Fighting fraud with empathy, not just alerts

This article is for financial crime professionals interested in the human side of fraud — and why empathy might be our most overlooked detection tool.

Key takeaways

• Insider fraud can be fuelled by problems like addiction and a lack of support.
• Systemic failures and lack of empathy can allow fraud risk to escalate unnoticed.
• Behavioural red flags may be spotted long before a financial loss occurs.
• Listening, asking questions, and checking in may be as effective as any alert.
• We Fight Fraud explains how real human stories can shape our response.

Our greatest weapon against insider fraud could be empathy. A powerful testimony at a recent industry event made that clear.

“I was 37 weeks pregnant when I was given my prison sentence,” Jodie Gayet told a rapt audience on a sun-drenched Manchester rooftop. “I came out three weeks later and gave birth four days after that.”

That was part of just one story from Jodie’s criminal past. Her gambling addiction began at 18. It led to fraud, prison and a suicide attempt.

This was unexpectedly personal for We Fight Fraud’s “Midsummer Crime and Wine” evening. Industry events like these typically focus on process and upcoming regulations. But We Fight Fraud have a uniquely human way of bringing financial crime to life. As I listened to Jodie’s story, I realised fraud’s human cost extends beyond victims. It takes a toll on perpetrators too.

Funding the habit

The audience of fraud professionals heard how Jodie won £33,000 as an 18-year-old. The fluke win convinced her it was easy. She bought a house, fancy furnishings, and gambled more. Then she lost £25,000 in two hours.

She found work at a building society. Soon she was taking from a dormant account to fund her habit. Perhaps not stealing but borrowing. Because in Jodie’s mind, the losses were surely temporary.

“I didn’t really mask it,” she said, sure she would pay the money back from her winnings. “I just signed the paperwork and walked out with the money.” The process was alarmingly simple: insert passbook, print, withdraw, leave.

She was 20, with an abusive partner and a baby due when the police turned up at her door. The dormant account belonged to a man with Alzheimer’s. She didn’t know that, or that she had taken £20,000 from it. She was charged with theft and sentenced to six weeks. She was released after three, in time to give birth.

Bailed out

“So that was one criminal activity I committed,” she said. “I mean, there’s more.” The remarkable thing about Jodie is how she so clearly takes responsibility for her actions. But, listening to her, I hear how the system let her down. She’d been told prison would mean rehabilitation. Instead, she was handed a leaflet and shut in a cell for 23 hours a day, too pregnant for anything else. Except weekly bingo, unbelievably.

Her son was a distraction for a while, but she was still looking for money to gamble again.

She began selling fraudulent festival tickets. She didn’t have the tickets, but she planned to buy them with her winnings. But when there were no winnings, her victims went to the police.

Her parents repaid the money. She got 180 hours community service and a course of cognitive behavioural therapy. That didn’t help. She offended again. Her parents bailed her out again. But this time she went back to prison. Now a mother of two, she served six months of a one-year sentence.

This is when Jodie turned things around. “I think the worst thing my parents could have done was bail me out, because then I knew if I did it again, they’d bail me out again,” she said. “I needed to go to prison. Before I went to prison, I tried to take my own life. What kind of mother tries to take their own life when they’ve got two children to leave behind?”

In my head, I often think of financial criminals as a crafty, almost cocky, bunch who feel smarter than the system they are gaming. But Jodie gave me an entirely different perspective. For many of the criminals we’re trying to stop, they are just playing the hand that life dealt them.

From offender to advocate

Today, Jodie works alongside criminologist Dr Nicola Harding at We Fight Fraud. What makes WFF so unique is how they use real evidence — such as victim and criminal accounts — alongside academic research to understand the reality of financial crime.

“I don’t want to be that person, so I got the help I needed,” Jodie said. “I’m not recovered. I still have relapses. But I know my triggers now. And I wouldn’t steal to fund it.”

Nicola called it a failure of systems and support. There were so many points where intervention might have helped. Even just asking the question: is everything ok? “Check in on your youngers,” Jodie said. “Have weekly meetings. Ask how people are.” Gambling addiction is often hidden. But insider fraud rarely comes out of nowhere. Better support systems, regular check-ins and access to behavioural data might pick up vital warnings long before a crime is committed.

We talk a lot in this industry about red flags. But that evening on the rooftop made me wonder how often we spot them in the people we sit next to. Lucy Heavens, VP of Marketing at Salv, said: “It’s often the human intelligence that actually stops fraud.”

She’s right. We build systems to stop fraud. But behind the fraud are not faceless criminals but people. Often people who simply made a bad choice. Sometimes the key to fighting fraud is empathy, not technology.