A few weeks ago, I complained to a friend about the state of dating apps, quipping that it’s easier to find scammers than good matches. I shared how I once knowingly entertained a scammer’s attempts to con me, turning the tables during a long call. By the end, the scammer—realising I would not fall for his con—gave up and dramatically declared he was “in love” with me.

That’s when my friend told me she had recently been scammed. But this wasn’t the kind of scam that ends with a frustrated scammer giving up or asking for money. What she described left me shocked and deeply disturbed.

It was one of those “digital arrest” scams that have become increasingly common. Scammers impersonate law enforcement officials, threaten their victims with fake legal charges, and coerce them into transferring money. 

My friend was accused of being implicated in a money-laundering case. It started with an automated message claiming that her SIM card would be blocked. The scammers, posing as cybercrime officials, accused her of laundering money for Jet Airways founder Naresh Goyal. They demanded a video call to “verify her identity.”

“They knew so much about me,” she said. “My name, my PAN card number, even my father’s name” It made her wonder if they really were officials. When she hesitated, they invoked legal charges under scary-sounding laws and warned her of immediate arrest. Under pressure, she complied with their demands.

She stayed on that call for over eight hours, terrified of what might happen if she didn’t comply. At one point, when she turned off her bedroom light to sleep, they told her to keep it on. Exhausted and scared, she cried herself to sleep, while the scammers watched her through her laptop’s camera. “What if they arrest me for something I didn’t do?” she told me later. Even weeks after the ordeal, she’s still haunted by the thought: What if they recorded me? What if they share it?

Sadly, her story isn’t unique.

In October, a 28-year-old woman in Ahmedabad was extorted out of Rs 5 lakh. Scammers posed as cybercrime officials and accused her of being involved in a narcotics case. To prove her innocence, they forced her to strip on camera and threatened her with legal action under the Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances Act if she refused.

She had been kept on the call for nearly 36 hours, terrified and manipulated. 

Despite filing a complaint, the police categorised the crime under extortion and cheating laws, completely ignoring the trauma and humiliation she endured.

And in September, a lawyer in Mumbai was accused of involvement in a money-laundering case by scammers pretending to be cyber police. They coerced her into checking into a hotel to avoid “public embarrassment” and electronically transferring Rs 50,000. Then, under the guise of conducting a “search for weapons and injury marks,” they forced her to strip on camera. Days later, she received her nude photographs from the scammers, used as blackmail material.

I started digging. Were there cases filed against scammers for forcing women to strip? When I asked lawyer friends, most said they hadn’t heard of this happening in digital arrest cases. A Supreme Court lawyer suggested the fear of shame might stop women from reporting such crimes. He may be right.

When my friend spoke to me about her experience, I could see how much it still bothered her. She didn’t lose any money, but what she lost was something harder to replace: her peace of mind, her trust, and her sense of safety. She kept telling me, “I feel so ashamed. I feel stupid for falling for it.”

Even if complaints are filed, the legal framework isn’t designed to address the gendered nature of these scams. In cases like these, the law might impose charges under Section 354 of the Indian Penal Code (IPC) for “outraging the modesty of a woman.” But let’s pause for a moment—what does that even mean? “Modesty” isn’t defined in the IPC, and the term feels outdated for the violations women experience in digital spaces.

Under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023, Section 74 prescribes punishment for such crimes with imprisonment of one to five years and a fine. But cases like my friend’s might never even be categorised as sexual harassment. Instead, they’re filed as extortion or cheating under the IT Act, completely bypassing the emotional and psychological harm inflicted on women.

This isn’t just about money. It’s about trust, safety, and mental health. Victims like my friend are left grappling with unanswered questions and a lingering sense of vulnerability.

These scams reminded me of a series of incidents in the United States which started in 1992 and lasted for a decade, where a conman impersonated police officers and convinced managers to strip-search employees under bizarre pretexts. Those cases left many victims with long-term trauma. (Netflix has a docuseries ‘Don’t Pick Up the Phone’ on the case)

In India, the lack of awareness and clear legal recourse means that these crimes often go unreported, and the scammers continue to prey on vulnerable women. What’s needed is not just stronger laws but a fundamental shift in how we view these cases.

We need to stop focusing solely on the monetary losses and start addressing the trauma caused. Women must feel empowered to report such crimes without fear of shame or judgment. Law enforcement needs to treat these violations with the seriousness they deserve, recognising them as assaults on bodily autonomy and dignity.

For now, though, women like my friend continue to carry the burden of these experiences—haunted by their memories, consumed by what-ifs, and let down by a system that doesn’t see their pain.

If you’re someone who has undergone the experiences described above, I would really like to hear from you. What has happened is not your fault. These scams persist because they are built on shame and silence. I promise you complete anonymity, a sympathetic ear, and no judgement. Write to me at [email protected]

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