Inmates often have little to do besides coming up with new scams to play on unsuspecting friends, family members, and pen-pals. While I can’t cover all of these romance scams, I’ll provide enough information to help you identify if you’re being targeted. Some of you may not believe you’re being scammed—many inmates are that good at deception—until it’s too late and you’ve lost something valuable.
One common scam begins with a pen-pal relationship. I learned about this while working the first watch in a housing unit. The shift runs from 10:00 PM to 6:00 AM, and part of the job involves processing outgoing inmate mail. This means opening and scanning letters for codes or notes indicating criminal activity. During this process, I noticed one inmate was sending about ten identical letters each night to different women, only changing their names and addresses.
The letters followed a similar pattern. He would introduce himself, stating that he typically doesn’t write to strangers but felt compelled to respond to the woman’s letter in a pen-pal magazine. He would mention that he’s an inmate with no family or friends and then share his story of how he ended up in prison. The tales varied: sometimes, he claimed he fell in with the wrong crowd, other times that he was a drug addict who lost everything but had turned his life around in prison.
He would express a desire for a caring and honest pen-pal to help him through the tough times. To tug at the reader’s heartstrings, he’d include a poem, claiming it was written during a solitary moment in his cell, though it was usually copied from a magazine that publishes inmate submissions. He would end the letter by asking for stamps or money to continue corresponding, expressing understanding if she couldn’t help, and thanking her for the light she brought into his dark world.
Over several months, I noticed a pattern. During the first week of each month, he’d send out ten letters a day for five days. The volume would drop to one or two letters a night for the rest of the month, and then the cycle would repeat. The letters after the first week became more personalized, with the inmate tailoring his responses to reflect the woman’s interests, making her believe he genuinely cared about her.
If the woman had children, he’d share stories about his own difficult childhood or his desire to be a better father than his own had been. If she was religious, he would claim her letters inspired him to attend chapel services and ask for her guidance in understanding Bible passages. These manipulative tactics were aimed at building an emotional connection.
Eventually, the women would start sending money or packages. Some inmates would even ask for three-way phone calls or have women send money to other inmates. After gaining her trust, the inmate would send her a clean-cut photo of himself and ask for pictures of her and her family. He would compliment her appearance and express admiration for her family, claiming her photo gave him hope and inspired dreams of a better life after prison.
As the relationship progressed, he would send cards for special occasions, each supposedly handcrafted with a heartfelt message, though often made by another inmate in exchange for stamps. At this point, the woman is usually sending him money regularly, and the inmate begins asking for phone calls or visits, claiming a deep connection.
If the woman visited, he would act the perfect gentleman, listening attentively and making her feel special. After the visit, he’d write her a letter expressing his gratitude, saying she gave him hope and made him believe in a future together. He’d continue to nurture this fantasy of a life after prison, though the goal was always to exploit her for as long as possible.
I eventually had the chance to speak to this inmate about his scam. Surprisingly, he was willing to explain it in detail, as many inmates enjoy boasting about their schemes. He told me that for $20, inmates could buy a mailing list of women interested in corresponding with prisoners. He’d send out fifty letters in the first week of the month, usually receiving responses from two or three women within a week. From there, he’d maintain the correspondence, earning about $100 a month by making these women feel good about helping him.
The hardest part, he said, was getting the women to visit. Once they did, he knew he had them. His long-term plan was to secure help after his release. He shared a story about a woman who fell for him, picked him up after his parole, and let him live with her in an affluent neighborhood. Six months later, she came home to find her car, cash, credit cards, and jewelry gone—along with the inmate.
In my 25 years with the California Department of Corrections, I’ve seen only one relationship like this succeed. The couple married, had children, and the parolee stayed out of prison. However, 99.9% of the time, these relationships are scams. If you’re considering getting involved, remember—you’ve been warned.