CHRISTOPHER STEVENS: Scummy thief is given star standing
Confessions Of A Teenage Fraudster (BBC One)
Who do you trust more for advice on life insurance, a Scot or a Cockney? The correct answer, of course, is – never trust an insurance salesman.
All over the UK, though, we tend to feel more reassured by the Scottish accent. It’s something to do with the reputation folk have north of the border for being careful with their money. That’s why so many financial service companies have call centres in Glasgow or Edinburgh.
Professional thief Elliot Castro regarded his Aberdonian accent as his superpower. It still seems to be working well for him, because the three-part documentary Confessions Of A Teenage Fraudster gives him the easiest of rides – always accepting him at his own estimation as a working-class trickster who used his wits to help himself to a millionaire lifestyle.
Professional thief Elliot Castro (pictured) regarded his Aberdonian accent as his superpower. It still seems to be working well for him, because the three-part documentary Confessions Of A Teenage Fraudster gives him the easiest of rides
Christopher Stevens said: ‘Consisting mostly of interviews with Castro and a handful of ex-detectives who arrested him at one time or another, this programme would have been far stronger if we’d heard from anyone whose identity he stole’
In his teens during the 1990s, working as a phone salesman, Castro perfected a patter that coaxed buyers into disclosing all their bank details, including their passwords. Then he obtained credit cards in their names. When that scam faltered, he turned to chatting up men in Manchester’s gay bars and stealing their wallets. ‘If I found one,’ he said, ‘I was off-ski.’
Calling him a ‘fraudster’ gives him too much credit (something he was always expert in obtaining). He was just a slimy thief.
‘I find it difficult to feel sorry for the banks,’ he shrugs now, 20 years after turning his back on crime. ‘I knew what I was doing was wrong but I was of the mind that people got their money back and it didn’t really matter.’
All of us indirectly funded his sprees, of course, because the banks pass on the increased security costs. Toerags like Castro are robbing anyone who ever has a credit card, a loan or a savings account… in other words, everyone.
Far from being victimless, his crimes have the widest possible impact. As he grudgingly acknowledged, after more than two hours of revelling in his exploits, being targeted by a card fraudster can be deeply upsetting — even if the stolen money is eventually refunded.
In his teens during the 1990s, working as a phone salesman, Castro perfected a patter that coaxed buyers into disclosing all their bank details, including their passwords
Having your pocket picked can also be a distressing experience, one that leaves people bitter and mistrustful. ‘Certainly, I am regretful if I ever caused anyone any sort of personal stress with what I did,’ he claimed, sounding like he’d never lost one moment’s sleep over it.
Consisting mostly of interviews with Castro and a handful of ex-detectives who arrested him at one time or another, this programme would have been far stronger if we’d heard from anyone whose identity he stole.
Getting a bill for £10,000 you haven’t spent, or losing all your cards and cash on a night out, isn’t something anyone forgets in a hurry. There must be many stories about Elliot Castro that this documentary didn’t bother to discover. Instead, we had endless tales of designer shopping trips and champagne bar raves. Even scummy thieves can be celebrities these days.
