Papal Blessing or Cruel Con? How Malta’s Elderly Are Losing Life Savings to Faith-Flavoured Scams

Watch: A pope, a dog, and a life’s savings – scam victims’ unbelievable tragedies
=================================================================================

Floriana pensioner Maria* thought she was answering a call from the Archbishop’s Curia. Instead, she handed €42,000 – her deceased husband’s ġemma tal-pensjoni – to a man who promised a papal blessing and a 300 % “miracle” return. Three weeks later the number was dead, the money gone, and Maria was sitting in the Sacra Infermeria chapel wondering how she would pay this month’s rent.

Her story is one of three jaw-dropping cases captured in a new Times of Malta mini-documentary that has been viewed 1.2 million times in 48 hours. Shot in Valletta’s side-streets, the film stitches together CCTV grabs, tearful testimony and the jaunty whistle of a scammer’s voice-note. Viewers watch an 83-year-old Gozitan widower kiss a photo of the dog he never received, while a Sliema father scrolls through Telegram messages promising him a €250,000 “COVID-relief grant” from none other than Pope Francis himself.

The common thread? Faith, FOMO and the Maltese obsession with *nies ta’ turija* – people who appear well-connected. “We are a small island; word of mouth is currency,” explains Dr Graziella Attard Previ, criminologist at the University of Malta. “Scammers weaponise that trust by impersonating priests, lawyers or even the *Kunsill li jħares il-Futbol*. Victims feel privileged to be ‘selected’.”

Local police figures show a 64 % spike in phishing and impersonation fraud since 2021, with average individual losses topping €28,000 – almost double the EU mean. Yet only one in five cases is reported, largely because of *ħajba* – the cultural shame of being labelled *ħelu b’żokom* (gullible). “My son still doesn’t know,” Maria whispers to the camera. “He thinks I paid for kitchen tiles.”

The documentary’s most chilling scene unfolds outside Mosta parish. A hidden camera captures a smartly dressed caller handing a pensioner a laminated “papal indulgence” in exchange for an envelope of €500 notes. The man’s accent? Pure Sliema English, sprinkled with Italianate blessings. “They study us,” says Inspector Sarah Pace, who heads the newly-formed Financial Crimes Awareness Section. “They know when harvest festivals end, when the *lottu* is drawn, when students get their *stipendju*. Timing is everything.”

Community fallout is tangible. In Żejtun, the parish priest now announces scam warnings after the *għasar* bell. Gozitan band clubs have started *“Skema Ħelsien”*, a WhatsApp helpline where pensioners can forward suspicious numbers for instant verification. Even the lotto kiosk at Malta International Airport displays a poster: *“Il-Papa ma jibgħatx SMS”*.

Yet the psychological bruises linger. Maria has removed the Sacred Heart picture that hung by her landline; the dog-less widower sleeps with the light on. “These crimes are more than financial,” says psychotherapist Dr Anna Maria Bellizzi. “Victims lose their *fiduċja* – the glue of Maltese society. Neighbours stop chatting; grandchildren are told not to answer the phone.”

What can be done? The police urge use of the free 119 hotline, while Bank of Valletta has rolled out a 24-hour “scam freeze” button inside its mobile app. But experts insist culture must shift. “We need to treat fraud victims like fire survivors – with solidarity, not sniggers,” argues Inspector Pace. “Share the story, not the shame.”

As the documentary closes, Maria walks past the bronze relief of Christ the Worker in Floriana. She pauses, then turns to the lens. “Perhaps someone recognises the voice,” she says, her rosary beads clicking. “Perhaps tonight another widow will hang up the phone.” The screen fades to black, but the *għana* soundtrack keeps playing – a reminder that on this island, every tragedy becomes a ballad, every warning a chorus still waiting to be sung.

\*Name changed to protect identity