hard way, there will be problems. On October 2, 2024, I made a decision. I wrote to my senior. I'm leaving. Delete my contacts. Think again, he replied. You won't earn that kind of money anywhere else. I've already decided.
I said it confidently. That same evening, I deleted the phone app, cleared the history, deleted Telegram, took all the money I'd earned from my account card, about 500 thousand rubles, and hid it at home in cash. I told my parents that the project was closed and I wouldn't work part-time anymore. I returned to my normal school life - lessons, homework, meetings with friends. But there was no peace. Every night I dreamed of that pensioner's voice.
Her words. "Thank you very much, young man. You saved me." I tried to forget, but it didn't work. The news constantly flashed stories about telephone scammers. Every time I shuddered, thinking. What if they show one of my victims? The months dragged on slowly. I gradually calmed down, thinking that it was all behind me, that the digital traces were erased, that no one would find me. The elder one no longer wrote, the programs were deleted, the contacts were erased.
I was clean. Or so it seemed to me. I left the scheme and forgot about it. But it did not forget about me. Six months of freedom. That's what I called the period from October 2024 to March 2025. The first weeks after leaving the scheme were hard. I constantly looked back, expecting a catch.
Every call from an unfamiliar number made my heart beat faster. What if it was the elder one? What if the threats were serious. But the weeks went by, and nothing happened. In November, I started spending the money I had saved. Carefully, in small amounts. A new laptop, clothes, gifts for friends' birthdays. I explained to my parents that I had invested well in cryptocurrency, and its growth.
By December, the fears had almost disappeared. I was living the usual life of a 15-year-old schoolboy. School, friends - computer games. Winter holidays passed calmly. New Year, skating rink, parties. I almost forgot about the nightmare that I created in the summer. It seemed like a different life, a different person. In January 2025, ordinary school days began. Preparation for the Unified State Exam, additional classes, plans to enter a technical school.
I even thought about connecting my life with IT, but honestly, working as a programmer or system administrator. On February 14, Valentine's Day, I met a girl from a parallel class - Nastya. We started dating, went to the cinema, walked around the city. Ordinary teenage relationships without a dark past. In March, a new dream appeared - to go to a language camp in Bulgaria in the summer.
It cost 80 thousand rubles, but I had the money. My parents were surprised by my desire to study English abroad, but did not object. I felt like an ordinary schoolboy with a clear conscience. And almost forgot about this granny. On March 25, 2025, while browsing the news on Telegram, I came across a note. The organizer of a large-scale fraudulent scheme was detained in Moscow. The damage amounted to more than 100 million rubles.
My heart skipped a beat. I read on. The detainee coordinated the work of several dozen performers. The scheme operated from February to December 2024. From February to December 2024. Exactly the period when I worked. According to the investigation, the main category of people are citizens under 30 years old, often minors.
My hands began to shake. I reread the news three times, hoping that I was wrong. But no. This was our scheme. Our eldest was caught. The following days I lived in constant fear. Every rustle in the entrance, every unfamiliar number on my parents' phone made me think. That's it. They've come for me. But day after day passed, and nothing happened. March 30th I couldn't take it anymore. I started googling the news.
I found an article. A photo of a detainee. A guy, about 25 years old. In a jacket, looking at the floor. Could this really be the same older guy I'd been corresponding with for six months? The article mentioned that the investigation had seized servers with correspondence databases and call records. Work was underway to identify all the members of the criminal group. I understood. They would find my calls, my messages, my voice in the recordings. It was only a matter of time. But time passed, and nothing happened.
On April 1st I even thought that it was some kind of mystical date, April Fool's Day. And everything would work out. That they had caught the wrong person, or the records were damaged, or the investigation would not get to the minor perpetrators. On April 2nd I went to bed thinking that tomorrow would be a regular school day. I was wrong. April 3rd, 2025, at 6 am. A sharp ring at the door broke the morning silence.
I woke up from voices in the hallway. Unfamiliar male voices, my parents answering something in worried voices. “Is your son home?” I heard. “Yes, he’s sleeping. What happened?” “The Investigative Committee. We have a search warrant.” My heart sank. I knew this moment would come someday, but when it came, I was unprepared. Three men in civilian clothes entered the room.
They politely but insistently asked me to get dressed and come with them. “Mom, what’s going on?” I asked, feigning surprise. “Son, these people are saying that you… that you were involved in some kind of… online fraud.” Mom was crying. Dad stood there pale, not understanding what was happening. “There are reasons to believe that you are involved in an organized crime group,” one of the operatives explained.
I needed to go and give evidence. I didn’t resist. Deep down, I knew that sooner or later this would happen. I was silent in the car, thinking about the situation. They found the records of my calls, restored the correspondence, traced the financial flows. Now I had a choice - to cooperate with the investigation or not. But who to cooperate with? I did not know the real names, addresses, anything except for Nick in the telegram of the work scheme.
At that time, I did not yet know that the case contained details that would change my attitude to everything that was happening. At the Investigative Committee, they showed me a folder, a thick one, with hundreds of sheets. A case of fraud on an especially large scale. The investigator, a man of about 50, spoke calmly. We have recordings of all your calls. Your voice was identified by an expert examination, the correspondence was restored. You can cooperate, you will get a suspended sentence.
If you remain silent, you will get a real one. But it was not the threats that broke me. It was the photographs that broke me. The investigator opened the folder and showed the pictures. Elena Vasilievna Morozova, 73 years old. That same grandmother. In the photo, she was lying in a hospital ward, connected to an IV. “A heart attack,” the investigator said. “After I realized I had no more money, I saved up for my grandson’s operation. Cerebral palsy.
I looked at the photo and understood. I didn’t just steal money, I stole hope. There were other photos in the folder, dozens of people our team had deceived. Pensioners, large families, disabled people. Each with a story, with dreams, with plans for the stolen money. “Do you want to see the statistics?” the investigator asked. 847 victims from your calls. Total damage – 12.3 million rubles.
847 people. 12.3 million. Numbers behind which stood ruined lives. I testified, told everything I knew about the scheme. But the eldest turned out to be smarter, no one knew his real name. His address, too. Only his nickname and burnt-out phone numbers. The parents didn’t turn away, Mom cried, but hugged, Dad was silent, but hired a lawyer.
They loved me, no matter what, and that was the only bright spot in this nightmare. Now I'm on bail, not on leave. The case is in court. The lawyer says it's most likely a suspended sentence, given my age and cooperation with the investigation. But the court's verdict is not the main thing. The main thing is that I realized who I've become. At 15, I ruined the lives of 847 people, according to the investigation.
And no amount of remorse will fix that. That's why I'm writing this confession. Maybe some teenager will read it and think twice before agreeing to a harmless part-time job. Or maybe an investigator or prosecutor will find this text and understand. Before me is not a member of an organized crime group, but a kid who didn't know what he was getting into. I crossed the line between stupidity and crime the moment I dialed the pensioner's number for the first time. And I realized it only when it was too late.
I'm 16. "I'm a fraud, and I'll have to live with it all my life." This story has collected over 1,200 comments on the forum where it was first published. Several users wrote that they recognized their relatives in the description who became victims of similar calls. One commenter said that his grandmother also saved money for her grandson's treatment and lost everything after a similar conversation. The Internet is full of offers of "easy money" for minors.
And you can check the real price of this money only when it is too late. According to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the average age of the perpetrators in telephone schemes is from 16 to 20 years old. They do not understand that they are becoming part of a crime that ruins the lives of hundreds of people.
Confessions of the digital underground. We started with the story of GOST-Protocol, a team hunting for forgotten bitcoins. Then we delved into the dark world of telephone fraud with the confession of an operator named Sipher. And today I will tell you the story of the one known on the darknet as Shadow Tech. This is not just a story about a hacker. This is a story about how an ordinary guy, a talented IT freelancer from Zosten, turned into a master of social engineering, a man who can make you give away your most valuable thing with one phone call.
What makes a person cross this line? What does it feel like when your voice becomes a weapon? And most importantly, what price do you have to pay when this game ends? You will learn about the most daring operation of the Phantom Zone team - an attack on Dallas businesses that brought in almost 300 thousand dollars, about betrayal, imprisonment and an attempt to start life anew.
But this story is more than just a crime chronicle. This is an inside look at the methods that scammers use every day against ordinary people and companies. Knowledge that can protect you and your loved ones. And perhaps this is the paradox.
The Man Who Once Used People’s Trust Against Them Is Now Helping Protect Them From Them Get comfortable, check your door, and don’t answer any unknown calls for the next hour. We’re taking a journey into the dark side of human psychology. Where your greatest enemy is. Not a hacker program, but a human voice on the other end of the line. Because the most dangerous hacker attack doesn’t start with your computer, it starts with your trust.
I was a freelancer in Austin until July 10, 2015, when I took a job that changed my life. Austin, Texas. A city of startups, music, and endless opportunities for people like me. 27-year-old techies with ambitions but no strings attached. I lived in a small studio apartment in East Riversite. Nothing fancy. A desk, a bed, a powerful computer, and a view of the city that never sleeps.
The perfect place for someone who made a living from home. My real name doesn’t matter. I was known online as ShadowTech. In real life, I was just another IT freelancer, taking jobs on Upwork, Freelancer, and a few niche forums. Web development, server setup, and sometimes a little white hat hacking if a client wanted to test the security of their site.
Nothing criminal. Regular work for regular money. By July 2015, my bills were being paid, but barely. The freelance market was becoming increasingly crowded, clients were paying less, and competitors from lower-priced countries were taking over easy projects. I started looking for something more lucrative, where I could apply my skills in an unconventional way.
July 10, 2015. Friday. The Austin heat was unbearable. My air conditioner was running at full blast, and I was sitting at my computer, reviewing new jobs. I didn’t usually go to darknet forums to look for work, but that day something pushed me to check a few specialized job boards. And there I saw a message.
Needed to test the effectiveness of a phishing campaign. Payment in bitcoin, $500 per test. Experienced only. I froze. It was a turning point. Part of me knew this wasn’t the gray area I sometimes worked in anymore. This was downright black territory. But another part, louder, whispered, “Just this once, $500 for a simple job.
No one will get hurt.” I responded to the message, and a few hours later we were chatting in an encrypted chat. The person on the other end introduced himself as Nexus. He was brief and businesslike. We need to check how many people will fall for a phishing email that supposedly comes from their bank. We have a list and an email. The email is ready. Your job is to launch the campaign and collect statistics.
No withdrawals, just data collection. It sounded almost legit. Almost like a real security test. I agreed, took the instructions, and spent the weekend setting up the servers. On July 17, the emails went out to 500 recipients. The emails looked perfect, with the bank’s logo, the right fonts, and convincing text about “suspicious activity” and the need to verify the information.
Inside was a link to a fake login page that was indistinguishable from the real thing. By the end of the day, 137 people had clicked the link. 98 entered their usernames and passwords. When I sent the report to Nexus, it responded almost instantly. Impressive. 90% conversion. Here’s your $500. There’s more work to do if you’re interested. The $500 showed up in my Bitcoin wallet an hour later.
Easy money. Too easy. I told myself it was an experiment, that I was just testing people’s security awareness, but deep down I knew I’d crossed a line. Two weeks later, on August 25, I took another job from Nexus. This time, I had to call several people, posing as their ISP’s tech support, and coax their login credentials.
I had to record the calls to analyze the success of the approach. The first call I made was to a middle-aged woman from Houston. I was sure she would see through it in the first seconds. But she didn’t. My voice sounded calm and professional. I talked about a “routine security update,” that “we need to verify your details so there are no service interruptions.”
And she gave me everything – login, password, even the last four digits of her credit card, to verify my identity. When I finished the call and hung up, I was shaking. Not from fear or shame, but from adrenaline. From the realization of the power I had just felt. She believed my every word. I could make her do anything. By the end of the day, I had successfully processed eight out of ten intended targets.
Nexus was more than pleased and transferred me $800 instead of the promised $500 – my first bonus in this new world. “You have talent, Shadow Tech,” he wrote. “People trust you. It’s a rare gift.” In September and October, I took on a few more similar jobs. The pattern was always the same – calls or letters on behalf of banks, providers, technical services. And each time, everything became easier.
I learned to adapt to the interlocutor, change my tone, find an approach. With businessmen, I was brief and businesslike, with the elderly, patient and attentive. With techies, I used professional jargon, creating the illusion of a brother-in-law. By December 2015, I was making more money than ever before. My apartment was transformed. New equipment, designer furniture. I could afford to dine at the best restaurants in Austin.
But the main thing was that I was getting sucked in deeper. I remember the exact moment I realized I couldn’t go back to my day job. On December 15th, I was sitting at La Condesa in downtown Austin, sipping on an expensive Misqal and scrolling through reviews of my real jobs on freelancing platforms. The projects that had once seemed interesting now looked boring and pointless. $20 an hour to code websites? After $800 for a few hours of social engineering?
That night, Nexus sent me another message. “Time to level up. Go to this address tomorrow at 8 p.m. Password: amber sunset.” The link led to a secure vault on the dark web. Little did I know that behind that door, there was a whole team of people just like me waiting for me. I didn’t know I’d soon be involved in operations that would bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars, and I certainly had no idea what awaited me five years later.
I was sitting in my stylish apartment, looking at the lights of Austin at night, and feeling like the world was at my feet. I’d earned my first dirty money, but that was just the first step. I realized I could do more, and someone was already waiting for me on the darknet. March 12, 2016, I opened a chat that would become my new home. I remember that evening down to the smallest detail. It was raining outside my renovated Austin apartment.
