Following increased cases of theft of Government subsidized fertilizer from the National Cereals and Produce Board (NCPB) depots by rogues who then sneak it out of the country, the DCI Operations Support Unit (OSU) deployed to curb the vice have successfully intercepted and recovered 739 bags of assorted brands of the fertilizer and arrested three suspects. Ali Abdi Fatah, Abdi Jabar Hussein & Bonface Ouma Awili were arrested at Baraka shop cereal store within Matisi market along the Kitale-Endebess road, in the operation that saw the fertilizer valued at Sh1,847,500 seized while being prepared for transit to a neighboring country.
The assorted brands included 424 bags of Falcon CAN, 43 bags of Tupande, 98 bags of Mavuno, 71 bags of KEL Green NPK (50 kgs each), 20 bags of NPSB-OCP, four bags of DAP-OCP, 26 bags of FOMI OTESHA, 34 bags of Simba Urea, 16 bags of FALCON Ammonia Sulphate and one bag of NAFAKA Plus weighing 50kg. The detectives also recovered delivery notes from NCPB Kitale, Malaba, Moi’s Bridge, Isiolo and Maua NCPB depots, whose authentication is underway.
The scene has been processed by Crime Scene Investigators and all exhibits secured, as the three suspects await arraignment.
In a shocking turn of events, a 30-year-old woman from Kitale found herself behind bars after orchestrating a scam that preyed on unsuspecting members of the public. Noline Awuor Odika, also known as Inspector Jane Atieno, was apprehended in a joint operation carried out by crime researchers and operations detectives in the Maridadi area of Kwanza, Trans Nzoia county.
Odika’s partner in crime, her ex-GSU husband Keith Wanyama Yamame, managed to evade arrest, fleeing the scene and leaving behind a trail of questions. The couple employed a cunning strategy, utilizing 11 subscriber sim cards to communicate and receive money from their victims. In return, they promised to process police clearance certificates, charging a hefty fee of Sh3,000.
Forged Certificate of Good Conduct. Photo/DCI(X)
The certificates issued by the duo were nothing more than elaborate fakes, featuring either forged signatures or signatures pilfered from retired officials. The extent of their deceit came to light when law enforcement conducted a sting operation, leading to Odika’s arrest. Meanwhile, Wanyama, the elusive ex-cop, managed to escape, leaving behind his wife and a detained Subaru car.
Authorities are now intensifying efforts to apprehend Wanyama, with detectives diligently pursuing leads to bring him to justice. The Department of Criminal Investigation (DCI) has responded to this incident by deploying additional personnel to the Forensic Fingerprint Identification Bureau (FFID). This move aims to expedite the processing of police clearance applications, ultimately reducing the wait time and enhancing the bureau’s efficiency.
As the investigation unfolds, the con couple’s elaborate scheme serves as a stark reminder of the importance of vigilance in the face of potential scams. The public is urged to exercise caution and verify the authenticity of individuals claiming to offer official services to prevent falling victim to such deceptive practices.
In Kenya today, We are often taught not to trust anything/anyone online. This was the case in 2021/2022 when a notorious pyramid scheme resurfaced with a vengeance. They had evolved, becoming more sophisticated, elusive, and impervious to regulation. These schemes had lurked in the internet, ensnaring thousands of unsuspecting, young Kenyans with the allure of easy money. The name was Public Likes.
These scam had promised quick riches, but just like all pyramids, they had inevitably crumbled, leaving countless victims in financial ruin. It had posed as a website where users could earn money by merely clicking on ‘adverts.’
Public Likes had attracted new investors with promises of unusually high short-term returns. However, these returns hadn’t been from legitimate business activities. The website had presented itself as a “social media marketing” platform, claiming to connect advertisers with potential customers.
Users on this site had earned money simply by clicking on ads, in a scheme referred to as Paid-to-Click (PTC). They had been led to believe that advertisers had paid them for every click, known as Pay per Click (PPC). It had been a clever deception.
Photo/Courtesy
Public Likes hadn’t just been a Ponzi scheme; it had been part of a complex online fraud that had cost advertisers nearly Ksh 2 trillion annually in lost advertising revenue.
Jane had been among the earliest investors in this scheme, which had attracted approximately 2 million users in less than three months at its peak. Public Likes had even outperformed well-known websites like Twitter, Standard Digital, Wikipedia, and Sportspesa.com in popularity, according to Alexa, a California-based company that had tracked web traffic data.
Jane had had around Ksh 60,000 invested in the company when Safaricom had decided to suspend Public Likes’ Paybill. This move had come in response to numerous complaints from users who hadn’t been receiving their payments.
The company had insisted it hadn’t closed down, only temporarily pausing transactions while they had made changes. Meanwhile, Jane and others who had already recouped their investments had shrugged it off.
Latecomers like Peter, who had been attracted by the Ksh 20,000 Jane had been withdrawing weekly, had been left in suspense. If Public Likes had gone down, it had taken Peter’s hard-earned Ksh 4,500 with it. Both Jane and Peter had invested Ksh 4,500 to move past the first level, where users had had to wait three months and click on five ‘adverts’ every day to earn Ksh 10 for each click. Most people had quickly upgraded to the Business Basic level, where a one-time Ksh 4,500 subscription had allowed them to earn Ksh 7,500 per month.
