Across the globe, the specter of impersonation and identity fraud is casting a long, troubling shadow. From the bustling streets of Pune to the solemn ceremonies of Llandudno and the urban sprawl of Jakarta, recent incidents have laid bare the cunning tactics of those who exploit trust and authority for personal gain. These cases, surfacing in November 2025, reveal a disturbing trend: scammers and impostors are growing bolder, more sophisticated, and increasingly willing to manipulate the trappings of officialdom to deceive, defraud, and even dishonor communities.
In Pune, India, a chilling example of this trend unfolded when a 62-year-old retired Life Insurance Corporation (LIC) officer fell prey to an elaborate cyber scam. According to reporting by The Times of India, the victim received a call in October from someone claiming to represent the “Data Protection Agency.” The caller alleged that her Aadhaar-linked mobile number had been implicated in illegal financial transactions. The conversation quickly escalated when another individual, posing as “Senior Police Officer George Mathew,” accused her of money laundering and warned that her bank accounts would soon be frozen.
To cement their authority, the fraudsters sent the terrified woman a forged arrest warrant via WhatsApp. The document wasn’t just a crude forgery—it bore the fake signature of India’s Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman and a counterfeit government seal. The scammers concocted a new twist: she was told she was under “digital arrest,” a fictitious status that allegedly prohibited her from leaving her home or contacting anyone until she completed a verification process with the Reserve Bank of India (RBI).
Gripped by fear and desperate to clear her name, the woman followed their instructions, transferring a staggering ₹99 lakh in multiple installments to various bank accounts. Within hours, the money was funneled through a web of accounts, vanishing without a trace. Only when she tried to contact the callers later—finding all numbers switched off—did she realize she had been conned. She immediately reported the crime to the Pune Cyber Police, who, as The Indian Express noted, have since traced the scam’s origins to a cyber gang operating from Thane near Mumbai.
Authorities have moved quickly, tracking linked bank accounts and phone numbers in hopes of apprehending the culprits. In the meantime, the Pune Cyber Police have issued a stark warning: no government agency, including the RBI or telecom authorities, will ever demand personal or financial details via WhatsApp, video calls, or text messages. The so-called “digital arrest” is, they emphasized, nothing more than a psychological ploy designed to instill fear and ensure compliance. “Citizens must remain vigilant and report suspicious calls or messages to the national cyber helpline 1930 or the official portal cybercrime.gov.in,” the advisory stated.
Cybersecurity experts warn that such impersonation-based scams are on the rise, especially targeting senior citizens who may be less attuned to digital deception. By invoking the authority of high-profile officials and fabricating official-looking documents, scammers can easily manipulate victims’ emotions and judgment. The Pune case is just one of many recent incidents where fraudsters have weaponized government symbols and narratives to create false emergencies, from tax violations to regulatory investigations.
But the problem is hardly confined to India. In North Jakarta, Indonesia, police recently apprehended Dandi Maulana, also known as Muhammad Yusuf Maulana or Dobleh, a 25-year-old serial fraudster who had impersonated a police officer on at least four occasions. According to Kompas, Maulana crafted fake police identification cards and even purchased an airsoft gun online to complete his disguise. His crimes spanned three incidents in the Penjaringan area and one in Pademangan, all within the jurisdiction of the North Jakarta Metro Police.
Maulana’s modus operandi was chillingly simple. He would stop unsuspecting victims—often online motorcycle taxi drivers—claiming to be a member of the Metro Jaya Police’s Narcotics Directorate. Under the pretense of pursuing a drug case, he would ask to be escorted to a particular location. Once there, he’d borrow the victim’s motorbike and cellphone, ostensibly to “catch the drug offender,” only to vanish with the stolen items. Investigators revealed that Maulana is a recidivist, with prior convictions for car fraud and violent motorcycle theft in West Jakarta.
North Jakarta Metro Police Chief Kombes Erick Frendriz confirmed, “The perpetrator has carried out his actions as a fake police officer four times in the jurisdiction of the North Jakarta Metro Police.” Maulana now faces charges under Article 378 and/or Article 372 of the Indonesian Criminal Code, which could result in up to five years in prison. His arrest, police say, is a reminder that even the symbols of law enforcement are not immune to exploitation by those seeking to deceive.
Meanwhile, in the United Kingdom, the solemnity of Remembrance Sunday in Llandudno, Conwy county, was marred by suspicions of impersonation at the highest levels. As reported by BBC News, hundreds gathered on November 10 to honor the nation’s war dead, but unease rippled through the crowd when a man appeared in full regalia as a rear admiral, adorned with the rare Distinguished Service Order (DSO) medal. The DSO, awarded for exceptional command and leadership during active operations, is a distinction few have received since 1979.
Serving and former service personnel quickly grew suspicious. Llandudno Town Council confirmed that no one of such rank was scheduled to participate. When challenged by the parade marshal, the man claimed he was representing the Lord Lieutenant’s office. With little time to verify, organizers allowed him to take part in the wreath-laying ceremony to preserve the dignity of the occasion. Greg Robbins, chair of the council’s civic sub-committee, explained, “The most important thing with Remembrance Sunday ceremonies is that they are suitably dignified, as this one was. This individual did not disrupt the ceremony, but we are keen to know who he was, and will be working with the Ministry of Defence on its investigation.”
The Ministry of Defence has since launched an inquiry, underscoring the seriousness of the offense. “Impersonating a Naval officer is insulting to anyone connected to the service and can be considered a criminal offence,” a spokesperson said. “Nothing should detract from the poignancy of Remembrance Sunday which can be a sombre time for members of the Royal Navy family and an opportunity for people in communities across the country to pay their respects to people who have or are serving their country.”
While the man did not disrupt the ceremony and left quietly after saluting the war memorial, the incident has sparked debate about the vulnerability of public rituals to exploitation and the need for heightened vigilance, even in the most sacrosanct settings.
Taken together, these cases from India, Indonesia, and the United Kingdom paint a sobering picture of a world where symbols of trust—whether government seals, police uniforms, or military medals—can be weaponized by those with criminal intent. The challenge for societies everywhere is not only to strengthen safeguards and raise public awareness, but also to ensure that the reverence for authority does not become a tool for manipulation. As investigations continue and communities grapple with the fallout, one lesson rings clear: in an age of increasing impersonation, skepticism and vigilance are more vital than ever.