A rarity for March. I was sitting at a new computer with two monitors. One of my first purchases with dirty money. It was exactly 8 p.m. when I clicked on the Nexus link and entered the password. Amber sunset. The chat window opened, and I saw a list of nicknames. About 20 people. Wiregost, Blackmamba, Nexus and others. Some were clearly online, others were offline.
Little did I know, I was looking at the people who would change my life. “Welcome to Shadow Tech,” Nexus wrote. “This is Phantom Zone. This is where we plan and coordinate.” That night, I learned that Phantom Zone wasn’t just a chat room. It was an organization of 23 people who specialized in social engineering and phishing. They had been working together for more than two years, targeting small and medium-sized businesses across America.
Everyone had a role. Techies, call voices, analysts, coordinators. And now they wanted me to join. “You’re a natural voice,” Nexus told me. “People trust you. And with your technical skills, you can be both a developer and an implementer. The proposition was simple. Work with us, get a percentage of every successful transaction.
No obligations, no contracts, just mutual benefit. I agreed, of course, and within a week I was participating in our first joint operation – an attack on a small coffee shop chain in Seattle. The scheme was elegant. WireGhost created phishing pages that imitated their processing company’s page, and I called managers on behalf of the security service and directed them there to update the data.
In three days, we gained access to their payment system and withdrew a little over $18,000. My share was $3,000. By the summer of 2016, I had fully integrated into the team. Every day began with checking encrypted messages, discussing new goals, analyzing successes and failures. I improved my skills by studying psychology, linguistics, and manipulation techniques.
I learned to change accents, imitate different dialects, and adapt to the victim’s psychotype. By 2018, I could make anyone reveal their secrets to me. One of my favorite techniques was simple. I would call a company employee, introduce myself as an IT specialist, and say that suspicious activity had been detected in their system. Then came the key phrase. “I can solve the problem, but I need your help.
You don’t want to be accused of leaking data, do you?” Fear worked flawlessly. “I remember exactly. May 17, 2018, we carried out an operation against a marketing agency in Chicago. I called their CFO, posing as a bank employee. In 12 minutes of conversation, I convinced him to transfer 61 thousand to a reserve account due to suspicious activity. When a person transfers money themselves, this is a perfect scheme.
No signs of hacking. By the end of 2019, our team was at its peak. 27 people, streamlined processes, stable income. We were like a corporation, only in the shadows. I moved to a penthouse in downtown Austin, bought an Audi RS7, traveled the world. But I always wanted more. Small operations no longer brought the same adrenaline. I craved something large-scale, daring, that could test the limits of my capabilities.
This is how the idea for Dallas was born. The largest operation in the history of our team. A series of coordinated attacks on dozens of businesses in one region. We were on top, but I wanted more. It's a shame that I didn't understand then where all this would lead me. September 1, 2020, we chose Dallas and it was our biggest game.
Dallas was not a random choice. We spent months studying different regions, analyzing local businesses, their connections, and their level of protection. Dallas was a perfect fit. A growing market, many new companies, not very strict security protocols, but most importantly, interconnectedness. Many large enterprises worked with the same banks, used the same accounting systems, and had common suppliers.
The plan was ambitious. 14 companies in 21 days, restaurants, clothing stores, two startups, and a small investment firm. We were counting on a total of about $250,000. The largest operation in the history of our team. Preparations took all of August. WireGhost created phishing pages and set up servers, BlackMamba studied the financial flows of companies, Voxtric prepared fake documents.
I worked on voice scripts, refining every intonation, every phrase. Each target had its own approach. The operation began on September 7. The first targets were two restaurants in downtown Dallas. I called on behalf of their processing company, reported an attempt at mass fraud and directed them to a phishing page to change their credentials.
By the evening, we had gained access to their payment systems and withdrew $17,000. On September 12, we took on clothing stores. Another legend - representatives of the updated supplier platform. I called managers, told them about the new portal where they could get discounts and asked them to register. Of course, to confirm their identity, all the same data was required - another $23,000.
By September 15, we had hacked the systems of half of the intended targets. The money was flowing like a river - $17, 23, 39, 52 thousand. We were on our way to the goal of $250 thousand. The toughest target was an investment firm on the 20th floor of a tower in downtown Dallas, they had good security, experienced IT staff.
But we had a secret weapon - knowledge of the corporate hierarchy. I called not the CIO, but his deputy, introducing myself as a consultant hired by the director to conduct a secret security audit. It worked flawlessly. He gave me everything I asked for, afraid to let the boss down. On September 18, we crossed the $ 200,000 mark.
Nexus offered to end the operation, but I insisted on continuing. We were so close. It was my mistake. By September 22, the total amount reached $ 286,000. We celebrated, sending each other congratulatory messages, planning how to spend the money. I transferred my share - 58 thousand - through several dummy wallets, bought more cryptocurrency, then transferred some to an offshore account.
Standard procedure. But something changed. I noticed it about a week later. WireGhost, usually the most active in our chats, became silent. He responded briefly, delayed reports, missed daily checks. On November 15, 2020, I noticed that WireGhost was too quiet. I shared my concerns with Nexus.
He agreed. Something was wrong? We launched an investigation, changed communication channels, tested new security protocols, looked for traces of leaks. Nothing. But my intuition was screaming danger. Dallas was too loud, too successful. We attracted attention. On November 27, I received an encrypted message from BlackMamba. VG was talking to the feds. Confirmed. Go offline.
I immediately disconnected, deleted all apps, transferred crypto to new wallets. But it was too late. At 6:12 am on December 3, 2020, my door shook from the impact. A team of FBI in full gear burst into my penthouse. I didn't even resist. As I was being led out in handcuffs, I saw him in the hallway - Wire Ghost. Real name - James Larson, 34, a tech specialist from Portland.
He stood next to the suited agent, not looking at me. “You could have just disappeared,” I told him. “Why turn everyone in?” He finally looked up, an odd mix of guilt and relief in his eyes. “I had a baby, Shadow Tag. I wanted a fresh start.” The arrest was just the beginning. Over the next few months, the FBI uncovered virtually the entire Phantom Zone structure.
Nineteen of the twenty-seven members were arrested. We were charged with computer fraud, identity theft, money laundering, organized crime. The list was long. My preliminary hearing was on February 17, 2021. The evidence was overwhelming – call records, chat screenshots, financial transactions.
WireGhost had handed it all over. The court offered a deal. Plead guilty? Testify against the others in exchange for a lighter sentence. I refused. It may have been my last moment of pride. March 17, 2021, the judge handed down the sentence. Two years in federal prison. A $150,000 VAZ fine, five years of supervised release.
As I was led out of the courtroom, I looked at the warden who had testified against us all. He only got six months of house arrest and probation. I didn’t feel hatred, only emptiness. The prison door slammed shut, but my story was just beginning. Prison started on March 17, 2021, but I didn’t break. FCI Bastrop is an hour outside of Austin.
Low-rise concrete buildings, barbed wire, watchtowers – this is where I would spend two years of my life, from March 2021 to April 2023. I will remember the first day forever. Standard intake procedure, uniform, familiarization with the rules, medical examination, placement in a cell. My neighbor was Eric, a former bank employee who had gotten three years for embezzlement.
He recognized me from the news. “So you’re the hacker from Dallas?” I didn’t correct him about the hacker part. Technically. We never hacked systems in the literal sense. We just convinced people to voluntarily give us access. But who cares? The result was the same. The first weeks were the hardest. The loss of freedom, the lack of privacy, the strict schedule.
I, who was used to controlling every aspect of my life, suddenly found myself in a place where I couldn’t even decide when to shower. On April 12, 2021, I received the first letter from my lawyer. The property that could be proven to be acquired with legal income was kept in my name. Everything else was confiscated. My penthouse, my Audi, my watch collection, most of my investments, all went to pay the fine and compensate the victims.
The weird thing is, I didn't feel much regret. Money and stuff had always been a byproduct. The main thing was control, power, a sense of superiority. And now it was all gone. I decided to use the time wisely. I enrolled in an educational program, started studying legal cybersecurity. Ethical hacking. Maybe after my release I could find a job as a consultant, helping companies protect themselves from people like me.
On September 2, 2021, I got access to a computer for the first time in the prison's educational center. Of course, there was no internet access, and a limited set of programs, but even that felt like a breath of fresh air. I could program, create simple systems, solve problems.
It reminded me of the times when I was just a freelancer before I crossed the line. The winter of 2021, 2022 was a period of reflection. I thought a lot about what brought me here. It wasn't a lack of money, I made enough freelancing, it wasn't a lack of opportunity, and with my skills I could find a job at any tech company. It was a thirst for power, control, thrills, and most importantly, a lack of moral restraint.
By the spring of 2022, I was already teaching the basics of programming to other inmates. The administration approved of my initiative. It helped to occupy my time, gave me useful skills. In prison, I found what was missing in my previous life - the opportunity to really help people. March 17, 2022, marked exactly one year of my imprisonment. I marked this date by writing a long reflection in my diary about who I was and who I was going to become.
One thing I knew for sure: There was no way back to my old life. In the fall of 2022, I received notice of the possibility of parole. My behavior, participation in educational programs, work with other inmates - all this was taken into account. The opportunity to get out a month early seemed like a gift.
On February 14, 2023, I had my parole hearing. The board asked a lot of questions. About remorse, about my plans for the future, about understanding the harm I had caused. I was as honest as I could be. Yes, I understood the harm. Yes, I understand that I defrauded real people, hurt them financially and emotionally. No, I can’t promise I’ll never cross the line again.
But I will do my best to follow the legal path. On April 3, 2023, I walked out of the gates of FCI Bastrop. I was wearing the same clothes I was wearing when I was arrested. Jeans, a T-shirt, sneakers. Everything else was in the past. Those first weeks of freedom were strange. The world had changed in two years, and I had changed even more. I rented a cheap apartment on the outskirts of Austin, found a temporary job as a consultant at a small IT company.
No penthouses, no sports cars. Just normal life. On parole, I couldn’t leave Texas, had to check in with my probation officer regularly, couldn’t interact with my former accomplices, and certainly no breaking the law. I was tempted sometimes, especially when I saw obvious vulnerabilities in the systems I was working on. I could have, but I stopped myself every time.
By early 2024, I was on my feet, working remotely for two cybersecurity companies. They knew about my past, and I was honest with them. Some companies value experience on the other side. On March 15, 2024, I did what I’d been thinking about for months. I logged into the dark web through a series of proxies and anonymizers and posted my story on a forum.
No names, no specific campaigns, no technical details that could hurt anyone. Just the story of the path that led me from freelancing to crime and prison. I didn’t expect much of a reaction. Maybe a few comments, a few jibes. But the post suddenly became popular. Dozens, then hundreds of replies. Questions, discussions, even thanks for my frankness.
Some called me a traitor for publishing the methods. Others admired the audacity of the operations. Still others thanked me for warning about the risks. I didn’t respond, it was my only post. I said everything I wanted. Today, as I write these lines, almost a year has passed since the publication. I still work in cybersecurity, helping companies protect themselves from social engineering attacks.
I continue to check in with my supervisor, although I still have three years left on probation. I can’t say that I fully repent, that would be hypocritical. In those years, I enjoyed what I did. I liked the power, the control, the thrill. But the price was too high. If you are reading this, I hope my story will teach you something. Maybe you, too, have this thirst for power, for control over others.
Maybe you also sometimes dream of crossing the line. I will not lecture you, everyone makes their own choice, just remember - every action has consequences, and one day you will have to answer for them - I am free, but the shadows of the past are still nearby.
A collection of five documentary stories over two hours long, based on real events. We will tell you:
- How a teenager created a shadow empire to launder millions of dollars in cryptocurrency.
- How Affiliate Mafia Makes Tens of Thousands a Month by Scamming Thousands of Users.
- How a schoolboy with microloans became part of a criminal network spanning the entire country.
- How an ordinary guy made millions by sending SMS and making calls on behalf of banks.
- And why even those who left the game in time will never be able to forget what they did.
All the stories have one thing in common — human choice, the temptation of easy money and the line beyond which there is no stopping. This is not fiction — this is the reality of the digital underground, told in the first person.
Secrets of the darknet, money laundering schemes, phishing, crypto, affiliate, traffic, microloans, drops — without gloss and romanticization.
For those who want to understand how the criminal Internet works from the inside — with psychology, emotions and without embellishment.
Important: All information is for educational purposes only.
3 million rubles. That's how much passed through my hands in 8 months. I thought I had found an easy way to make money, but in fact it was not my money. And when I realized what was behind it, I wanted to turn back time, but it was too late. Now I will tell you how a teenager can become part of a criminal scheme. In 2018, I was 16. I lived in an ordinary regional city. I was an average student, I didn't have many friends.
But since I was 12, I spent all my time at the computer. I studied the darknet, anonymous forums, hacker groups. I had a talent for data analysis, I could spend hours studying leaks, finding patterns, connections between people. On September 15, 2018, I came across a strange topic on one forum. A new way to monetize databases. The author with the nickname Datamaster wrote vaguely about risk-free transactions and a stable income.
In the comments, a bunch of teenagers bragged about new iPhones and laptops bought in a month or two of work. Curiosity got the better of me, the datamaster wrote in a private message. He gave me a simple data analysis test. I did it in half an hour. On September 17 at 8 p.m. I went to his private Telegram channel. About 20 people, mostly teenagers. And then the datamaster explained the scheme.
Using personal data from leaked databases, issue microloans on other people's passports. You take the data of a person with a good credit history. You go to the info site, fill out a form, get money on your card. He explained calmly. "What about those people?" someone asked. "We didn't steal their data. Most of them won't even notice the loan for months. And when they do, they'll write off the money to the scammers and return it through insurance."
