|
By Sherryl Anne G. Quito, Senior Researcher,
Honey Madrilejos-Reyes, Senior Reporter and Meryl Mae S.
Marcon, Researcher
First of three parts
It was in October 2002 when Martha’s (not her
real name) postdated checks from the Maria Theresa Santos Trading (MTST)
began to bounce. At the same time her agony began. She was so
devastated that she even thought of taking her own life.
“Last December, pumasok sa isip kong
magpakamatay. Magpa-Pasko na kasi, pero wala pang matinong balita
tungkol sa pera namin,” Martha recalls. “Pero na-realize ko rin
na walang magandang mangyayari kung magpapakamatay ako. Kawawa naman
ang mga anak ko.”
Martha is reeling from the shock of the pyramid
scheme. She was among the many police and military officials, agents
and civilians victimized by MTST.
Martha worked at a prominent information
technology firm in Makati until she decided to take early
retirement. At first she wanted to use her retirement pension to
start her own business, but she decided on an easier and more
lucrative way of earning money—through MTST—which offered a
monthly interest of 15 percent with a minimum amount of P50,000.
Martha was made to believe that the contract could be renewed for
six months and that the monthly yields would continue as long as she
remained an investor in MTST.
Buoyed by the monthly benefits from her
investment, Martha renewed her contract with MTST in September 2002.
Her investment totaled P620,000.
A single parent, Martha is mother to three young
girls, two of whom are of school age and the youngest, a baby.
Because of her financial predicament, Martha
made her second child quit school; she could no longer afford to
send two children to school.
“Masakit man sa akin pero kailangan kong gawin.
May isip na’yung panganay ko. Hindi papayag’ yun na patigilin ko
siya,” Martha says tearfully.
The most painful part of Martha’s agony,
however, is her continued search for something to feed her children.
“I can postpone their education, but not starvation,” she says.
Martha took quite a while before she accepted
the fate that had befallen her. She still hopes she can recover her
investments. She says she has to go on with life not only for
herself, but most especially for her children, who rely on her for
survival.
“It’s hard but I have to move on. I have to
think of my children and my responsibilities as their mother,”
says Martha.
To some extent, Martha’s experience
encapsulates the general sentiments of thousands who were cheated by
these fraudulent firms.
In recent months, massive swindling and
large-scale estafa involving Ponzi and pyramid schemes have
victimized housewives, employees, retirees, teachers, businessmen
and even high-ranking military police officers, with little
opportunity for investment of capital. Most of the victims invested
their life savings or money they earned working abroad in several
get-rich-quick schemes in the hopes of getting extraordinarily high
profits within a short time. They were lured into making
deposits—which, according to authorities, may have gone up to P120
billion.
It is understandable how ordinary people like
regular employees, low-wage income earners and overseas Filipino
workers were easily cajoled into parting with their hard-earned
money. These get-rich-quick deals are too good to be true, but
scores of individuals and groups fell for the scheme.
On the other hand, it is hard to understand how
supposedly hardheaded businessmen could have been guiled into
parting with their millions. They who should know how hard it is to
make money fell prey to the manipulation of these lending firms.
The lure of mammon
Pyramiding, Ponzi scheme, chain distributor plan
or whatever you want to call it, it’s all one and the same—these
are all pseudo-investment firms that take advantage of an
individual’s desire to get rich quick.
Investment—that’s their catchphrase.
Investors, they say, will be flush with cash. It’s a
“no-sweat” way of doubling their money in a short time. Stingy
banks, they say, are a thing of the past. People are now turning to
lending firms—whatever that means—to earn big bucks.
For the past years, companies that resort to
pyramid schemes have proliferated in the country— swindling it has
become a whole industry. Most of them take the form of “lending”
or “investment” firms; others use the ploy of multilevel
marketing. This investment scam created a stir because of its
lucrativeness. It was a huge success—many people were lured to
invest because of the expected returns that the scheme promised.
Pyramiding was so successful that it preyed not only on residents of
Metro Manila but on residents of nearby and faraway provinces.
Pseudo-investment firms feel they would be able to lure more
investors in the provinces, where information is less available
about dubious investment schemes.
The pyramid scheme is a fraudulent system of
making money based on recruiting an ever-increasing number of
“investors.” According to the Department of Trade and Industry,
a chain distributor plan or pyramid sales scheme persuades a person
to join by paying a fee and then giving the “right” to recruit
others into the scheme. The new recruit gets a commission primarily
by continuing the recruitment activity. The scheme may involve the
sale of a product or service, which, more often than not, is
overpriced or trifling.
Pyramid schemes may or may not involve the sale
of products or distributorships. The trend is to involve sales of
products or distributorships to simulate legitimacy. This is done
solely to sidestep the regulatory agencies, because the law
prohibits marketing practices where the potential for profit stems
primarily from recruiting other investors and not from the sale of
products. The bottom line, however, is that in all pyramid schemes,
selling a product itself is much less important than recruiting new
investors.
