Chapter 2: The Anatomy of a Scam

After hearing my cousin’s story, I started piecing together the whole scheme.

He told me every detail—how they talked, what they promised, the way the prices kept creeping up. I could almost see the whole scam unfolding in my mind.

Every step was connected. Each person played a role. The whole thing was a well-oiled con.

It was like a relay race, each person passing him off to the next, all smiles and handshakes, but underneath it all, they were wolves in sheep’s clothing. No doubt about it.

When my cousin got home, he couldn’t let it go. Next day, he went back to demand an explanation—and his money.

He said he barely slept that night, just kept replaying the whole thing in his head. I could picture him pacing around his tiny apartment.

But he was alone, and he’s not exactly a smooth talker. How was he supposed to outwit those people?

He’s the kind of guy who apologizes when someone bumps into him. No way he could take on a pack of scammers.

He even tried reporting them to the local police. Didn’t do a thing.

He showed me the little slip the officer gave him. “We’ll look into it,” they said. But I could tell by the look in their eyes—they’d seen this a hundred times before.

The cops came. The shop was spotless. Staff all polite and professional.

Not a hair out of place. The smell of shampoo and cheap cologne hit you as soon as you walked in. They even offered the officers coffee—like they were old friends.

Business as usual. Taxes paid. Price lists and warning signs all clearly posted.

You’d think it was a chain salon, not a den of crooks. Everything laminated, color-coded—even the tip jar sparkled. Unreal.

The manager put on his best innocent act: “The customer paid voluntarily, and our prices are all clearly marked.” Sure, buddy.

He even had the nerve to put a hand over his heart, like he was hurt anyone would question his honesty. I had to bite my tongue, just hearing about it.

They’d been through this before. The officers just shrugged.

The look on my cousin’s face—he knew he was on his own. The cops weren’t going to save him. Not this time.

“They didn’t break any laws. Son, be more careful next time. Chalk it up as a lesson.” That’s the line you get when they don’t want to deal with it.

I could feel my blood boiling, just listening to him repeat it. Some help.

Nothing changed. My cousin was heartbroken over his hard-earned cash, so he had no choice but to come to me.

He looked like he’d aged five years overnight. I put a hand on his shoulder. Promised I’d figure something out. Family’s family, after all.

I’m just an ordinary guy who works at the auto shop. But compared to him, I’ve got one thing—experience. I’m braver, and a hell of a lot more stubborn.

I’ve had to deal with my share of jerks and shysters over the years. Grease under my nails, sure. But I know how to read people. And I don’t scare easy.

Most importantly, I know how people work. That’s half the battle.

You spend enough time fixing cars, haggling with customers, you start to see through the BS pretty quick. Folks show you who they are, if you pay attention.

If you want to handle this kind of high-pressure scam, you can’t just play defense. You gotta go on the offensive—make them sweat, turn their own tricks back on them. That’s the only way they’ll back down.

The only way is to be even more relentless than they are.

You have to out-stubborn the stubborn. Out-bluff the bluffers. Otherwise, they’ll eat you alive.

He tried to joke, but his voice cracked. I pictured us at that old steakhouse on Main, the one with the neon cow in the window. It was a promise, and a plea.

My cousin looked miserable. Scared I’d say no.

I saw the hope flicker in his eyes when I didn’t hesitate. He needed a win. Even a small one.

I agreed, told him to walk me through everything that happened. Every little detail.

I grabbed a notepad, told him not to leave anything out—no matter how small. Scammers always slip up somewhere. Always.

He couldn’t wait—wanted to go right away. Fired up, ready to fight.

He was halfway to the door before I stopped him. His fists were clenched. But I could see the nerves under the surface.

I told him, “No need to go yet. Go home and wait for my call.”

He looked disappointed, but I needed time to plan. You don’t walk into a lion’s den without a strategy. Not if you want to come out alive.