It sounded logical. One transaction - 10-15 thousand in profit. Experienced people did 3-4 a week. "We give beginners a free starter data package," the data master said. "The first three transactions under our control - split the profit in half. Tuition. I'm ready to try," I wrote. "Tomorrow I'll send you the instructions and test data, we'll start with a 30 thousand loan." I couldn't sleep that night. For the first time, I had the opportunity to earn serious money with my skills.
I felt special. But that wasn't the strangest thing. The strangest thing was how I even found out about it. That forum, that post, everything appeared in my life as if by order. As if someone knew that a teenager like me would definitely bite. In the morning, a message came from the datamaster with data and step-by-step instructions.
Sergey Vladimirovich Istambovo, a full package of documents from some bank leak. Full name, passport, phone number, address, place of work, even photos of documents. The instructions turned out to be simpler than I expected. You choose an MFI with minimal verification, log in via VPN, register using someone else's data, and enter your card number to receive money. The main thing is to answer the questions on the form correctly so as not to arouse suspicion from the security service.
At 14.30, I went to the site and got money right away. One of the most loyal MFIs, according to the data master. My hands were shaking when I entered someone else's passport data, and I was expecting an error or additional checks every second. Sergey. A mechanic at a factory. Salary 35 thousand. The purpose of the loan is to buy household appliances. Amount 30 thousand for 30 days.
The most difficult part was with the phone. I needed to enter Sergey's number, but receive SMS on my own. The data master said that he would handle the redirection himself, but did not disclose the details. I submitted an application. I spent the next 4 hours nervously waiting, checking my email every 10 minutes. My head was spinning with thoughts – what if they catch me? What if it’s a scam? What if Sergey suddenly decides to check my credit history? A couple of days later I received an SMS saying something like: “
Unfortunately, we cannot approve a loan of 30 thousand rubles at the moment.” But there is good news for you – a loan of 15 thousand rubles has been approved. The funds will arrive within an hour. This was a standard procedure, since the first clients can only be approved for a loan of up to 20 thousand in this office. About half an hour later, there were 15 thousand rubles on the card. I stared at the phone screen, rereading the SMS from the bank.
15 thousand for 5 hours of work. “Congratulations on your first transaction. Your share is 8 thousand,” the data master wrote. 8 thousand – net profit for one day. I was already imagining the purchases – a new video card, SSD, maybe an iPhone. But the data master warned me. The main rule is not to squander everything at once. Parents should not suspect anything amiss. Spend gradually, explain to earnings from freelancing.
I withdrew the money, hid it at home in an old book. I told my parents that I was working part-time. I check questionnaires for social surveys. The next day - the second operation. A woman from Voronezh, an accountant, a loan of 50 thousand. A large amount means a thorough check, but your share will be 22 thousand, ”the data master warned. This woman had already taken out loans and returned them, so 50 thousand was approved for her without any problems.
By the end of the week, I had 45 thousand rubles - more than I had seen in my entire life. At the same time, the data master taught me how to work with databases, showed how to look for fresh leaks on the darknet, check for authenticity, choose suitable targets. The main thing is analysis. Choose people who rarely check their credit history. Ideal targets are public sector employees, pensioners with low incomes, residents of small towns.
They may not know about the loan for months, he explained. Data analysis has always been my strong point. By the end of September, I could independently find the database, select a dozen targets, check their credit history through special services. “Are you a capable student. Ready to work independently?” the data master asked. “Of course, I was ready.” Splitting the profits in half was starting to irritate.
He added me to the closed channel of the data master team. Fifteen people from different cities. Only Nikki, Sifer, Bythanter, DataGost, Shedakodr. The atmosphere was friendly, they shared successes, advised, warned about dangerous and MFIs. At the end of October, the data master revealed the main secret. Our team is only a part of a huge network. We cover the Central Federal District, but there are teams in Siberia, the Urals, the Volga region. In total, there are more than a thousand people in the network. A thousand people.
If each one makes an operation a week - more than a hundred million a month. The scale was amazing. “Who is in charge?” I asked. “Only the regional coordinators know. We work on the principle of cells, it is safer for everyone. By the end of October, I was earning a stable 80 to 100 thousand a month. I bought a new computer, expensive sneakers, an iPhone 13.
My parents noticed the money, but I explained it by my success in freelancing. I felt like the king of the world, but on November 3, everything changed. I was doing a routine operation on a woman from Ryazan, an accountant, 34 years old, a loan of 40 thousand. Everything went as usual, but in the evening the data master sent an emergency message. Everyone must immediately stop operations. Targets receive calls from bank security services. It got cold. The leak meant a failure in the chain.
Perhaps someone was caught or the Curator gave the command. "What to do?" asked Bythunter. - We are waiting. In a week, it will become clear how serious it is. The main thing is not to rat anyone out. The week of waiting was hell. Every day I waited for the police to call. I slept poorly, I could not concentrate at school. Several times I wanted to quit. November 10 - lights out. False alarm, problem in another region didn’t reach us.
I breathed a sigh of relief. But that scare taught me the main rule – always be prepared for a collapse. By December 2019, I thought I knew all the rules of the game. I knew how to find bases, conduct operations, and earned more than many adults. I felt like a real professional. Until I was offered something I couldn’t refuse. On December 12, 2019, the datamaster wrote, “Seeker is ready to move to the next level.
Do you want to become a curator of your own team?” Being a curator meant managing people, getting a percentage of their operation, access to exclusive bases, and a lot more money. “You’ll find 5-7 guys in your region. You’ll coordinate the work, distribute bases. You’ll get a 30% commission from each operation. Plus VIP bases, targets with limits of up to 200 thousand,” he explained, doing a quick calculation.
"Seven people, two transactions a week for 50 thousand. My share is about 400 thousand a month. "Ready," I answered without thinking. Finding a team was easy. The same darknet forums, Telegram channels, plus guys from school who needed money. The first one I found was a teenager, I'll call him Filin, from a single-parent family. He came up to me after school. "Want to earn some extra money?"
"Data analysis." - "They pay well." He wasn't lying, we really did analyze data. I just didn't specify why. In three days, Filin mastered what took me a week. The second was a guy from a neighboring school. I found him through a channel about cryptocurrencies. I nicknamed him Fast and Furious for his energy. Technician, 18 years old, college student. Cyborg. I gave such an ironic nickname to the only female programmer on our team.
And there was another guy, I simply called him Fifth. Because he was the last to join us. By the end of December, a team of five people was working. Everyone had completed training and performed their first operations. Forsage turned out to be the most active, three operations a week, 150 thousand a month, for which he received his nickname. Filin is more cautious, but more stable. In January 2020, Datemaster gave access to VP databases.
A completely different level, targets with incomes of 100-200 thousand, limits up to half a million. But the rule is no more than one operation per month per person. The first VIPIP operation. Andrey Sergeevich, director of an IT company from Lipetsk. Income - 300 thousand. I took out a loan for 400 thousand for "business development". Two days of checks, but the money arrived. My share is 120 thousand for one operation.
By February, the team worked like clockwork. Five people, eight to ten operations a week, turnover of two million a month. My share is 250-300 thousand. Felt like a businessman. Had to lie to my parents about cryptocurrency trading. Bought a phone for my mom, tools for my dad. They were happy about my success. We met with the team once a week in an abandoned building, discussed plans, celebrated operations. Forsage bought the car of his dreams.
Filin helped his mother with her debts. Cyborg saved up to study in Moscow. For the first time, I was not a lonely teenager. I was the leader of the team. But on March 15, an incident occurred. Forsage issued a loan to a woman from Kursk. Tatyana Aleksandrovna. 39 years old. Administration. 80 thousand went smoothly. But 3 days later, he dropped the news from the Kursk VK group. Fundraising for the treatment of employee Tatyana A, who was diagnosed with cancer.
The family is in a difficult financial situation. It became uncomfortable. We issued a loan to a woman with cancer who needs money for treatment. And now she has a debt of 80 thousand with interest. Coincidence? We did not know. I wrote in the chat. But the aftertaste remained. For the first time in six months, I saw the face of a real victim. Before that, the targets were just data. And then... A living woman with problems.
On March 25, the datamaster wrote. I have a serious offer, I'm waiting in Discord at 6. We We called each other via voice channel, his voice was emotionless. "Your team is showing excellent results, it's time to move on to the next level," he said. "Corporate loans. The amount is from a million to ten, your share is ten percent of the transaction. But there are other risks. We need fake certificates, fictitious documents, bribery of MFI employees."
he warned. "This is already a direct criminal offense." I answered. "The same, only the amounts are larger, plus access to the upper echelon. He sent a photo. A young man in an expensive suit with a white Bentley. The creator of the system. At 28, he owns a network for half of Russia and brings in more than a billion a year. Think about it until the end of the week. Not everyone gets such offers.
He said it and hung up. Corporate loans are a qualitatively new level of crime. But also real money. On April 2, I made a decision. And then I got a message that made me delete all contacts and burn the SIM card. On April 2, 2020, I made a decision that could change my life forever. I wrote to the data master. I agree to the corporate level.
The answer came in an hour. Great. Tomorrow you will get access to the new system. Welcome to the big league. On April 3, they sent me a login and password for the closed platform. The interface was professional, not a homemade site, but a real CRM system with databases, statistics, a task system. Teenagers from forums no longer worked here, but adults with experience. The first corporate operation was scheduled for April 10.
The target was Stroyinvest LLC from Voronezh. A construction company with a turnover of 50 million per year. It was necessary to issue a loan for 3 million to expand the business. Senior curators will take care of the documents, the data master explained. Your task is to analyze the company and prepare a dossier for the MFI security service. I studied Stroyinvest for a week. Founders, financial statements, current contracts, reputation in the market.
The company was real, successful, with a clean history. The perfect target. On April 8, the documents were submitted to corporate solutions. A large MFI specializing in business lending. Fake income certificates, fictitious contracts. A bank statement on the movement of funds. Everything was done professionally. On April 12, the application was approved. 3 million rubles. My share is 300 thousand for 2 weeks of work.
But it was on that day that everything went wrong. On the evening of April 12, when I was celebrating the success of the first corporate operation, I received a private message from an unfamiliar account. "Hi, Sicker. They know who you are. My blood ran cold." The account had been created an hour ago. No history or messages. I immediately wrote to the team chat. "Guys, has anyone received strange messages?" "I got one too," Filin replied. "Some kind of left-wing account."
And Forsage wrote to me. It turns out that the stranger contacted each of us personally. But how did he get our contacts? The stranger sent another message. "I'll be waiting for you in Discord tomorrow at eight. Come if you want to stay free." I immediately wrote to the datamaster, but he didn't answer. Then I tried to contact other curators from the system. Silence. On April 13 at 8 pm, we entered the specified channel. A man with the nickname Archivist was waiting for us there.
"Guys, I have bad news for you," he said in a calm voice. "Your network has been leaked." "Stop," I interrupted. "Who are you anyway? How do you know our contacts? Why should we trust you?" Forsage added. "Maybe you work for the police yourself? Or are you trying to scam us?" Cyborg supported. Archivist was silent for a few seconds.
"I understand the mistrust. But I have information that will prove the seriousness of the situation." He sent a screenshot to the chat, correspondence, a data master with some curator, where the details of our latest operations were discussed. "Information that only we knew." "Where is this from?" Filen asked. "From the FSB archive. "They have been intercepting correspondence for several months. What does this mean?" Forsage asked. "It means that law enforcement agencies have a complete database of all participants.
All correspondence, call records, transaction details, including your real names and addresses." The world around me collapsed. The complete database meant that we were all identified. And soon they would come with searches. "But who leaked it? One of ours?" I asked. Worse. The very creator of the system, who was shown to you as an example of success. It turns out that he has been working with the FSB for the past six months.
"No way," the technician wrote. "He is the head of the entire system." That is exactly why he was recruited. Caught on something big, agreed to cooperate in exchange for freedom. The guy in the expensive suit I wanted to know more about. It turns out that he not only created the system, but also turned in everyone who worked in it. “You have a maximum of forty-eight hours,” the Archivist continued.
“Then mass arrests will begin. There’s only one piece of advice: disappear. Delete all accounts, change your numbers, get rid of the evidence.” “And who are you?” the Technician asked. “And why are you warning us?” “The former curator of the northwestern region. I was lucky.” “Did you find out about the leak before anyone else?” “I have a friend in the FSB who took the risk of warning us.”
“I’m passing the information on because of old friendship.” “And how do we know this isn’t a trap?” Cyborg asked. “You don’t know. But turn on the news tomorrow morning. The first arrests will begin in Moscow and St. Petersburg. The central curators have not yet reached the regional teams as a priority. But it’s a matter of time. A week at most.” “So they’re not looking for us yet?” Filin asked. "Not yet. But as soon as they deal with the main figures, they will take on the performers.
So you have time to clean everything up and disappear. The main thing is that there is no direct evidence. Without computers, correspondence and witnesses, it is difficult to prove anything. And what if it is too late to remove traces? Forsage asked? Then prepare to land. For such amounts they give from three to ten years. The connection was lost. That night I did not sleep. I sat at the computer and methodically destroyed all traces of my activities.
I deleted accounts, emails, Telegram, formatted hard drives, burned SIM cards. By morning, nothing remained of my digital life. On April 14, I called the team. Everyone was in a panic. "What are we going to do?" Cyborg asked. "We'll scatter," I said. "We'll delete all contacts, forget about each other. If someone is taken, we won't turn anyone in.