Muniu Thoithi, head of forensics at PriceWaterhouseCoopers (PwC), had found this arrangement intriguing. He had stated that it had been peculiar for users to pay the PTC site to click on ads when they should have been paid for clicking on the links.
The Premium account subscription fee had been Ksh 14,000, allowing users to watch a maximum of 50 ads and earn Ksh 15,000 per month. At the highest level, Gold, users had paid a Ksh 90,000 subscription fee and had earned Ksh 30,000 monthly.
Despite knowing it had been a pyramid scheme, Jane had recouped her investments, while Peter had been left in limbo. The pyramid scheme had operated by receiving payments from new entrants like Peter and redistributing them to early users at the top, such as Jane.
When Peter had examined the list of advertisers on the website, he had noticed that most of them had been other PTC websites, which had raised questions about why these sites had paid for clicks. This had suggested that there had been little, if any, earnings from real advertisers.
Public Likes had started with genuine products, especially hotels, but they had mostly been international establishments. The hotels may have been duped into paying for viewers who hadn’t converted into customers, affecting Public Likes’ revenue.
According to Thoithi, PTC sites had struggled to attract advertisers willing to pay for clicks from users genuinely interested in the ads. Some PTC sites had even acted as affiliates to other PTC sites, redirecting clicks to the primary PTC site.
Peter had refrained from withdrawing his money, hoping it would accumulate, but the suspension of the Paybill number had dashed those hopes. Now, Public Likes had been tempting users like Peter with new earning options such as offer walls, videos, and a daily jackpot.
Public Likes had also insisted it hadn’t shut down its Paybill, temporarily suspending transactions to streamline operations. Safaricom had confirmed that they had met with the company’s representatives but couldn’t reveal their identities.
Public Likes might have also been linked to a global scam known as click fraud, which had robbed advertisers of about Ksh 1.7 trillion annually, according to ad verification company Adloox. Click fraud had involved repeatedly clicking on ads to generate revenue for the host site or drain revenue from advertisers.
In this type of fraud, a PTC site like Public Likes had been known as a click farm, where low-paid workers had been hired to click on paid advertising links.
While this online deception had continued to grow, fueled by high unemployment rates, increasing internet penetration, and a burgeoning mobile economy in Africa, it had been crucial for individuals to exercise caution. Falling victim to pyramid schemes had often reflected a lack of proper research, even when information had been readily available.
Despite numerous pyramid schemes collapsing and causing significant financial losses, people had continued to be lured into such ventures. The allure of quick and easy money had led individuals down a path of financial devastation, and this cycle had appeared far from ending.
As the Public Likes scheme had unraveled, another PTC, “Synergy Traffic,” had emerged, offering more attractive terms. Users had been able to withdraw a minimum of Ksh 2,500, and there had been no limits on daily clicks. Unlike Public Likes, Synergy Traffic had used Bitcoin for payments, making transactions difficult to trace.
While some like Jane may have considered joining another pyramid scheme, it had been essential to recognize the risks and pitfalls associated.
As we are all evolving to an internet- dependent Society, beware of online scams. They can ruin your life.
In a riveting twist of events, the serene Runda estate in Nairobi became the focal point of a recent high-stakes operation targeting gold scammers. The meticulously planned crackdown led to the arrest of three individuals – Fauzia Wanjiru (known as Issa), Shallo Fatma (alias Tett), and Jackson Ochieng. These arrests came as a result of a well-coordinated intelligence-driven operation, revealing a complex web of deceit with ties to Rift-Valley Senator Allan Chesang.
Trans Nzoia Senator Allan Chesang. Photo: Instagram(Allan Chesang)
The arrest of these three individuals unfolded at Momesa Vale House number 199 in Runda. This luxurious neighborhood, often associated with the wealthy and influential, has been cast into the spotlight due to its unexpected connection to a daring gold scam.
The operation was set into motion after investigators received a tip-off regarding the involvement of the gold scammers in a sinister plot targeting a South African national. The scammers aimed to defraud their victim of a substantial sum of money. The victim was initially directed to Kilimani, where they believed a lucrative deal was about to be sealed. Unbeknownst to the scammers, law enforcement officers had already laid an ambush in close proximity to Momesa Vale. When the moment was right, they made their move, apprehending the suspects and putting a halt to their elaborate scheme.
A meticulous search of the Momesa Vale residence uncovered a trove of evidence that will play a pivotal role in the ongoing investigation. Among the confiscated items were counterfeit US dollars, a gold induction melting machine, an export permit for minerals, and samples of minerals bearing the enigmatic names “TENG GERM LTD” and “KRA stickers.” These findings serve as critical pieces of evidence that could unravel the intricate nature of the gold scam and bring its perpetrators to justice.
As of now, the suspects find themselves in custody at Kilimani police station, awaiting the legal proceedings that will determine their fate. This arrest is not merely an isolated incident but rather a chapter in an ongoing effort to crack down on fraudulent gold schemes that prey on unsuspecting victims. The involvement of Allan Chesang adds a layer of complexity to the unfolding story, leaving many questions yet to be answered.
As the investigation continues, we anticipate further revelations about the web of fraud of this recurring fake gold scam and its connections to high-profile figures. Stay tuned for updates as the narrative evolves, shedding light on the intricate world of gold scams in Kenya.
