I am a 71-year-old man from Hyderabad, and as long as I live, I will never forget the humiliation, the fear, the rage, and the suffocating pain that criminal Sandeep—calling himself “Alex”—forced upon me between 7 and 14 November 2025. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still hear that shameless parasite’s voice ringing in my ears, poisoning my thoughts, shaking the peace I once carried in my old age. For over seven days, that coward tortured me under what he called a “digital arrest,” and today, as I narrate this, I want him to hear every word, every drop of anger, every ounce of disgust I feel toward him. Sandeep, you are not a mastermind, not a criminal genius, not some feared scam king— you are a pathetic, spineless, heartless creature who hides behind a fake CBI badge because you don’t have the courage to face the world with your real face. You targeted me because I am old, because you thought a 71-year-old man would crumble easily under fear, because you believed that age makes people weak and helpless. And yes, I was terrified—every breath I took during those seven days felt like a punishment I didn’t deserve— but today I am furious, and I want you to know exactly what you did to me. You called me pretending to be a CBI officer, flashing a caller ID that said “CBI Cyber Crime,” your voice dripping with fake authority, your tone sharp, rehearsed, calculated, designed specifically to stab panic into my heart. You told me my Aadhaar was used to open a bank account in Mumbai, that it was linked to drug trafficking, money laundering, crimes I couldn’t even comprehend. You waved fake FIRs on the screen as if you were conducting some official investigation, you showed ATM cards claiming they were tied to the so-called “criminal account,” and you made me believe I was seconds away from being arrested. At my age, hearing words like “criminal case,” “drug trafficking,” and “CBI team coming to your house,” broke me in ways I cannot express. I have lived an honest life, worked hard, raised a family, built everything with integrity, and suddenly you appeared out of nowhere trying to drag my name through filth. You forced me to sit in front of my phone for hours, not allowed to disconnect, not allowed to rest, not allowed to even think straight. You kept me under your psychological cage, your disgusting “digital arrest,” repeating threats with that shameless confidence, telling me I had to “prove my innocence.” You attacked my fear, you abused my age, you preyed on my loneliness, and every single lie you told was crafted to break my spirit. Even now, I cannot understand how a human being can be so cruel, how you can sleep at night knowing you terrorize elderly people for money. You didn’t even flinch while stealing my life savings—₹1.92 crore—money I earned over a lifetime of sacrifice. Every rupee I transferred felt like you were ripping a part of my soul out of my body. I wasn’t giving money; I was giving up everything I had worked for, every dream I had saved for, every security I had built for my old age. You are not a scammer, Sandeep; you are a disgrace to humanity. And yes, I want you to hear this—your actions didn’t just empty my bank account, they shattered my confidence, my sleep, my mental peace. You attacked an old man’s mind so brutally that even today, my hands tremble remembering your threats. Do you have any idea what that feels like? Do you understand what it means for a senior citizen to be told “you will be arrested,” “your property will be seized,” “your family will be in trouble”? You turned my home into a prison without even stepping inside it. And when I finally broke down and told my family, the shame I felt was unbearable. I felt foolish, humiliated, betrayed—not because I trusted you, but because you forced me into a corner where my mind stopped functioning. The police later told me the truth—that no officer would ever call, no one does digital arrests, no agency asks for money, no official threatens citizens through video calls. They told me to call 1930, but by the time reality struck, everything was gone. The police arrested three men—Pandu Vinith Raj, G. Thirupathaiah, and Gouni Vishwanatham—the ones who handled the accounts you used to steal from me. But you, Sandeep, the main criminal, the one whose voice tormented me for a week, are still hiding somewhere like a frightened rat, running from the law, running from justice, running from the consequences of your crimes. I want you to know that you may have stolen my money, but you did not destroy my voice. I am speaking today to warn others so no one else falls into the trap of a coward like you. What you did to me was not just a scam—it was psychological violence. You crushed my trust, you scarred my mind, you attacked a senior citizen’s dignity, and you deserve every punishment the law can give you. You thought I would remain silent, that I would stay ashamed, that age would keep me from speaking up. But let me tell you something—when elderly people are pushed to pain, they rise with more truth than criminals like you can ever handle. I speak now so the whole world knows your name, your methods, your cruelty. And I will repeat it loudly: No real CBI officer will ever call you. No one will digitally arrest you. No government agency will ever ask you for money. If anyone receives a call like the one I did, cut the line immediately, call 1930, and save yourselves from monsters like Sandeep. As for you, Sandeep—remember this: you didn’t scam a weak old man; you awakened a voice that will expose you until the day you are caught. You may still be running, but your time will come. Criminals like you always fall. And when you do, I hope you feel even a fraction of the fear you forced upon me.