" "And the money?" Forsage asked. What money? We've never worked together. We don't even know each other. I sat at home and waited. Every knock on the door, every ring of the intercom made my heart skip a beat. But the days passed, and no one came for me. A week later, I realized why. I accidentally came across an article on the Internet about victims of microloan scammers. Among the photos, I saw a familiar face. Tatyana Aleksandrovna from Kursk.
The same woman for whom Forsage issued a loan. Tatyana has been battling cancer for six months, journalists wrote. But recently it turned out that loans totaling 340 thousand rubles were issued in her name. Collectors demand repayment of the debt, ignoring the woman's health. The family is on the verge of bankruptcy. 340 thousand. It turns out that we issued not one loan, but several.
And now the dying woman owes banks money that she never took. Further in the article there were stories of other victims. A pensioner from Tambov who lost his apartment because of a debt on a loan that he did not issue. A family from Ryazan who can't get a mortgage because their credit history is ruined by our operations. A young mother who was fired from her job after calls from debt collectors. I read these stories and understood. Every number in our reports was someone's ruined life.
Every successful operation meant that an ordinary person would get problems they didn't deserve. In eight months of work, three million rubles passed through my hands, but I earned them on the tears and suffering of hundreds of people who didn't even know it. By May 2020, most of the network participants were arrested. But they left us alone. The creator of the network did not have complete information about the regional teams.
Maybe he was lucky. Or maybe one of those arrested covered for me by not giving me up under interrogation. But I couldn't stand it anymore. Now, almost two years later, I understand the main thing. There is no easy money on the Internet. If you are offered to get rich quickly with someone else's data, it always means that someone will suffer. And sooner or later you yourself will suffer. The three million that passed through my hands cost me sleep, peace and humanity.
I went from a curious teenager to a criminal who ruined lives for money, and the worst thing is that I did it consciously. After the story with Tatyana, I realized that I was hurting people. But I continued because money seemed more important than other people's suffering. Sicker's story collected more than 500 comments. Some shared similar stories about how teenagers are drawn into microloan schemes. Others argued about where the line is between a victim of circumstances and a conscious criminal.
The story of Tatyana Aleksandrovna from Kursk received especially many responses. Several users wrote that they recognized their friends in the description who became victims of similar schemes. And the most disturbing thing is that such stories are becoming more and more common. The Darknet is full of offers of easy money for teenagers. And the only way to check the veracity of the promises is to try.
2.7 million dollars. That's how much has passed through my hands over the past two years. I thought I was rich. But when I realized whose money it was and what they were paying for, I wanted to get every cent back. But you can't just quit this game. My nickname is Alex94. At least that's how I was known online. I won't tell you my real name, nor the city I'm from. I'll just say that it's a small place in the east, where the most interesting event is the opening of a new supermarket.
I lived with my uncle after my parents died. He worked at a factory, there was never enough money, but we somehow got by. Summer 2020. Pandemic, quarantine, everyone is sitting at home. I was 16. The only thing that brightened up these endless days was games. CSGO, Dota, sometimes some browser games. The ordinary life of a teenager who dreams of a new video card, but understands that her uncle's salary won't pull it off.
On June 22, 2020, I was sitting in the discord channel of my CS:GO team, when someone sent a link to a telegram channel into the general chat. The link had a short message "Easy money on the Internet. No investment. Verified." Usually I ignore such spam, but then, I don't know, maybe boredom, or maybe despair from the fact that there were a measly 15 rubles on my Steam account.
The channel was called something like "Izzy Money Hub." About three thousand subscribers, posts every day, Earnings schemes, screenshots of transfers, a success story. A classic scam, I thought. But one post caught my attention. Casino affiliate programs. Bring a player, get a percentage of his losses. For life. Under the post there was a link to some European casino and a promo code.
Using this promo code when registering, each of your friends will bring you from 50 to 200 dollars a month. At first, I was just studying. Reading reviews, watching how it works. It turned out that the scheme is simple. You register in the affiliate program, get a unique link and a promo code, distribute among friends and acquaintances. They play, you get a commission. On July 3, 2020, I registered with my first affiliate program.
I started with gaming friends, posted a link to a few discord servers, and wrote to a couple of classmates. “Try it, they double your first deposit, you can win enough for a new mouse,” it sounded harmless. The first money came in a week. $23. I looked at the notifications in the affiliate program’s telegram bot and couldn’t believe my eyes. $23 just for sharing the link.
By the end of July, I already had $89 on my balance. By the end of August, $156. I got hooked on this buzz like a drug addict on a fix. Every morning, the first thing I did was check the statistics. How many new registrations, how many deposits, how much money. Then I thought it was just advertising. That I was helping people find entertainment, and at the same time earning pocket money. Naive idiot. In September 2020, I expanded my geography. I started posting promo codes in Russian gaming publics on VKontakte, on forums about earnings, even in the comments to YouTube videos.
Everywhere where people who wanted quick money gathered. By October, my monthly income exceeded $ 500. For a 16-year-old kid from the provinces, this was astronomical money. My uncle earned about the same, toiling at a factory for 12 hours a day. But on November 15, 2020, at 3:47 am, I received a message that changed everything.
An account without a photo, without a name. Just a set of numbers and letters, user, underscore 7-7-2-9-3-9-4. I saw your casino results. Not bad for a beginner, ready for serious money. I looked at the phone screen in complete darkness, my heart pounding. Who is this? How did he find out about my results? And most importantly, what does he mean by serious money? I didn’t know that this simple question in a night message would be the beginning of a journey.
Which would lead me to a place from which there is no return. I stared at this message for about 15 minutes before I decided to answer. “Who are you?” I wrote, trying to appear calm. The answer came in 3 minutes. “The one who sees potential. Your results in 4 months are impressive.
More than a thousand dollars in net profit with zero investment. But you work like an amateur. That’s for the point. What do you mean an amateur? Spamming promo codes in chats is a schoolboy’s level. You don’t want to be content with pennies all your life, do you? He was right. With all my successes, 400 or 500 dollars a month was far from the money I dreamed of. And then… someone appears who promises serious money.
What do you offer, I wrote. Meeting tomorrow at 7 p.m. Discord is a private channel. Bring me the statistics for the last two months. I'll show you how to increase your income tenfold. I doubted it. Meet with an unknown guy from the Internet? On the other hand, what did I have to lose? The statistics could be faked anyway, and it wouldn't hurt to learn something new. On November 16, 2020, I connected to the Discord voice channel.
Nickname of the interlocutor. Mentor X. The voice of an adult man, the accent is difficult to determine - either Ukrainian or Belarusian. He spoke clearly, without unnecessary words. Show the statistics. He said without greetings. I expanded the screen with the affiliate panel. Forty-seven active referrals. Four hundred twenty-three dollars for the last month. The average check is eighty-nine dollars.
Primitive. Mentor X summarized. You are catching small fry in troubled waters instead of going after the big fish. How much time do you spend a day on advertising? Two or three hours. Posting in public groups. Replies to comments. Hence the result. You work like a spammer, not a marketer. He was silent. Ready to learn. The mentor gave me a lecture on affiliate marketing for the next two hours.
I learned about targeted advertising, about sales funnels, about audience segmentation, about the fact that instead of stupid spam you need to create warm traffic. Imagine, instead of 50 random players, you have 10 targeted ones. But each of them brings in not 8 bucks a month, but from 50 to 80. Do you feel the difference? I felt it. It was math that changed the game dramatically.
“But there is a nuance,” he added, “quality traffic requires investment. Advertising, landing pages, analytics… I am ready to invest 200 bucks in my training. 200 dollars was half of my savings. But if he was telling the truth, it will pay off in a month.” “Agreed,” I said. “Great. You will receive the instructions tomorrow. On November 11, I received a 23-page file.
A guide to targeted traffic arbitrage for the “gambling vertical.” I read it for three days in a row, taking notes. The main idea was simple - instead of spam, create advertising campaigns, buy traffic on Facebook and Google, directing it through landing pages to affiliate links. But the devil was in the details. Mentor X taught me how to work with Volum, a tracker that masked affiliate links.
He showed me how to set up tracking pixels and how to create multiple funnels for different types of audiences. “Facebook bans gambling ads,” he explained during our weekly calls. “But if you advertise earning strategies or investment courses, and then lead to a casino through a landing page, that’s a gray area.” By the end of November, I launched my first advertising campaign.
The budget was $50 — targeting men aged 25 to 45 who were interested in cryptocurrencies. The landing page was about the secrets of earning on Bitcoin, which at the end offered to “test” the strategy on a demo account at a partner casino. The result exceeded expectations. In a week — 23 registrations, 12 deposits, $540 in profit. With costs of $50, it was incredible. “Now you get the point,” Mentor X said on the next call. “Scale up.”
December 2020 was spent in constant work. I tested creatives, optimized funnels, studied analytics. Every day - new companies, new approaches to the audience. By the New Year, my monthly income exceeded $ 2,500. I felt like a real entrepreneur. But in January 2021, something changed. Mentor X began to offer more aggressive methods.
“Do you want to reach the next level?” he asked on January 15 during our regular call. “What do you mean? Until now, you have worked with legal affiliate programs. But there are other opportunities. Offers with higher payouts. From $ 200 to $ 500 per lead instead of $ 30 or $ 50. I am interested. " “What offers? Forex? " “Binary options.
Crypto investments. Let's just say that not all brokers work with completely clean licenses. Red flags started to develop in my head, but greed was stronger. And the risks? Minimal, if you know how to work. The main thing is to properly design traffic and not show up. On January 28, 2021, a mentor sent me a list of new affiliate programs. The names were unfamiliar, but the payouts were impressive.
$300 for a deposit of $500, $150 for registration with verification. “Try a couple of offers,” he wrote. “If it works, I’ll introduce you to a closed team. They work with even more interesting projects there.” A closed team. These words were mesmerizing. I imagined an elite club of professionals earning tens of thousands of dollars a month. Then I didn’t know that this invitation would become a one-way ticket.
On February 5, 2021, after two weeks of working with new offers and earning $5,300, I received a message from the mentor. “Show us 10 thousand turnover per month. You will learn what real money is. An invitation to a closed channel will be waiting. " I looked at these words, and adrenaline boiled in my blood. 10 thousand revolutions seemed like an achievable goal. But I had no idea what door I was about to open.
March 2021. I was sitting in front of the computer at 2.30 am, updating the statistics in the tracker every 5 minutes. There were 3 days left until the end of the month, and I was only $ 280 short of the coveted 10 thousand turnover. Over the past weeks, I turned into a traffic generation machine. I slept 4-5 hours, the rest of the time I tested creatives, launched campaigns, responded to leads in messengers.
My uncle began to worry, seeing how thin and haggard I was. "Are you a drug addict?" he asked one evening, looking into my room. "Working," I answered, without looking up from the monitor. "What kind of work at 17? You have exams coming up. If he knew that his nephew earns ten times more than him... On March 29 at 23:47 I closed the last deal of the month.
Total turnover: $10,247. I took a screenshot of the statistics and sent it to the mentor. The answer came in an hour. Not bad. Tomorrow at 8 p.m. you will receive a link to a closed channel. Welcome to the League of Professionals. March 30, 2021. A Telegram channel called Inner Circle Pro. 47 Seven members, all with nicknames without photos.
Messages were deleted automatically every twenty-four hours. The first thing I saw was a pin with rules. First, no personal data. Second, no screenshots of correspondence. Third, discussion only in the channel. Fourth, violation equals permanent ban. The channel admin, coordinator Zira, wrote to me in a private message.
Newbie. The mentor speaks highly of your results, they work differently here. Not affiliate programs for schoolchildren, but a serious business. Ready to meet the team? The next few days I just read the correspondence in the channel, trying to understand what they do here. We discussed some companies, traffic supplies, white and gray funnels. The amounts mentioned were completely different - tens and hundreds of thousands of dollars. The channel participants introduced themselves only by roles.
Traffic. Master. Creative. Analytics. Pro. I realized that I had joined a team where everyone was responsible for their own area of work. On April 3, Zero offered me my first task. We need to test a new funnel. Forex broker, premium segment. $500 for registration with a deposit of a thousand. Can you bring 20 leads in a week? $500 per lead - this was astronomical money compared to what I worked with before.
But the requirements for traffic were also different. Not students with pocket money, but people with serious savings. "What are the requirements for the audience?" I asked. Men from 35 to 55 years old. Income from 5,000 bucks a month. Interest in investments. Geography. USA, Germany, Australia. "The landing page is ready, you just need to drive traffic."
He sent a link to the landing page. It looked professional. No flashy headlines about getting rich quick. Solid design, reviews from satisfied customers, regulator certificates. At first glance, an absolutely legal investment project. But something was alarming. Everything was too perfect. And is the broker real, I asked. Of course. There is a license, they withdraw money.
It's just... the trading conditions are not the most favorable for clients. I did not dig deeper. 10 thousand dollars for a week of work outweighed all doubts, I launched the company on April 5. The target was the US audience through Facebook, the creative was about the strategies of millionaires in a crisis. The conversion was excellent. The dear audience willingly clicked on high-quality advertising. In a week, I brought 23 leads. Earned 11 thousand 500 dollars.
"Never in my life have I seen such money." "Impressive," Zero wrote to me. "Ready for permanent cooperation." The following months passed in a blur. Every week, new funnels, new brokers, new schemes. I worked with crypto platforms, binary options, high-risk investment funds. The names of the companies changed, but the scheme was the same - to lure people with bright promises, to force them to make a large deposit.
