Screenshot / Social Media, James ; Screenshot / YouTube, Vice News, Cropped by Resist the Mainstream

When James, 76, received a call from an estate agent in Atlanta, Georgia, offering to buy his timeshare, he initially saw it as a stroke of luck. The estate agent presented a compelling pitch, promising to secure a lucrative deal for their West Coast retreat.

A few days later, the agent returned with purportedly “good news”: a Mexican investor was willing to shell out upwards of $22,000 for the property James and his wife Nicki, 72, purchased for just under $9,000 in the mid-'90s.

The two found themselves embroiled in an elaborate and sophisticated scam allegedly tied to a notorious Mexican cartel within the next six months, The Daily Mail reports.

Similar schemes orchestrated by the Jalisco New Generation gang, who have been known for drug trafficking and occasionally cannibalizing their victims, have reportedly raked in hundreds of millions of dollars over the past decade.

These ruthless criminals have honed their craft with ruthless precision for exploiting the vulnerability of elderly American timeshare owners eager to divest their assets.

The involvement of organized crime in such complex scams marks an unexpected turn for Mexico's most dangerous gangsters, renowned primarily for their involvement in drug trafficking and occasional acts of violence.

Criminal enterprises now, as evident in James' ordeal, demand not only brute force but also meticulous planning and administrative prowess.

The scam that ensnared James involved a web of deceit, with fake Mexican intelligence agents, fraudulent Bank of Mexico statements, and sham escrow companies scattered across the United States and even overseas. 

James was duped into parting ways with his entire life savings through a series of calculated maneuvers.

The ordeal began innocuously enough with a phone call in October 2022 from a man named Michael, purportedly representing a realtor named Worry Free Vacations in Atlanta.

Michael's smooth-talking demeanor and apparent expertise instilled confidence in James, who saw an opportunity to offload his timeshares.

James was persuaded by Michael's assurances, particularly when he learned that the buyer would cover transaction fees through an escrow company based in Manhattan.

James believed himself one step closer to closing the deal with each payment. The involvement of purported Mexican officials, threats of extradition, and mounting fees only served to heighten the sense of urgency and confusion. He would soon invest $32,000. 

The sudden disappearance of the Atlanta estate agency's website and the discovery that the supposed escrow company in Manhattan did not exist are what led to James' eventual realization of the extent of the deception.

James had ultimately wired nearly $1 million to accounts controlled by the scammers, leaving him financially devastated and emotionally shattered. The aftermath of the scam not only cost him his life savings but also strained his relationship with his wife, who had voiced skepticism from the outset.

“It was very elaborate,” James said. “That's why I was sucked in. I just thought there were too many players involved for it to be a scam.”

“My wife said from the start that it didn't sound right,” he added. “Obviously, I should have listened to her.”

Their harrowing ordeal sheds light on the insidious nature of timeshare fraud, which has proliferated in recent years, fueled by the burgeoning popularity of the timeshare industry.

Despite concerted efforts by law enforcement agencies to combat such scams, victims like James and Nicki find themselves grappling with the devastating consequences of their misplaced trust.

“I had one woman contact me who said her mother had lost her savings to one of these scams,” Mike Finn, founder of Finn Law Group in St. Petersburg, Florida, who has represented thousands of people facing an array of timeshare frauds told The Mail.

“When I asked her how much that was, she said $1.2million. They were only offering $300,000 for the timeshare,” he added.