She Was Moving to London: A Romance Scam No One Could Stop

Long-Term Care Ombudsman Stories

A long-term care resident waits in her wheelchair near an exit, believing someone is coming for her — a quiet moment that reflects the unseen impact of romance scams in senior care.

I wanted to speak with a resident I hadn’t met before when I noticed her sitting near the common area in her wheelchair. She was dressed brightly, animated, expressive, and talking to everyone who passed by.

I introduced myself as the long-term care ombudsman and asked if she would mind speaking with me.

When I asked if she had any concerns, she mentioned lost laundry and meals she didn’t like. I asked if she wanted help advocating.

“No,” she said. “I don’t really need your help.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you for talking with me.”

Then she added, “I don’t need your help because I’m moving on Monday.”

“Where are you moving?” I asked.

“To London.”

“London, England?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you going to London?”

She looked at me patiently. “Do you know who Paul McCartney is?”

“From the Beatles?”

“Yes,” she said. “We’re getting married.”

At first, I assumed cognitive impairment. Then she explained that he was flying his private jet to New York to pick her up. From there, they would go to London.

I asked how they had met.

She said they met on TikTok, then moved to Telegram, then to personal text. She pulled out her phone. There were photos. Screenshots of messages. Long conversations that looked real.

Nearby, other residents in wheelchairs rolled their eyes. They had heard this story before.

She didn’t want advocacy. She believed she was moving to London.

On my way out, I asked the social worker if the resident was moving on Monday.

“She’s transferring to assisted living—unless Paul comes,” she quipped. “She doesn’t qualify for long-term Medicaid care.”

I asked whether the facility had intervened.

“There’s nothing we can do,” she said. “She sends her entire Social Security check to him.”

The resident didn’t want help so that I couldn’t advocate, but she was being scammed out of every dollar she had.

I spoke with my supervisor and was permitted to discuss her case anonymously, to see whether any options existed.

I started calling.

The state specialist on senior scams told me what everyone eventually did: nothing could be done unless she wanted help.

“The only thing that ends these cases,” he said, “is when the money runs out. Then the scammer disappears.”

I went back to the facility before her transfer to complete a discharge interview.

She brought him up immediately.

“I know no one believes me,” she said. “But I know it’s real.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Because I talked to his son,” she said. “He called me and welcomed me to the family.”

The technology was sophisticated enough to feel undeniable. She said he video-called her. He sang to her.

I asked why he needed her money.

“To make the house handicapped accessible for me,” she said.

I asked if I could speak with her brother. She agreed.

“We all know she’s being scammed,” he told me. “I’m paying her bills because she gives all her money to the scammer. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

I called the police. There was nothing they could do unless she wanted to report a crime.

The FBI. Nothing unless the loss exceeded a million dollars.

The bank. Nothing unless she filed.

Adult Protective Services. Nothing unless she asked for protection.

It was the most frustrating case I handled as an ombudsman.

She was being manipulated. Victimized.

And yet she was a cognitively intact adult, able to articulate her choices, understand them as she defined them, and refuse help.

She believed she was in love.

To protect resident privacy, identifying details in this story have been changed. The situations described reflect real issues encountered in long-term care.