Zero's coordinator gradually brought me up to speed. It turned out that the team not only works with dubious brokers, but also creates their own projects. See this landing page? He showed it to me in May. We made it in three days. The broker does not exist, but the site looks convincing. In a month, we will close the project and launch a new one. And what about the clients' money? What money? They invested in a high-risk asset. The risks were spelled out in the contract. I began to understand that I was not working with affiliate marketing, but with something darker.
But the money was too good to stop. By the summer of 2021, my monthly income reached $ 25 thousand. I bought my uncle a new car, saying that I won the lottery, rented a separate apartment supposedly for study. But I could not live in peace. The faces of people from advertising companies constantly spun in my head. Pensioners who invested their savings in reliable investments.
Hard workers who dreamed of providing their children with a future. On August 15, 2021, everything changed. Zero wrote an announcement in the channel. “We are moving to a new level. Exclusive offers, access to premium traffic, payments from a thousand dollars per lead. I had already learned to understand the team's euphemisms. The new level meant even more dubious schemes. Premium traffic - people with really large sums.
But there are conditions, he added. Work only through our servers. Complete confidentiality. They sent me instructions on how to set up a VPN and an encrypted connection to their system. The download files were in some cloud storage with a 20-character password. When I logged into their system, I saw a control panel that boggled my mind. Hundreds of companies in dozens of countries. Millions of dollars in turnover. This was not a team of freelancers, this was a real corporation.
But the strangest thing was in the finance section. The amounts of income did not match the partner payments. The money came not only from brokers, but also from some external suppliers. I opened one of the reporting files and saw a line that made my blood run cold. Transaction processing. Crypto exchangers. Payment systems. Bank transfers. Legalization fee. 15%. Legalization.
I looked at this file and gradually realized that I was not on an affiliate team. I had become part of a money laundering machine. I couldn’t sleep for three days after I saw the file labeled “Legalization.” I tossed and turned in my bed, trying to convince myself that this was just tax planning or something. But curiosity was stronger than fear. On August 11, 2021, around midnight, I logged into their system again.
This time I decided to dig deeper. I opened the “Financial Flows” section and started studying the reporting files. What I saw made me move away from the monitor. Incoming payments were not only coming from casinos and forex brokers. The bulk of the money was coming from organizations with names like “Consulting Group,” “Investment Solutions NK,” “Digital Services Pro.” The amounts were astronomical — hundreds of thousands of dollars at a time.
The payment purpose column was the same everywhere. Services. Internet marketing. But the scariest thing was in another file. Traffic.Sources.Excel. It was written in black and white where this money actually came from. Supplier 001. Pharmaceuticals South America. Supplier 015. Specialty goods "Eastern Europe".
Supplier 029 Financial instruments Africa I was not an idiot. Pharmaceuticals from South America are drugs. And our team turned this dirty money into clean money, running it through legal advertising companies and affiliate programs. The scheme was ingeniously simple. Criminal organizations bought advertising services from us for millions of dollars. We showed reports on supposedly conducted companies, and the money came out as legal profit from online marketing.
Some of the funds actually went to real advertising. This created a plausible cover. But the bulk simply flowed through fictitious transactions, changing the origin of the funds. And I was part of this machine. Each of my leads, each company helped launder money from the drug and arms trade. $2.7 million. That’s how much money passed through my accounts in a year and a half.
I thought I was making money advertising casinos, but I was actually servicing an international money-laundering network. I felt sick. I thought of all the people from my advertising campaigns. The retirees investing their last savings. The workers dreaming of a better life. They weren’t just losing money on dubious investments. They were becoming part of a criminal scheme. And me? I was only 17 when it all started. I didn’t know. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. The next day, I made a decision.
No dramatic explanations, no threats or demands. Just stopped responding in chats. Deleted all accounts associated with the team. Cleaned the computer, reinstalled the system. Coordinator Zira wrote to me for another week. “Where are you? Any urgent projects?” “Later.” “Do we have questions for you?” “Then threats.” “Do you know too much to just disappear?” But I didn’t answer.
A month later, the messages stopped. Returned to normal life. Finished school, entered university to become a marketer. My uncle thinks that I simply outgrew my passion for making money on the Internet. Two years have passed. Sometimes, lying in bed at night, I monitor the news about the arrests of cybercriminals, afraid to see familiar Niki. So far, silence. Maybe the team broke up.
Maybe it reformatted. Or maybe it continues to work without me. I often think about those people who lost money because of my companies. About families left without savings. About old people I deceived with beautiful promises, the money I earned, spent on education and helping my uncle. I told myself that at least this way I could partially atone for my guilt. But at night I still dream of those advertising banners, those happy faces from fake reviews, those amounts in Excel files.
Why am I telling this story? Because the Internet is full of guys like me. They are offered easy money or a dream job. Most of these offers are a trap. And when you understand what you got yourself into, it is much more difficult to get out. I was lucky, I was a minor, I did not know the real essence of what was happening, and I was smart enough to get away in time.
But the 2.7 million dirty dollars that passed through my hands did not disappear anywhere. Somewhere now this money continues to work. They buy new batches of drugs, new weapons, finance new crimes. And a piece of this guilt will forever remain with me. If someone reads this and recognizes themselves in my story, stop. Stop before it's too late. Because there is no easy money.
Someone pays a real price for every dollar. Alex-94's story has collected over 300 comments from Dark Corner users in the first days of publication. Some shared similar stories about accidentally getting caught up in gray schemes, others argued about whether a minor is guilty of adult crimes? Alex himself sometimes appears in the comments, giving monosyllabic answers to questions, but he does not reveal any more details.
Perhaps he has already said everything he wanted. This story struck me not with its technical details. Most of the described schemes are known to cybersecurity specialists. What struck me was the transformation of an ordinary teenager who dreamed of a new video card into a link in an international money laundering machine. And the most frightening thing is that he still does not know whether his old partners continue to launder millions or are already behind bars.
When the FBI knocks down your door at 4 a.m., you have exactly 12 seconds before they come up to the second floor. That’s just enough time to press one button. That red button that erases three years of your life in a split second. I was known on the darknet as a conduit. Over the past three years, more than $10 million in dirty money has passed through my Shadow Wash network, but the story began much earlier, with the simple curiosity of a 12-year-old kid who just wanted to understand how computers work.
It was February 2018, I turned 14, and my dad brought home an old Dell Optiplex from work. It was a shame to throw it away, maybe my son will need it for school, he told my mother. He didn’t know that he was signing my death warrant. The first few months, I just played old games and surfed the Internet. But by the summer, I was drawn deeper.
I found programmer forums, downloaded my first Python textbooks, and started to figure out Linux. My peers were playing football, and I was sitting in the basement and learning to hack my neighbors' Wi-Fi. By the fall of 2018, I already knew what Tor was, and accidentally stumbled upon my first darknet market. Not for shopping, just out of curiosity. But what I saw there turned my understanding of the Internet upside down.
It was a whole world hidden from ordinary people, a world where people traded everything imaginable and remained completely anonymous. On the morning of February 22, 2019, I made my first real hack. The target was the database of a local auto repair shop. Nothing serious. I just wanted to see if it would work. It took me 40 minutes. I downloaded all their files, looked through them, and then simply deleted them from mine.
At that time, I still didn't know what to do with the stolen information. But the adrenaline was incredible. The feeling of power, control, the fact that you can get into places where others can’t go – it was more addictive than any drug. By the summer of 2019, I was already earning my first money by hacking accounts on social networks to order. The amounts were ridiculous – from 20 to 50 dollars per account. But for a fifteen-year-old teenager, this was a lot of money.
My parents thought I was earning money by tutoring in computer science. The real turning point happened in the fall of 2020, when I met a man nicknamed Architect on one of the hacker forums. He offered me a job. Not just one-time hacks, but ongoing cooperation. You have talent, kid. He wrote to me in a private chat, but you waste it on trifles.
Architect taught me the main rule of the darknet – never work directly with clients. There should always be intermediaries, several levels of protection between you and those who ultimately get the result. Once you become visible, he said, you are already dead. By the end of 2020, I was no longer a simple lone hacker. I was studying money laundering schemes, understanding cryptocurrencies, building my own secure communication channels.
And that’s when I had an idea that would turn into a masterpiece two years later. But first, I had to understand one simple thing. Honest people don’t survive on the darknet. Honesty on the darknet is a luxury you can’t afford. I realized this on January 12, 2000, at age 21, when I betrayed a man for the first time. His name was Cryptoking, and he was my first real partner after the Architect.
We met on a forum where he was looking for a hacker to hack the payment system of a small online casino. The amount was serious – $15,000 for the job plus 10% of the stolen money. It took me three weeks to hack it. The casino used an outdated version of the payment system with a security hole that I learned about from the Architect. By early February, we had $340,000 in bitcoins in a shared wallet. Everything was going according to plan until Cryptoking suggested a small change in the terms.
“Hey, kid,” he wrote to me in encrypted chat on February 8. “What if we don’t stop? I have contacts at three more casinos. We can create a permanent scheme.” The idea was tempting, but something was bothering me. CryptoKing was too quick to offer to expand the operation, too willing to take risks. The architect always said.
When a partner gets greedy, it’s time to get rid of them. I started digging up information about CryptoKing through contacts on forums. What I learned made my blood turn to ice. It turned out that three months earlier, he had worked with a couple of hackers from Germany on a similar scheme. The operation failed, the Germans were arrested, and CryptoKing disappeared with all the money. On February 17, 2021, I made a decision that would change me forever.
Instead of simply breaking off the partnership, I did what any darknet survivor would do. He struck first. I transferred all the money from our shared wallet to my addresses, while sending the forum administration a dossier on Cryptoking I had compiled with evidence of his previous scams. An hour later, his account was blocked. My share was supposed to be about $50,000.
Instead, I received all 340,000. I justified myself by saying that he was preparing to screw me over, but the truth was simpler. I simply chose money over principles. This money became the starting capital for Shadowash. In the spring of 2021, I began studying the cryptocurrency laundering market. Most services worked on the same principle - technological mixers that mixed bitcoins between thousands of addresses, making transactions untraceable.
But they all had one problem - they left digital traces. Law enforcement agencies were becoming smarter at analyzing the blockchain. Every month, large mixers were closed, administrators were arrested, millions were confiscated. I needed a fundamentally different approach. The idea came to me on June 23, 2021, when I read the news about another closure of Bitcoin FOC, one of the oldest mixers out there on the darknet.
The police tracked the transactions through complex blockchain analysis algorithms. What if we removed technology from the equation altogether? I thought. Instead of automated mixers, real people. Instead of complex algorithms, simple human chains. The client sends bitcoins, the drops cash them out via ATMs and cards, the coordinators collect the cash and hand it over to the client.
No servers to confiscate. No algorithms to analyze. Just people who can be bought. And cash that is untraceable. By August 2021, I had a ready-made Shadow Wash plan and enough money to launch. All that was left was to find people. I found my first coordinator on the LocalBitcoins forum. His name was Phoenix. And he had been cashing out cryptocurrencies in small volumes for two years.
When I offered him a permanent job with a guaranteed income of $ 3,000 a month, he agreed without hesitation. “The main rule,” I told him in our first conversation, “is that you don’t know who I am.” I don't know who you are. On September 3, 2021, we conducted the first test operation. $5,000 in bitcoins turned into cash in 48 hours. The commission was 15%.
This is significantly less than our competitors. Shadow Louse was born, but I didn't yet know that every success on the darknet brings you closer to your own death. Money on the darknet smells of fear. And by the end of 2021, this smell followed me everywhere. In three months of work, Shadow Louse has already processed $200 thousand. Phoenix coped with its territory - the East Coast.
But applications came from all over the country. I needed to scale, which meant looking for new coordinators. I found the second person in my network by chance. On November 15, 2021, an ad appeared on the Black Market forum. Looking for a permanent job cashing out. 3 years of experience. Own team of drops in Texas.
The author signed up as Viper. I studied his history on the forum for 2 days. Clean reputation, positive reviews, no failures. But most importantly, he was already working with a team. This meant a ready-made infrastructure. Our first meeting in an encrypted chat took place on November 18. What do you offer? His first question was business-like. A stable flow of clients, a base salary of 4,000 plus a percentage of turnover. Your territory is all states from Texas to California.
Commission. 15% in total. Of which 8% for you and your drop, 7% for me for clients and coordination. Silence lasted for 5 minutes. Then the answer came. Dill. By Christmas 2021, I had two regional coordinators. And a total turnover of half a million dollars. But the real breakthrough happened in January 2022, when a client contacted me who changed everything.
His nickname was simply "Client 7", but the size of the request spoke for itself. $ 2 million in bitcoin needed to be converted into cash in 2 weeks. The largest operation in the history of Shadow Wash. Where did such money come from? I asked in the chat. It's better not to know. Can you handle it or not. I knew it was either a breakthrough or a trap, but the amount was too tempting.
My share was $ 300 thousand. For such an operation, I needed additional people. Through Phoenix, I found a coordinator in Chicago, a girl named Shade, who specialized in working with shell companies. Through Viper, I found ... an international transfer specialist from Miami. By February 2022, my network looked like a real corporation. Four regional coordinators, each with their own team of drops, a total of about 40 people across the country.
The operation with client seven took 12 days. We split $2 million into hundreds of small transactions, ran it through dozens of ATMs and cards in different states, and collected the cash through a network of shell companies. Everything went smoothly. When the last packet of money was handed over to the client, I knew. Shadow Wash was no longer a startup. It was an industrial-scale money laundering machine.
But success on the dark web is a double-edged sword. The more you make, the more people pay attention to you. And not just clients. On March 5, 2022, Phoenix sent me a message that made my hands shake. Someone was asking questions about Shadow Wash on the forum. The user had a new account, but the questions were too specific. I checked the forum.
