The “Spanish. Prisoner” Swindle

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 672, 25 May 1929, Page 18

The “Spanish. Prisoner” Swindle

If You Receive a Heartrending Letter From a Spaniard Who Offers You Untold Wealth in Exchange For a Few Pounds Be Wary !

ROBABLY the hardiest prisoner in the world ! Imj l lives in Spain, but in* stead of languishing in saol ’ where he should be, he probably lives in a magnificent home in Madrid. “The Spanish Prisoner” is not unknown in New Zealand. His epistolary efforts have found response in practically every part of the globe. “The Spanish Prisoner” swindle has been flourishing for years and the trickster have been so active of recent months that a broadcast warning was issued to the British public. \ special commissioner of “Pearson’s Weekly” has been yivestigating this evergreen swindle. He writes: The crooks who operate the Spanish Prisoner swindle rarely approach Londoners. They usually find their dupes In the provinces. A Chelmsford farmer recently brought me a letter which had been sent to him from a man calling himself “Abelardo Ramirez/* of Barcelona. He’d never heard from the man before. I glanced through the letter and immediately recognised the Spanish Prisoner swindle, and I prevailed upon the farmer to allow me to reply. In order to give the public an insight into the methods of these tricksters, I propose to give, briefly, the correspondence between the Barcelona crooks and myself. His Dearest Daughter The first letter, to the farmer, was hand-written and had, it said, been smuggled out of the gaol in which Ramirez was imprisoned “for a noble and just cause.” In brief, he asked my Chelmsford friend to protect his only daughter, Mary, who is 16 years of age *yid at present in a boarding college In Spain. On his promising to become the guardian of his “dearest daughter,” he proposes to reveal some secret, which one gathers has something to do with “the sum of •£ 42,000 of my property which amount I have deposited in two English Banks of England only known by me.” In conclusion, Ramirez issues the warning that it is not convenient for him to receive the reply in gaol. It should be sent to an address given. One is liable to be “touched” on reading: “As my health state is not much well I beg you a soon reply to act in consequence, and please keep the best secret of all that I shall communicate to you.” That is the bait at which the dupe is expected to bite. I replied offering his daughter a good home, and saying that I should like to learn his secret. The reply came a few days later, and began: “My dear Friend, I had a true pleasure”—no doubt of that!—“on receiving your favour letter in my sorrowful and painful situation. Then by it I know that you are disposed to aid me and I have no doubt of your good

feelings and wishes to be a kindhearted protector of my poor and dearest daughter.” After mentioning “I feel my force are failing me.” he proceeded to give me some details about himself and his secret, which occupied just over seven pages of paper! It appears that he had become mixed up in some political trouble. He had gone to Holland with a large sum of money to purchase the necessary arms and equipment, but no sooner had he left the country than the plot was exposed. His wife then died —this touch of tragedy might melt the hardest heart!—and “mad for grief of such an irretrievable loss,” he reduced his capital to English banknotes. Ramirez, however, “thought it was a large imprudence to go again to Spain with such an important sum of money,” so he resolved to deposit £40,000 in two English banks. A remaining £2,000 he resolved “to conceal In a very artful secret of my trunk made in Paris under my directions.” Ramirez went on to emphasise that the £40,000 was deposited against two cheques of £20,000 each, payable to the bearer. The two cheques, together with the £2,000 in Bank of England notes, were then placed in the secret recess in his trunk. Ramirez returned to Spain and was promptly arrested, tried, and flung into gaol; and all his wealth was confiscated to pay for the cost of the trial. Ramirez explained “the painful future of my dear daughter” to the chaplain of the gaol, who offered to help. The stage now being set, we see how the dupe comes in. In a few days the property of the Spanish prisoner, including the trunk in which is hidden the £40,000 in cheques and the £2,000 in banknotes, will be sold by auction to pay for the cost of the trial. Ramirez has no money at all; the chaplain is a poor man and, in any case, he dare not be suspected of political intrigues. So Ramirez suggests that you pay the necessary sum to obtain possession of his property. His sole thought, apparently, is the fear that he may die leaving his poor daughter

destitute. But if you will send the necessary cash (he doesn’t mention the amount) he promises to give you a-quarter of the £40,000, provided you will look after Mary. Before I had replied, I received another letter In which Ramirez gave me details about receiving the trunk and where I should find the hidden hoard. He concluded his letter by begging me “to send the amount to pay the process expenses so soon as I send to you the Notification, then I am fearful that if we delay the payment . . . the purchasers on removing the trunk can find the secret and then all will be lost for my poor daughter. . . The next letter, following swiftly upon the others, told a different tale. On notepaper with the name of Salvador V. Perales, chaplain of the prison, neatly printed in an upper corner, came news that “Last.night at eight o’clock the Director of the gaol called me, saying that Mr. Abelardo Ramirez (yours and mine good friend) was very ill . . . and at eleven o’clock he passed to a better life.” Having waded through several pages of this “sob-stuff,” I came to the facts. The chaplain had heard that I had promised to look after Mary and send the sum necessary to buy the “late” Ramirez’s property. I replied to the effect that at the moment I was in financial difficulties myself. In any case, I should like to know the sum of money required. Almost by return of post came another letter from the chaplain, together with an official-looking document bearing the Government stamp and written in flowing Spanish. It included a list of the articles to be sold to pay for the cost of Ramirez’s trial. Second in the list was “1 travelling trunk.” Perales, in his letter, informed me that if I would send £ll7, it would be sufficient to purchase the property! That, briefly, is the Spanish Prisoner swindle. Needless to state, Don Salvador V. Perales did not have the satisfaction of handling my £ll7, and that “good Christian and noble gentleman,” Abelardo Ramirez, will, i trust, have to die a good many times before he swindles readers of this article.