The Double Life of ‘Alicia’: Man Scams Hundreds Online but Also Falls Victim” 3. “Man Behind ‘Alicia’: Scammer of Hundreds, Yet a Victim Himself

MAE SOT, Thailand—In late December, Guracha Belachew Bersha found himself at the forefront of a small but audacious rebellion against a nightmarish reality. After enduring 16 months of enslavement in a shadowy criminal enterprise, he and other victims took a stand against their captors.

This insidious operation, driven primarily by Chinese gangs, traffics individuals from around the globe to remote areas of Southeast Asia, forcing them to engage in online scams known as "pig butchering." This term refers to the method used by scammers to build trust with their victims before ultimately defrauding them, akin to fattening a pig before slaughter.

Billy, as Guracha is known, was trapped in a criminal enclave in Myanmar, where he was coerced into adopting a fake online persona—an affluent Singaporean woman named Alicia. He was forced to memorize a detailed manual on how to seduce unsuspecting men online, manipulating them into investing in fraudulent schemes. The psychological toll of this deception weighed heavily on him, especially as he confronted the real victims of his actions.

During the uprising, Billy and fellow captives orchestrated a strike against their oppressors. The consequences were swift and brutal; he was handcuffed and left suspended by his wrists for nearly a week, subjected to relentless torture in a dark bathroom stall. In a cruel twist of fate, his captors demanded a ransom of $7,000 for his release, a sum that his family ultimately had to pay to secure his freedom.

Speaking from a safe house in Thailand, Billy recounted his harrowing ordeal, revealing the physical scars and emotional trauma he carries. Despite the brutality he endured, his memories of the victims he scammed haunt him. He recalled a Pakistani man, a devoted husband and father, who became infatuated with the character Billy portrayed online. The man’s desperate love letters turned to despair when Billy ceased communication, leading him to send a harrowing video of himself disfiguring his own face with acid—a moment that Billy asserts he will never forget.

The phenomenon of “forced criminality” is alarmingly pervasive, with the United Nations estimating that hundreds of thousands of individuals like Billy have been trafficked to regions like Myanmar and Cambodia. These individuals are coerced into committing crimes against their will, as traffickers exploit their vulnerabilities and force them into lives of deception and exploitation. The trafficking network spans continents, affecting people from diverse backgrounds across Latin America, Africa, Europe, Asia, and even the United States.

At the heart of this disturbing trend lies a lawless corridor in Myanmar’s eastern region, a sprawling 3,000-mile stretch controlled by military-affiliated warlords and rebel factions. For decades, these factions have engaged in various forms of trafficking, including drugs and weapons. In recent years, they have pivoted to online scams, capitalizing on the anonymity of the internet and the growing demand for cyber fraud during the COVID-19 pandemic, which saw a surge in such activities.

The infrastructure for these scams has expanded rapidly. Nonprofits monitoring the area have identified numerous buildings serving as scam dens, often disguised as legitimate businesses. Some operations are integrated into towns with real economic activity, while others are entirely purpose-built for illegal activities. Inside these centers, scammers are organized into a hierarchical structure, where initial screening teams cast a wide net, engaging with potential victims before handing them off to teams focused on building relationships and ultimately extracting money from them.

The daily routine for these captives involves long hours at desks, manning laptops and phones filled with fabricated user profiles. Failure to meet daily targets often results in harsh punishment, ranging from physical beatings to psychological torture. Although they are constantly connected to the online world, many captives, including Billy, live in fear of detection. Even as he communicated with his family using a monitored phone, he dared not reveal the grim reality of his situation.

The Myanmar military acknowledges the presence of criminal activity along its borders but attributes much of the chaos to rebel groups, denying responsibility for the flourishing scam industry. However, outside observers, including think tanks like the U.S. Institute of Peace, have raised concerns about the military junta’s complicity, suggesting that some scam compounds are being operated under its protection.

Mae Sot, a rustic Thai town bordering Myanmar, serves as a critical gateway into this crime-riddled region. Despite the presence of police and military checkpoints, traffickers routinely manage to slip victims into the town, which has become a hub for those seeking refuge or opportunity. Here, crime-friendly hotels and taxi services facilitate the transportation of trafficking victims into the depths of Myanmar's underbelly.

Thailand's government claims to cooperate with neighboring nations to combat human trafficking and related crimes, emphasizing efforts to identify and protect victims. However, the visibility of operations like KK Park—a notorious compound visible from the main road—raises questions about the effectiveness of these measures. Anti-trafficking advocates like Amy Miller emphasize that such facilities operate in plain sight, undermining claims of active enforcement against these criminal enterprises.

The shocking narratives of individuals like Billy reveal the dark underbelly of a burgeoning criminal industry, one that not only exploits the vulnerable but also leaves lasting scars on the lives of both perpetrators and victims. As these operations continue to expand, the call for global awareness and action against human trafficking and forced criminality grows ever more urgent.