The user was asking about our rates, geography, work, volumes, transactions. The questions sounded like they were from a potential client, but something about the wording was alarming. “Too professional for a newbie,” Viper texted me that same day. I made a life-saving decision: a complete overhaul of my operational security. New servers, new communication channels, new aliases for all coordinators.
A week later, New Investor disappeared from the forum without making a single order. By the summer of 2022, Shadow Wash was processing over a million dollars a month. I had two houses in different states, fake IDs in three names, and enough money to disappear at any moment. But I couldn’t stop. The money, the power, the feeling of controlling an entire shadow empire—it was more addictive than any drug.
On August 1, 2022, the largest client in the history of the service contacted me. The request was for $5 million. Little did I know that this was the beginning of the end. $5 million is not just money. It’s the point of no return, after which you either become a legend of the darknet or disappear forever.
The client showed up on August 1, 2022, under the nickname Kingmaker. The account was old, the reputation was impeccable, but the request was insane even by Shadow Wash standards. “I need to clear 5 million in a month. Can you handle it?” His first message was extremely laconic. I stared at the screen for half an hour, rereading the number. My share was $750,000, more than I had earned in the entire previous year.
“Source?” I wrote. “It’s better not to know. But I guarantee it. This is not the FBI or a trap, just a business that needs to be made invisible. For such an operation, I needed to double the network. By the end of August, Shadow Wash already had 60 people working. Six regional coordinators, each with a team of 8 drops.
The geography covered the entire country from New York to Los Angeles. I developed a new scheme specifically for Kingmaker. The money was divided into thousands of microtransactions of 2-5 thousand dollars each. Each transaction went through a chain of three drops in different states. The first one received the bitcoins and cashed them out at ATMs. The second one took the cash and transferred it via money orders. The third one received the transfers and transferred the final amount to the client. The operation started on August 15, 2022. The first week went perfectly.
1.2 million were successfully processed without a single glitch. The coordinators reported stable work, the drops received their percentages, the client was happy with the speed. But in the second week, strange things started happening. On August 22, Phoenix sent an alarming message. “One of my drops in Boston says he’s being followed. He’s seen the same car three days in a row. I ordered this drop to be temporarily excluded from the operation, but two days later, similar messages came from a viper in Texas and our guy in Miami.
Either we have mass paranoia, or someone is actually watching. “Shade texted me from Chicago. On August 25th, I made the decision to pause the operation for 48 hours to analyze the situation. Kingmaker was unhappy. I have tight deadlines. Every day that I delay costs me money. Safety is more important than speed.
I responded. But inside, I was gnawing at doubt. What if this was just paranoia? What if I was losing my biggest client because of fear? The answer came on August 27th at 3:47 am. Phoenix sent an urgent message. “They busted the drops in Philadelphia. Full search. They took computers and phones.” My heart stopped. “If they have phones, then they have correspondence. If they have correspondence, then they can trace the connections.”
I spent the next six hours in a panic, wiping servers, changing all communication channels, warning coordinators. By noon, the entire Shadow Wash infrastructure was destroyed and rebuilt from scratch. But it was too late. On August 28th, Dropp was arrested in Houston, on the 29th, the coordinator in Denver. Then three at once in Los Angeles. I realized that these were not random raids. Someone was methodically dismantling my network piece by piece.
On August 31st, Kingmaker sent his final message. “Operation cancelled. You can keep the money for the portion already processed.” I stared at the message and it hit me. Too convenient, too timely. Kingmaker showed up just when my network was at its maximum size. He offered me exactly the amount of money that would make me expand as much as possible. And he disappeared just when the arrests started.
Kingmaker wasn’t a client. He was bait. Someone had spent months forcing me to grow my network to a size where it could be effectively shut down. He used my greed against me. On September 1st, 2022, I made the hardest decision of my life: shut down Shadow Wash. I sent the same message to every remaining coordinator. Operation terminated forever.
Erase all traces, change your documents, disappear. Then I wiped all servers, destroyed all wallets, deleted all accounts. In two years, Shadow Wash had processed over $12 million. My share was almost $2 million. But the price was too high, half of my people were in prison, and the best analysts in the world were hunting me. On September 3, I left my house for the last time, knowing that Kanduit was dead.
Now I had to learn to live with a new name in a new world. But the hunters were already on my trail. And I had very little time left.
100 billion rubles. That's how much the phone scammers stole during that period. While I was part of it. I was 15. All I did was send SMS from a fake phone. 30 thousand a week. That's several times more than my teachers earned. You would have agreed to that too. I thought I'd found the perfect part-time job. Until I realized what I'd gotten myself into. I live in the regional center.
The population is about 400 thousand. An ordinary family. Dad works in a management company, mom is an accountant in a clinic. Middle class. Nothing special. A three-room apartment in a residential area, an old foreign car, a vacation once a year at the sea. Everything changed on April 14, 2024. That day, I was sitting at home, scrolling through Telegram. Preparing for an algebra test, but mostly glued to my phone.
I saw a post in one of the channels about earnings. An operator is needed to send out SMS. Remotely. Salary. Up to 200 thousand per month. No experience needed. 200 thousand per month. My parents didn’t earn that much together. I wrote to the bot specified in the post. He responded quickly. Started with simple questions. Age, city, willingness to work at night. Then he explained the gist. You send out SMS through a special panel. Banks, delivery, tech support, regular notifications, we pay for the number of successful sends.
It sounded harmless. Like sending out ads or notifications. I had already worked part-time as an operator at Yandex.Food, I knew what remote work and piecework were. “When can you start?” the eldest asked. That’s what I called him in my head. “Even now?” I answered. Half an hour later, a link to the web panel and instructions arrived by email.
Login, password, simple interface. Choose a message template, load the number database, click "Send". Nothing complicated. The first messages really looked like bank notifications. Your card is blocked. Follow the link to unblock. Or the parcel is awaiting receipt. Pay the commission. They paid honestly. 50 rubles for 100 sent SMS. If people clicked on the link - a bonus.
On the first day, I earned 800 rubles for three hours of work. This was crazy money for a schoolboy. My parents thought I was learning English through an app. I sat in the room with headphones, poking at my phone. What's suspicious about that? And I explained the money by saying that I was writing a test and helping high school students with computer science, so as not to be detected. I worked every day after school. The number database was updated automatically.
Thousands of phones all over Russia. I just pressed buttons and watched the numbers in my wallet grow. In the first week I earned 12 thousand, in a month - 47. In May, the senior suggested increasing the workload, gave access to "hotter" databases. The numbers of people who had already responded to similar messages paid more. 80 rubles per hundred, plus a percentage of clicks. I didn't ask questions, I only saw numbers.
Sent, delivered, earned. It was a game. I was good at this game. By the end of May, I was earning about 25 thousand a week. More than my classmates earned during the entire summer of part-time work. I bought myself everything I wanted. New sneakers, AirPods, games on Steam. I told my parents that I had saved up. The senior praised my productivity. He said that I was one of the best on the team. He offered bonuses for overtime, bonuses for the quality of work. I felt like a valuable employee of a successful company.
Everything seemed legal. The gray area of Internet marketing. I sent out SMS, received money. A simple scheme, no catches. Until I got that message from the senior that changed everything. Ready to move on to the next level? Less work, more money. But I would need voicemails. I didn’t understand what voicemails meant. But the number in the next message overrode all doubts. Up to 50 thousand a week.
Interested. 50 thousand a week? In a month. More than both my parents earned combined. Interested. I wrote. But then I didn’t know what else I was signing up for, didn’t understand that voicemails would change everything. And that there would be no turning back. On June 26, 2024, the senior sent new instructions. “Now my task has become more difficult. Instead of sending out mass text messages, I had to call specific people — those who had already bitten the bullet and clicked on the link.
“Introduce yourself as a bank employee,” the senior explained. “You say that their card is at risk. You urgently need to confirm the data for protection. The message included a calling program. The interface is simple. You load a database of numbers. You choose what name to call on - Sberbank, VTB, Tinkov - and press "call".
The program itself substituted the number from which the call was made. The victim's screen displayed the official number of the bank. The first call was made on June 27 at about 7 pm. "My hands were shaking," the man answered in a rough voice. "Good evening. This is Sberbank's security service. Your card has fallen into the risk zone. Go to hell, scammer!" And short beeps. The second call was from a middle-aged woman, but the result was the same.
"I know your schemes. And hang up." And so, on my seventh call, I successfully processed the first victim. A woman answered, about forty years old, judging by her voice. "Good evening, this is Sberbank's security service. Your card has fallen into the risk zone, suspicious transactions have been recorded." "What transactions?" she became alarmed. Then I read from the script given by the senior. I talked about scammers who were trying to gain access to her card.
That she urgently needed to block the old card and get a new one. "Are you sure you're from the bank?" She became wary. "There are a lot of scammers calling right now." "Of course, madam. Look at the phone screen. Do you see the number? You can check it online right now, it's the official Sberbank number." She checked. The number was indeed official, the program did a great job of spoofing it. "For additional verification, tell me the last four digits of your card," I continued.
"I'll check it against our database," she said. I paused, as if checking. Everything was correct. Now I needed the full details for an emergency block. Fifteen minutes of persuasion, and she dictated the card number, expiration date, and CVV code. For this successful call, I received five thousand rubles. For about half an hour of work. "Good job," the senior wrote, "I'll give you the hot database tomorrow.
People there are already scared, they're easier to take." The hot database was the numbers of those who had received text messages about card blocking or problems with accounts in the last few days. They were already in a state of alarm, waiting for a call from the bank. I called every day for the next two weeks. After school, I sat down at the computer, launched the program and started calling the list. On average, 15-20 calls per evening. 4-5 were successful. For each “knocked out” card data, they paid from 3,000 to 5,000 rubles, depending on the amount in the account.
By mid-July, my weekly revenue had grown to 40 thousand. I bought what I wanted, without counting the money. A new iPhone 15. Branded clothes. Top-end headphones. I told my parents that I was very successful in trading in games. I bought skins cheaply. I sold them more expensively. But most importantly, I felt like a professional. The eldest regularly sent updates, new conversation scripts, fresh databases, improved programs for spoofing.
I studied human psychology, learned to evoke the right emotions. Fear, urgency, trust. “The main thing is to create a sense of disaster,” the elder taught. “People in a panic don’t think logically. They just want the problem to go away. And it worked.” Without fail. At the end of July, the elder suggested another improvement. “Now I didn’t just get card details, but immediately helped people, so to speak, protect their money.
Transfer all funds to a safe account,” I told the victims. “This is a temporary measure. As soon as we block the scammers, we will return the money back. The safe account, of course, belonged to our team. August 3, 2024, was my most successful day. In one evening, I processed 18 people. 11 gave card details, 6 agreed to transfer money to a safe account. Mine is 84 thousand.
84 thousand rubles for 4 hours of work. I felt like the king of the world. I bought gifts for friends, took girls to expensive restaurants, rented an apartment for a day for parties. At 15, I had the life of a successful adult. My senior praised my results. Said he was considering me for a promotion. Newbie coordinator. Promised a percentage of their earnings plus bonuses for training.
I went with the flow of success and money, not thinking about what happened to people after our calls. They were just voices on the phone, sources of numbers on the screen. Until September 15, 2024, when I made a call that changed everything. I still dream about that voice at night.
September 15, 2024. Monday. I remember that day down to the smallest detail. By that time, I was already working at a percentage rate, as a valuable employee. Came home from school around 4 p.m., ate, sat down at the computer. Usual routine. My senior sent a new database. Particularly hot, as he put it. People who had already received several SMS messages about card blocking and were on the verge of panic.
The first five calls were standard: three hung up immediately, two listened but refused to give out their details. A woman answered on the sixth number. Her voice was quiet and elderly. “Hello? Good afternoon, this is Sberbank’s security service. Your card has fallen into the risk zone.” “Oh, my God, again?” she was alarmed. “I’ve been receiving messages about my card for three days now. I’m so worried.” The perfect victim.
Already scared, ready for a dialogue. “Don’t worry, we’ll help. We’ll block the scammers’ card now and protect your funds. Tell me, how much is in your account? Oh, I don’t know exactly. Was your pension transferred recently? Plus what you’ve saved up, about a hundred and eighty thousand, I guess. A hundred and eighty thousand rubles. For a pensioner, that’s a fortune. She’s been saving for years. Good. That’s a large sum. We need to protect it urgently. The scammers are already close to your account. Now I’ll help you transfer your money to a safe deposit.”
Then the standard scenario followed. I dictated our “safe account” number to her and explained how to make a transfer via a mobile app. She was not very tech-savvy and asked several times. “Are you sure you’re from the bank?” She suddenly began to doubt it. My granddaughter used to say that there were a lot of scammers. “Grandma, look at your phone screen.
” “What number is displayed?” She slowly dictated the number. That’s right, it’s the official Sberbank hotline number. Scammers can’t call from that number. Now tell me, what’s your last name? Morozova. Elena Vasilievna Morozova? A card ending in 4726? Yes, yes, that’s right. She was surprised. Of course, I had this data from the database, but for her it was final proof. The transfer procedure took half an hour.
She slowly followed my instructions. She made mistakes several times, and I patiently corrected her. Finally, the transfer was completed. “That’s it, your money is safe,” I said. “In a week, when we catch the scammers, we’ll transfer it back. Thank you very much, young man. You saved me. I was so worried, I couldn’t sleep at night. This hundred and eighty thousand is all I have.