Pseudo-investment firms like Multitel, MTST and
MMG use one and the same schemes. These companies boast of sky-high
returns for a minimum investment of P10,000 to P50,000. Investors
are guaranteed a monthly interest of 4 percent to 15 percent, which
comes in the form of postdated checks representing the promised
interest and the principal investment. That means an annual interest
of 48 percent to 165 percent against 3 percent to 5 percent a year
from banks. A very tempting offer that the likes of Josie, a
homemaker, could not resist.
Puzzling secrets
Such was the case of Josie, a homemaker. She and
her husband were wooed into joining the group by a family friend who
guaranteed the stability and reliability of the company.
At first, Josie’s husband did not want to
invest, because he doubted the legality of Multitel’s operations.
But because of their friends’ persuasion and encouragement, the
couple put in an initial deposit of P100,000 in November 2001.
According to Josie, the 4 percent-interest checks kept coming in, so
she thought their investment was in good hands.
“Maski ako noong una doubtful din kung totoo
yung offer nila. Pero regular na dumadating ’yung cheke kaya
nag-deposit ulit ako. This time hindi ko sinabi sa asawa ko, kasi
alam kong hindi siya papayag,” Josie admits.
The truth was, Josie’s total investment was
P250,000—she added P150,000 in April 2002. Her checks stopped
coming in October 2002. Although she regrets not telling her husband
about the additional investment she has made, she is quick to say
she has her reasons.
“Meron akong anak na nagme-medicine. Iniipon
ko sana yung pera para pambayad ng tuition niya. Tapos ’yung
monthly interest yun naman yung pambayad ko sa renta ng dorm niya,”
she explains.
When news about the imminent collapse of
Multitel spread, Josie withdrew P100,000 from her account in
September 2002. Unfortunately, her counselor (as what Multitel
recruiters are called) was able to return only P50,000 of her total
investment.
When news of Multitel’s breakdown became
official, Josie felt the weight of her world on her shoulders. All
she could do was cry.
“Alam ko namang walang may gusto nitong
nangyari sa amin. Kaya lang nagui-guilty ako kasi hindi ko sinabi sa
asawa ko ang idinagdag kong P150,000. Siya ang nagpakahirap na
kitain ’yun. Hanggang ngayon hindi pa niya alam na nagdagdag ako.
Ang alam niya P100,000 lang ang investment namin. Sasabihin ko din
sa kanya pero hindi muna ngayon. Marami pang problema ngayon.”
On one hand, Josie feels lucky that at least she
was able to retrieve a portion of her investment.
“Iniisip ko na lang na masuwerte pa rin ako
kahit paano kasi merong naibalik sa akin kahit konti,” she says.
Deception times two
Some people never really learn.
Anita, a homemaker, almost deceived by the
pseudo-investment firm Glasgow Credit and Collection Services Inc.
in 2001, but was able to retrieve her investment in full. She
thought she had learned her lesson, but she had not.
Last year a friend invited her to invest in MTST.
Traumatized by her Glasgow experience, she asked about the MTST and
researched on its credibility. She even went to its head office at
Villamor Air Base to see for herself the legality of the company.
She was impressed when she saw police and military officers signing
up as investors.
“Labas-pasok sila, mga sundalo at pulis, kaya
malakas ang loob ko na maging imbestor na rin. Yun’ yung
nagpapaniwala sa akin na legal ang kompanya. Isa pa, nakaka-enganyo
yung 15 percent na offer nila,” Anita said.
Going by gut feel, Anita immediately deposited
P50,000 in July 2002. This she made without her husband’s
knowledge. Anita’s husband works as an engineer in Europe.
“Sa hirap ng buhay ngayon, ilalagay mo pa ba
sa bangko yung pera na napakababa ng interes? E meron namang
kompanyang willing na magbigay ng 15 percent na interes. Ang masama
lang nun e hindi pala legal yung kompanya,” Anita explained.
After getting the monthly benefits of her
investment from the 15-percent interest, Anita added another
P105,000 to her account. The money came from the sale of her son’s
educational plan. She and her husband were planning to save the
money for his college education. Anita is now at a loss how, when
and what she would tell her husband.
“Inaamin ko namang kasalanan ko. Natatakot
lang ako sa asawa ko kasi nagtitiis siyang magtrabaho sa ibang bansa
para sa amin tapos’ yung pinaghirapan niya mapupunta sa wala,”
she says.
To make matters worse, her checks began to
bounce in October 2002, only three months after her first
investment.
Anita trembled with fear on hearing about the
incident.
“Ipinagdarasal ko na lang na kahit ’yung
principal na lang yung mabawi ko kaya lang hanggang ngayon wala pa
ring nangyayari,” she said.
Part 2
| Conclusion
|
