€100k theft from elderly mum quashed: Court of Appeal frees Żejtun son in bombshell ruling

Man who emptied 82-year-old mother’s life-savings walks free after Court of Appeal quashes 18-month jail term

In a decision that has sent shock-waves through tight-knit Maltese neighbourhoods, the Court of Criminal Appeal has overturned the conviction of a 56-year-old man from Żejtun who siphoned more than €100,000 from his widowed mother’s BOV account over three years. The court ruled that the original trial had “failed to prove fraudulent intent beyond reasonable doubt”, effectively wiping the slate clean for a case that had become a cautionary tale in parish-hall gossip up and down the islands.

The saga began in 2019, when Maria Vella, then 82, walked into her local branch in Marsa to ask why her direct-debit for the Lidl utility bill had bounced. A stunned clerk discovered her savings account, once flush with proceeds from her late husband’s pension and the sale of a Gozitan olive grove, had been bled dry. Bank statements showed 247 cash withdrawals and 31 online transfers—all authorised by her son, who held power-of-attorney after his father’s death. Prosecutors argued the transfers were never repaid and amounted to “cold-blooded exploitation of filial trust”. A 2023 magistrate agreed, sentencing the son to 18 months in prison and ordering €72,000 in restitution.

But in a 32-page judgment delivered last Thursday, Mr Justice Lawrence Mintoff sided with the defence claim that the transfers were “gifts freely given”, citing WhatsApp messages in which the mother once texted “ħa nagħtik il-flus kollha, int biss fadal tiegħi” (I’ll give you all the money, you’re all I have left). The court noted that Maltese families often blur the line between support and misappropriation, especially when children become de-facto carers. “The criminal threshold is high, and suspicion—even strong suspicion—is not enough,” the judge wrote.

Outside the courtroom, the verdict sparked visceral reactions. In Żejtun’s main square, elderly men playing briscola slammed cards on the table. “Qatt ma rajt!” (Never seen anything like it!), exclaimed 79-year-old Ġużeppi Briffa. “If my son lifted €20 from my wallet I’d clip his ear. A hundred grand? That’s not a gift, that’s daylight robbery in a cassock.”

The case taps into a raw Maltese nerve. Census data show 29% of Maltese seniors still live with adult children, a rate almost triple the EU average. While lauded as a symbol of Mediterranean solidarity, the arrangement can mask financial abuse. The Commission for the Rights of Older Persons has recorded a 40% spike in suspected elder-fraud reports since 2020, though only a handful reach court. “We love the idea of ‘familja qrib’, but love should never be an excuse for larceny,” Commissioner Helen Dalli told Hot Malta.

Local NGOs fear the ruling may embolden abusers. “Families will now think twice before reporting,” warned Marica Micallef from the Malta Dementia Society. “If prosecutors can’t win when €100k vanishes, what hope for subtler cases—like pressure to sign over property?” Meanwhile, the Żejtun parish priest has announced a special Mass for the “forgotten elderly” next Sunday, urging congregations to revive the old village custom of ħbieb tal-anzjan—neighbourly check-ins.

Bankers are also scrambling. BOV issued a terse statement reminding customers that power-of-attorney holders must act “in the donor’s best interest”, but insiders admit current safeguards are toothless. One senior manager, speaking off the record, confessed that staff training “barely touches on undue influence within families”. A new internal protocol—flagging large cash withdrawals by attorneys over 60—is expected to roll out by August.

For Maria Vella, now 87 and living with a niece in Tarxien, the legal victory for her son offers little comfort. Neighbours say she spends afternoons on the balcony, rosary in hand, staring toward the street where her son once parked his Peugeot to pick her up for Sunday lunch. The car hasn’t been seen since the charges were filed. “Mhux ser nirritorna lura,” she murmured to Hot Malta through a wrought-iron gate. “I won’t go backwards, but where else is there to go?”

As the sun sets over the honey-coloured limestone of Żejtun, the verdict reverberates beyond one family. It is a stark reminder that Malta’s most cherished value—family first—can cut both ways. In a nation where blood is supposed to be thicker than the azure water lapping the quays, the line between care and coercion is blurrier than ever.