Besides my pension.” There was such sincere gratitude in her voice that something inside me skipped a beat. “You’re welcome,” I muttered and quickly hung up. The older one immediately wrote. “Excellent work. One hundred and eighty thousand net. Your share is fifty-four thousand. Fifty-four thousand rubles for a half-hour conversation with a pensioner.”
But instead of joy, I felt something strange. For the first time in a month and at work, I thought about what happens to people after our calls. In the evening, I went online and started reading news about telephone scammers, stories of victims, pensioners who lost their life’s savings, people who took out loans, families that were destroyed by financial losses. One article particularly struck a chord.
A seventy-three-year-old resident of Voronezh lost 185 thousand rubles after a call from a bank employee. She had been saving the money for her disabled husband's treatment. After losing all her savings, she had a heart attack. 185 thousand. Almost like my victim today. I imagined that granny from the call. How she would go to the bank in a week to find out about her money.
How they would explain to her that she had become a victim of fraudsters. That there was no more money. That the so-called safe deposit was a scam, how she would cry. That night I couldn't sleep. For the first time in a month and work, I understood. I am not an IT employee, I am not a security specialist. I am a fraudster, a criminal. I steal money from old people. The next day, the elder one sent a new database.
I looked at the list of numbers and couldn’t bring myself to dial the first one. “What happened?” he wrote in the evening. “Yesterday I worked great, today I haven’t had a single call.” “I don’t feel well,” I lied. “Come to your senses tomorrow. I have some hot clients, I need to work them off.” But I couldn’t. Every time I picked up the phone, I remembered that granny’s voice. Her gratitude. Her naive trust.
A week later, the senior guy started pressuring me. “What’s going on? It’s been a week of downtime. The other guys are showing results, and you’re sitting there. Are you tired? You need a break.” “A break? With that kind of money, you’re crazy. Work. Or I’ll find a replacement.” The threat of replacement didn’t scare me. On the contrary, I began to hope that they would simply kick me off the team and I would be able to forget about this nightmare. But the senior guy didn’t give in. He offered bonuses, promised promotions, pressed on my greed.
And when that didn’t work, he started threatening. We have recordings of all your calls. Your voice, your data. If you want to leave the hard way, there will be problems. On October 2, 2024, I made a decision. I wrote to my senior. I'm leaving. Delete my contacts. Think again, he replied. You won't earn that kind of money anywhere else. I've already decided.
I said it confidently. That same evening, I deleted the phone app, cleared the history, deleted Telegram, took all the money I'd earned from my account card, about 500 thousand rubles, and hid it at home in cash. I told my parents that the project was closed and I wouldn't work part-time anymore. I returned to my normal school life - lessons, homework, meetings with friends. But there was no peace. Every night I dreamed of that pensioner's voice.
Her words. "Thank you very much, young man. You saved me." I tried to forget, but it didn't work. The news constantly flashed stories about telephone scammers. Every time I shuddered, thinking. What if they show one of my victims? The months dragged on slowly. I gradually calmed down, thinking that it was all behind me, that the digital traces were erased, that no one would find me. The elder one no longer wrote, the programs were deleted, the contacts were erased.
I was clean. Or so it seemed to me. I left the scheme and forgot about it. But it did not forget about me. Six months of freedom. That's what I called the period from October 2024 to March 2025. The first weeks after leaving the scheme were hard. I constantly looked back, expecting a catch.
Every call from an unfamiliar number made my heart beat faster. What if it was the elder one? What if the threats were serious. But the weeks went by, and nothing happened. In November, I started spending the money I had saved. Carefully, in small amounts. A new laptop, clothes, gifts for friends' birthdays. I explained to my parents that I had invested well in cryptocurrency, and its growth.
By December, the fears had almost disappeared. I was living the usual life of a 15-year-old schoolboy. School, friends - computer games. Winter holidays passed calmly. New Year, skating rink, parties. I almost forgot about the nightmare that I created in the summer. It seemed like a different life, a different person. In January 2025, ordinary school days began. Preparation for the Unified State Exam, additional classes, plans to enter a technical school.
I even thought about connecting my life with IT, but honestly, working as a programmer or system administrator. On February 14, Valentine's Day, I met a girl from a parallel class - Nastya. We started dating, went to the cinema, walked around the city. Ordinary teenage relationships without a dark past. In March, a new dream appeared - to go to a language camp in Bulgaria in the summer.
It cost 80 thousand rubles, but I had the money. My parents were surprised by my desire to study English abroad, but did not object. I felt like an ordinary schoolboy with a clear conscience. And almost forgot about this granny. On March 25, 2025, while browsing the news on Telegram, I came across a note. The organizer of a large-scale fraudulent scheme was detained in Moscow. The damage amounted to more than 100 million rubles.
My heart skipped a beat. I read on. The detainee coordinated the work of several dozen performers. The scheme operated from February to December 2024. From February to December 2024. Exactly the period when I worked. According to the investigation, the main category of people are citizens under 30 years old, often minors.
My hands began to shake. I reread the news three times, hoping that I was wrong. But no. This was our scheme. Our eldest was caught. The following days I lived in constant fear. Every rustle in the entrance, every unfamiliar number on my parents' phone made me think. That's it. They've come for me. But day after day passed, and nothing happened. March 30th I couldn't take it anymore. I started googling the news.
I found an article. A photo of a detainee. A guy, about 25 years old. In a jacket, looking at the floor. Could this really be the same older guy I'd been corresponding with for six months? The article mentioned that the investigation had seized servers with correspondence databases and call records. Work was underway to identify all the members of the criminal group. I understood. They would find my calls, my messages, my voice in the recordings. It was only a matter of time. But time passed, and nothing happened.
On April 1st I even thought that it was some kind of mystical date, April Fool's Day. And everything would work out. That they had caught the wrong person, or the records were damaged, or the investigation would not get to the minor perpetrators. On April 2nd I went to bed thinking that tomorrow would be a regular school day. I was wrong. April 3rd, 2025, at 6 am. A sharp ring at the door broke the morning silence.
I woke up from voices in the hallway. Unfamiliar male voices, my parents answering something in worried voices. “Is your son home?” I heard. “Yes, he’s sleeping. What happened?” “The Investigative Committee. We have a search warrant.” My heart sank. I knew this moment would come someday, but when it came, I was unprepared. Three men in civilian clothes entered the room.
They politely but insistently asked me to get dressed and come with them. “Mom, what’s going on?” I asked, feigning surprise. “Son, these people are saying that you… that you were involved in some kind of… online fraud.” Mom was crying. Dad stood there pale, not understanding what was happening. “There are reasons to believe that you are involved in an organized crime group,” one of the operatives explained.
I needed to go and give evidence. I didn’t resist. Deep down, I knew that sooner or later this would happen. I was silent in the car, thinking about the situation. They found the records of my calls, restored the correspondence, traced the financial flows. Now I had a choice - to cooperate with the investigation or not. But who to cooperate with? I did not know the real names, addresses, anything except for Nick in the telegram of the work scheme.
At that time, I did not yet know that the case contained details that would change my attitude to everything that was happening. At the Investigative Committee, they showed me a folder, a thick one, with hundreds of sheets. A case of fraud on an especially large scale. The investigator, a man of about 50, spoke calmly. We have recordings of all your calls. Your voice was identified by an expert examination, the correspondence was restored. You can cooperate, you will get a suspended sentence.
If you remain silent, you will get a real one. But it was not the threats that broke me. It was the photographs that broke me. The investigator opened the folder and showed the pictures. Elena Vasilievna Morozova, 73 years old. That same grandmother. In the photo, she was lying in a hospital ward, connected to an IV. “A heart attack,” the investigator said. “After I realized I had no more money, I saved up for my grandson’s operation. Cerebral palsy.
I looked at the photo and understood. I didn’t just steal money, I stole hope. There were other photos in the folder, dozens of people our team had deceived. Pensioners, large families, disabled people. Each with a story, with dreams, with plans for the stolen money. “Do you want to see the statistics?” the investigator asked. 847 victims from your calls. Total damage – 12.3 million rubles.
847 people. 12.3 million. Numbers behind which stood ruined lives. I testified, told everything I knew about the scheme. But the eldest turned out to be smarter, no one knew his real name. His address, too. Only his nickname and burnt-out phone numbers. The parents didn’t turn away, Mom cried, but hugged, Dad was silent, but hired a lawyer.
They loved me, no matter what, and that was the only bright spot in this nightmare. Now I'm on bail, not on leave. The case is in court. The lawyer says it's most likely a suspended sentence, given my age and cooperation with the investigation. But the court's verdict is not the main thing. The main thing is that I realized who I've become. At 15, I ruined the lives of 847 people, according to the investigation.
And no amount of remorse will fix that. That's why I'm writing this confession. Maybe some teenager will read it and think twice before agreeing to a harmless part-time job. Or maybe an investigator or prosecutor will find this text and understand. Before me is not a member of an organized crime group, but a kid who didn't know what he was getting into. I crossed the line between stupidity and crime the moment I dialed the pensioner's number for the first time. And I realized it only when it was too late.
I'm 16. "I'm a fraud, and I'll have to live with it all my life." This story has collected over 1,200 comments on the forum where it was first published. Several users wrote that they recognized their relatives in the description who became victims of similar calls. One commenter said that his grandmother also saved money for her grandson's treatment and lost everything after a similar conversation. The Internet is full of offers of "easy money" for minors.
And you can check the real price of this money only when it is too late. According to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the average age of the perpetrators in telephone schemes is from 16 to 20 years old. They do not understand that they are becoming part of a crime that ruins the lives of hundreds of people.
Confessions of the digital underground. We started with the story of GOST-Protocol, a team hunting for forgotten bitcoins. Then we delved into the dark world of telephone fraud with the confession of an operator named Sipher. And today I will tell you the story of the one known on the darknet as Shadow Tech. This is not just a story about a hacker. This is a story about how an ordinary guy, a talented IT freelancer from Zosten, turned into a master of social engineering, a man who can make you give away your most valuable thing with one phone call.
What makes a person cross this line? What does it feel like when your voice becomes a weapon? And most importantly, what price do you have to pay when this game ends? You will learn about the most daring operation of the Phantom Zone team - an attack on Dallas businesses that brought in almost 300 thousand dollars, about betrayal, imprisonment and an attempt to start life anew.
But this story is more than just a crime chronicle. This is an inside look at the methods that scammers use every day against ordinary people and companies. Knowledge that can protect you and your loved ones. And perhaps this is the paradox.
The Man Who Once Used People’s Trust Against Them Is Now Helping Protect Them From Them Get comfortable, check your door, and don’t answer any unknown calls for the next hour. We’re taking a journey into the dark side of human psychology. Where your greatest enemy is. Not a hacker program, but a human voice on the other end of the line. Because the most dangerous hacker attack doesn’t start with your computer, it starts with your trust.
I was a freelancer in Austin until July 10, 2015, when I took a job that changed my life. Austin, Texas. A city of startups, music, and endless opportunities for people like me. 27-year-old techies with ambitions but no strings attached. I lived in a small studio apartment in East Riversite. Nothing fancy. A desk, a bed, a powerful computer, and a view of the city that never sleeps.
The perfect place for someone who made a living from home. My real name doesn’t matter. I was known online as ShadowTech. In real life, I was just another IT freelancer, taking jobs on Upwork, Freelancer, and a few niche forums. Web development, server setup, and sometimes a little white hat hacking if a client wanted to test the security of their site.
Nothing criminal. Regular work for regular money. By July 2015, my bills were being paid, but barely. The freelance market was becoming increasingly crowded, clients were paying less, and competitors from lower-priced countries were taking over easy projects. I started looking for something more lucrative, where I could apply my skills in an unconventional way.
July 10, 2015. Friday. The Austin heat was unbearable. My air conditioner was running at full blast, and I was sitting at my computer, reviewing new jobs. I didn’t usually go to darknet forums to look for work, but that day something pushed me to check a few specialized job boards. And there I saw a message.
Needed to test the effectiveness of a phishing campaign. Payment in bitcoin, $500 per test. Experienced only. I froze. It was a turning point. Part of me knew this wasn’t the gray area I sometimes worked in anymore. This was downright black territory. But another part, louder, whispered, “Just this once, $500 for a simple job.
No one will get hurt.” I responded to the message, and a few hours later we were chatting in an encrypted chat. The person on the other end introduced himself as Nexus. He was brief and businesslike. We need to check how many people will fall for a phishing email that supposedly comes from their bank. We have a list and an email. The email is ready. Your job is to launch the campaign and collect statistics.
No withdrawals, just data collection. It sounded almost legit. Almost like a real security test. I agreed, took the instructions, and spent the weekend setting up the servers. On July 17, the emails went out to 500 recipients. The emails looked perfect, with the bank’s logo, the right fonts, and convincing text about “suspicious activity” and the need to verify the information.
Inside was a link to a fake login page that was indistinguishable from the real thing. By the end of the day, 137 people had clicked the link. 98 entered their usernames and passwords. When I sent the report to Nexus, it responded almost instantly. Impressive. 90% conversion. Here’s your $500. There’s more work to do if you’re interested. The $500 showed up in my Bitcoin wallet an hour later.
Easy money. Too easy. I told myself it was an experiment, that I was just testing people’s security awareness, but deep down I knew I’d crossed a line. Two weeks later, on August 25, I took another job from Nexus. This time, I had to call several people, posing as their ISP’s tech support, and coax their login credentials.
I had to record the calls to analyze the success of the approach. The first call I made was to a middle-aged woman from Houston. I was sure she would see through it in the first seconds. But she didn’t. My voice sounded calm and professional. I talked about a “routine security update,” that “we need to verify your details so there are no service interruptions.”
And she gave me everything – login, password, even the last four digits of her credit card, to verify my identity. When I finished the call and hung up, I was shaking. Not from fear or shame, but from adrenaline. From the realization of the power I had just felt. She believed my every word. I could make her do anything. By the end of the day, I had successfully processed eight out of ten intended targets.
Nexus was more than pleased and transferred me $800 instead of the promised $500 – my first bonus in this new world. “You have talent, Shadow Tech,” he wrote. “People trust you. It’s a rare gift.” In September and October, I took on a few more similar jobs. The pattern was always the same – calls or letters on behalf of banks, providers, technical services. And each time, everything became easier.
I learned to adapt to the interlocutor, change my tone, find an approach. With businessmen, I was brief and businesslike, with the elderly, patient and attentive. With techies, I used professional jargon, creating the illusion of a brother-in-law. By December 2015, I was making more money than ever before. My apartment was transformed. New equipment, designer furniture. I could afford to dine at the best restaurants in Austin.
But the main thing was that I was getting sucked in deeper. I remember the exact moment I realized I couldn’t go back to my day job. On December 15th, I was sitting at La Condesa in downtown Austin, sipping on an expensive Misqal and scrolling through reviews of my real jobs on freelancing platforms. The projects that had once seemed interesting now looked boring and pointless. $20 an hour to code websites? After $800 for a few hours of social engineering?
That night, Nexus sent me another message. “Time to level up. Go to this address tomorrow at 8 p.m. Password: amber sunset.” The link led to a secure vault on the dark web. Little did I know that behind that door, there was a whole team of people just like me waiting for me. I didn’t know I’d soon be involved in operations that would bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars, and I certainly had no idea what awaited me five years later.
I was sitting in my stylish apartment, looking at the lights of Austin at night, and feeling like the world was at my feet. I’d earned my first dirty money, but that was just the first step. I realized I could do more, and someone was already waiting for me on the darknet. March 12, 2016, I opened a chat that would become my new home. I remember that evening down to the smallest detail. It was raining outside my renovated Austin apartment.
A rarity for March. I was sitting at a new computer with two monitors. One of my first purchases with dirty money. It was exactly 8 p.m. when I clicked on the Nexus link and entered the password. Amber sunset. The chat window opened, and I saw a list of nicknames. About 20 people. Wiregost, Blackmamba, Nexus and others. Some were clearly online, others were offline.
Little did I know, I was looking at the people who would change my life. “Welcome to Shadow Tech,” Nexus wrote. “This is Phantom Zone. This is where we plan and coordinate.” That night, I learned that Phantom Zone wasn’t just a chat room. It was an organization of 23 people who specialized in social engineering and phishing. They had been working together for more than two years, targeting small and medium-sized businesses across America.
Everyone had a role. Techies, call voices, analysts, coordinators. And now they wanted me to join. “You’re a natural voice,” Nexus told me. “People trust you. And with your technical skills, you can be both a developer and an implementer. The proposition was simple. Work with us, get a percentage of every successful transaction.
No obligations, no contracts, just mutual benefit. I agreed, of course, and within a week I was participating in our first joint operation – an attack on a small coffee shop chain in Seattle. The scheme was elegant. WireGhost created phishing pages that imitated their processing company’s page, and I called managers on behalf of the security service and directed them there to update the data.
In three days, we gained access to their payment system and withdrew a little over $18,000. My share was $3,000. By the summer of 2016, I had fully integrated into the team. Every day began with checking encrypted messages, discussing new goals, analyzing successes and failures. I improved my skills by studying psychology, linguistics, and manipulation techniques.
I learned to change accents, imitate different dialects, and adapt to the victim’s psychotype. By 2018, I could make anyone reveal their secrets to me. One of my favorite techniques was simple. I would call a company employee, introduce myself as an IT specialist, and say that suspicious activity had been detected in their system. Then came the key phrase. “I can solve the problem, but I need your help.
You don’t want to be accused of leaking data, do you?” Fear worked flawlessly. “I remember exactly. May 17, 2018, we carried out an operation against a marketing agency in Chicago. I called their CFO, posing as a bank employee. In 12 minutes of conversation, I convinced him to transfer 61 thousand to a reserve account due to suspicious activity. When a person transfers money themselves, this is a perfect scheme.
No signs of hacking. By the end of 2019, our team was at its peak. 27 people, streamlined processes, stable income. We were like a corporation, only in the shadows. I moved to a penthouse in downtown Austin, bought an Audi RS7, traveled the world. But I always wanted more. Small operations no longer brought the same adrenaline. I craved something large-scale, daring, that could test the limits of my capabilities.
This is how the idea for Dallas was born. The largest operation in the history of our team. A series of coordinated attacks on dozens of businesses in one region. We were on top, but I wanted more. It's a shame that I didn't understand then where all this would lead me. September 1, 2020, we chose Dallas and it was our biggest game.
Dallas was not a random choice. We spent months studying different regions, analyzing local businesses, their connections, and their level of protection. Dallas was a perfect fit. A growing market, many new companies, not very strict security protocols, but most importantly, interconnectedness. Many large enterprises worked with the same banks, used the same accounting systems, and had common suppliers.
The plan was ambitious. 14 companies in 21 days, restaurants, clothing stores, two startups, and a small investment firm. We were counting on a total of about $250,000. The largest operation in the history of our team. Preparations took all of August. WireGhost created phishing pages and set up servers, BlackMamba studied the financial flows of companies, Voxtric prepared fake documents.
I worked on voice scripts, refining every intonation, every phrase. Each target had its own approach. The operation began on September 7. The first targets were two restaurants in downtown Dallas. I called on behalf of their processing company, reported an attempt at mass fraud and directed them to a phishing page to change their credentials.
By the evening, we had gained access to their payment systems and withdrew $17,000. On September 12, we took on clothing stores. Another legend - representatives of the updated supplier platform. I called managers, told them about the new portal where they could get discounts and asked them to register. Of course, to confirm their identity, all the same data was required - another $23,000.
By September 15, we had hacked the systems of half of the intended targets. The money was flowing like a river - $17, 23, 39, 52 thousand. We were on our way to the goal of $250 thousand. The toughest target was an investment firm on the 20th floor of a tower in downtown Dallas, they had good security, experienced IT staff.
But we had a secret weapon - knowledge of the corporate hierarchy. I called not the CIO, but his deputy, introducing myself as a consultant hired by the director to conduct a secret security audit. It worked flawlessly. He gave me everything I asked for, afraid to let the boss down. On September 18, we crossed the $ 200,000 mark.
Nexus offered to end the operation, but I insisted on continuing. We were so close. It was my mistake. By September 22, the total amount reached $ 286,000. We celebrated, sending each other congratulatory messages, planning how to spend the money. I transferred my share - 58 thousand - through several dummy wallets, bought more cryptocurrency, then transferred some to an offshore account.
Standard procedure. But something changed. I noticed it about a week later. WireGhost, usually the most active in our chats, became silent. He responded briefly, delayed reports, missed daily checks. On November 15, 2020, I noticed that WireGhost was too quiet. I shared my concerns with Nexus.
He agreed. Something was wrong? We launched an investigation, changed communication channels, tested new security protocols, looked for traces of leaks. Nothing. But my intuition was screaming danger. Dallas was too loud, too successful. We attracted attention. On November 27, I received an encrypted message from BlackMamba. VG was talking to the feds. Confirmed. Go offline.
I immediately disconnected, deleted all apps, transferred crypto to new wallets. But it was too late. At 6:12 am on December 3, 2020, my door shook from the impact. A team of FBI in full gear burst into my penthouse. I didn't even resist. As I was being led out in handcuffs, I saw him in the hallway - Wire Ghost. Real name - James Larson, 34, a tech specialist from Portland.
He stood next to the suited agent, not looking at me. “You could have just disappeared,” I told him. “Why turn everyone in?” He finally looked up, an odd mix of guilt and relief in his eyes. “I had a baby, Shadow Tag. I wanted a fresh start.” The arrest was just the beginning. Over the next few months, the FBI uncovered virtually the entire Phantom Zone structure.
Nineteen of the twenty-seven members were arrested. We were charged with computer fraud, identity theft, money laundering, organized crime. The list was long. My preliminary hearing was on February 17, 2021. The evidence was overwhelming – call records, chat screenshots, financial transactions.
WireGhost had handed it all over. The court offered a deal. Plead guilty? Testify against the others in exchange for a lighter sentence. I refused. It may have been my last moment of pride. March 17, 2021, the judge handed down the sentence. Two years in federal prison. A $150,000 VAZ fine, five years of supervised release.
As I was led out of the courtroom, I looked at the warden who had testified against us all. He only got six months of house arrest and probation. I didn’t feel hatred, only emptiness. The prison door slammed shut, but my story was just beginning. Prison started on March 17, 2021, but I didn’t break. FCI Bastrop is an hour outside of Austin.
Low-rise concrete buildings, barbed wire, watchtowers – this is where I would spend two years of my life, from March 2021 to April 2023. I will remember the first day forever. Standard intake procedure, uniform, familiarization with the rules, medical examination, placement in a cell. My neighbor was Eric, a former bank employee who had gotten three years for embezzlement.
He recognized me from the news. “So you’re the hacker from Dallas?” I didn’t correct him about the hacker part. Technically. We never hacked systems in the literal sense. We just convinced people to voluntarily give us access. But who cares? The result was the same. The first weeks were the hardest. The loss of freedom, the lack of privacy, the strict schedule.
I, who was used to controlling every aspect of my life, suddenly found myself in a place where I couldn’t even decide when to shower. On April 12, 2021, I received the first letter from my lawyer. The property that could be proven to be acquired with legal income was kept in my name. Everything else was confiscated. My penthouse, my Audi, my watch collection, most of my investments, all went to pay the fine and compensate the victims.
The weird thing is, I didn't feel much regret. Money and stuff had always been a byproduct. The main thing was control, power, a sense of superiority. And now it was all gone. I decided to use the time wisely. I enrolled in an educational program, started studying legal cybersecurity. Ethical hacking. Maybe after my release I could find a job as a consultant, helping companies protect themselves from people like me.
On September 2, 2021, I got access to a computer for the first time in the prison's educational center. Of course, there was no internet access, and a limited set of programs, but even that felt like a breath of fresh air. I could program, create simple systems, solve problems.
It reminded me of the times when I was just a freelancer before I crossed the line. The winter of 2021, 2022 was a period of reflection. I thought a lot about what brought me here. It wasn't a lack of money, I made enough freelancing, it wasn't a lack of opportunity, and with my skills I could find a job at any tech company. It was a thirst for power, control, thrills, and most importantly, a lack of moral restraint.
By the spring of 2022, I was already teaching the basics of programming to other inmates. The administration approved of my initiative. It helped to occupy my time, gave me useful skills. In prison, I found what was missing in my previous life - the opportunity to really help people. March 17, 2022, marked exactly one year of my imprisonment. I marked this date by writing a long reflection in my diary about who I was and who I was going to become.
One thing I knew for sure: There was no way back to my old life. In the fall of 2022, I received notice of the possibility of parole. My behavior, participation in educational programs, work with other inmates - all this was taken into account. The opportunity to get out a month early seemed like a gift.
On February 14, 2023, I had my parole hearing. The board asked a lot of questions. About remorse, about my plans for the future, about understanding the harm I had caused. I was as honest as I could be. Yes, I understood the harm. Yes, I understand that I defrauded real people, hurt them financially and emotionally. No, I can’t promise I’ll never cross the line again.
But I will do my best to follow the legal path. On April 3, 2023, I walked out of the gates of FCI Bastrop. I was wearing the same clothes I was wearing when I was arrested. Jeans, a T-shirt, sneakers. Everything else was in the past. Those first weeks of freedom were strange. The world had changed in two years, and I had changed even more. I rented a cheap apartment on the outskirts of Austin, found a temporary job as a consultant at a small IT company.
No penthouses, no sports cars. Just normal life. On parole, I couldn’t leave Texas, had to check in with my probation officer regularly, couldn’t interact with my former accomplices, and certainly no breaking the law. I was tempted sometimes, especially when I saw obvious vulnerabilities in the systems I was working on. I could have, but I stopped myself every time.
By early 2024, I was on my feet, working remotely for two cybersecurity companies. They knew about my past, and I was honest with them. Some companies value experience on the other side. On March 15, 2024, I did what I’d been thinking about for months. I logged into the dark web through a series of proxies and anonymizers and posted my story on a forum.
No names, no specific campaigns, no technical details that could hurt anyone. Just the story of the path that led me from freelancing to crime and prison. I didn’t expect much of a reaction. Maybe a few comments, a few jibes. But the post suddenly became popular. Dozens, then hundreds of replies. Questions, discussions, even thanks for my frankness.
Some called me a traitor for publishing the methods. Others admired the audacity of the operations. Still others thanked me for warning about the risks. I didn’t respond, it was my only post. I said everything I wanted. Today, as I write these lines, almost a year has passed since the publication. I still work in cybersecurity, helping companies protect themselves from social engineering attacks.
I continue to check in with my supervisor, although I still have three years left on probation. I can’t say that I fully repent, that would be hypocritical. In those years, I enjoyed what I did. I liked the power, the control, the thrill. But the price was too high. If you are reading this, I hope my story will teach you something. Maybe you, too, have this thirst for power, for control over others.
Maybe you also sometimes dream of crossing the line. I will not lecture you, everyone makes their own choice, just remember - every action has consequences, and one day you will have to answer for them - I am free, but the shadows of the past are still nearby.
