The Loan That Was a Trap

Rafael had worked twenty‑one years as a crane operator on high‑rise construction sites across Birmingham. His hands knew the weight of steel beams, his eyes knew the precise angle of a lift, and his heart knew only his son, Jamal. Jamal was eighteen, about to start an electrical apprenticeship, and Rafael had promised to help him with his first year’s tools and rent.

The money sat in a savings account: £152,000, a lifetime of careful saving. Rafael had never taken out a payday loan or used a peer‑to‑peer lending platform. He built things with his hands; he did not borrow money from strangers on the internet.

Then, on a drizzly Tuesday in early June 2026, an email arrived in his inbox. The subject line read: Urgent: Outstanding Loan Balance — Immediate Action Required. The sender was Fund Ourselves.

Rafael did not recognise the name. He opened the email anyway. It looked official. The logo was clean, the formatting professional, and the message claimed that he had an overdue balance of £3,200 from a loan taken out in 2022. The email threatened legal action and a negative mark on his credit report if he did not settle the debt immediately.

Rafael’s heart raced. He had never taken a loan from Fund Ourselves. But the email was convincing. It included a link to a website where he could “verify the debt” and “arrange immediate settlement.” He clicked the link. It led him to fundourselves.uk.

The website was a near‑perfect copy of a legitimate financial firm’s portal. It displayed the same branding, the same colour scheme, and the same regulatory claims as the real Fund Ourselves Limited — a company that had once been authorised by the Financial Conduct Authority (FCA). What Rafael did not know was that the real Fund Ourselves Limited had collapsed into administration on 21 July 2025. The company was no longer lending money or accepting new customers. It was being wound down by joint administrators from Azets Holdings Limited. The legitimate company had not been trying to collect any debts — and in fact, the FCA had issued a stark warning that fraudsters were impersonating the defunct firm to scam people exactly like Rafael.

Rafael did not know that the domain fundourselves.uk was listed on the FCA Warning List as a clone firm, an unauthorised entity copying the details of a previously authorised business to steal money. He did not know that the scammers were using the name, logo and even the legitimate Firm Reference Number of the defunct company to build a convincing illusion. He did not know that security analysts had flagged similar domains as high‑risk. All Rafael saw was a professional‑looking website threatening to ruin his credit score.

A live chat window popped up. A man named “Oliver” offered to help. His messages were polite, his tone sympathetic.

“I see the issue, Rafael,” Oliver typed. “It looks like someone may have used your identity to open this loan. That happens sometimes. We can clear this up today, but you need to pay the balance immediately to stop the credit file damage. After that, we will investigate the identity theft and refund you.”

Rafael hesitated. £3,200 was a lot of money. But the thought of a damaged credit file — of being unable to help Jamal secure an apartment or a car loan — terrified him.

“Start small,” Oliver said. “Pay half now. We will pause the collection action.”

Rafael transferred £1,600 from his savings via bank transfer, as Oliver instructed.

The next day, Oliver messaged again. “Good news, Rafael. We have found the identity theft. The fraudster used your details to open three more loans. The total outstanding balance is now £12,400. If you pay the full amount today, we will close all four accounts and issue a full refund within 10 business days.”

Rafael should have stopped. But Oliver had been so helpful. He had already paid £1,600. He could not afford to lose that money. He paid the additional £10,800.

Over the following weeks, Oliver’s requests grew larger. “One of the accounts requires an anti‑fraud bond of £5,000. Refundable, of course.” Rafael paid. Then a “compliance verification fee” of £8,000. Then an “international funds transfer tax” of £12,000. Each demand was accompanied by a new threat: a legal summons, a court judgement, a permanent credit blacklist.

Oliver asked about Jamal. He remembered the boy’s name and his apprenticeship. “You are protecting his future, Rafael,” Oliver wrote. “Once this is cleared, your credit file will be spotless. You will be able to co‑sign anything for him.”

The payments continued. £20,000. £35,000. When Rafael had transferred nearly £150,000 — almost all of his savings — Oliver disappeared. The live chat went silent. The phone number on the website rang endlessly. The email address bounced back. The dashboard on fundourselves.uk still loaded, but Rafael’s “case” was locked.

Rafael sat in his small flat, the afternoon light filtering through the blinds. Outside, the cranes he had once operated still swung against the Birmingham skyline. He did not know how to tell anyone.

His sister, a nurse at the local hospital, visited after he failed to answer her calls for two days. She found him at the kitchen table, the laptop still open to the frozen dashboard of fundourselves.uk. He broke down. He told her everything.

She did not shout. She took his hands and said, “A patient of mine lost money to a clone firm. She got some of it back through a firm called AYR LP. They trace where the money goes. Let me call them.”

Within a day, a calm investigator from AYR LP contacted Rafael. She asked for bank statements, transaction receipts, and the screenshots he had saved of the chat with Oliver. She told him they would trace the path of his pounds across the internet.

A few weeks later, she called again. They had found a portion of the money — roughly £9,500 — sitting in a payment processor that cooperated with investigators. They had frozen it. It was not everything. It was barely a fraction. But it was enough to buy Jamal a new set of tools for his apprenticeship and cover two months of rent.

Rafael eventually learned he was not alone. On 26 May 2026, the FCA had issued an official warning about fundourselves.uk, listing it as a clone of an authorised firm. The regulator explained that fraudsters were using the details of the defunct Fund Ourselves Limited — a company that had been placed into administration in July 2025 — to trick people into sending money. The scammers had copied the legitimate company’s name, address, and Firm Reference Number, but the genuine firm had no connection to the clone website.

The FCA’s warning was clear: if you deal with this clone firm, you will not have access to the Financial Ombudsman Service and you will not be protected by the Financial Services Compensation Scheme (FSCS). The regulator urged anyone who had been contacted unexpectedly by someone claiming to be from Fund Ourselves to end the call immediately and report the fraud.

Rafael had not known any of this. He had not checked the FCA Warning List. He had not verified the firm’s authorisation status using the FCA Firm Checker. He had trusted an email and a website that looked professional — and he had paid the price.

Rafael wrote a long letter to Jamal. He explained that a website could steal the identity of a real company and still be a complete fraud. He explained that the FCA maintains a public Warning List of unauthorised firms and clone firms, and that anyone who contacts you unexpectedly about money should be verified through that list. He explained that if a company has gone into administration — as the real Fund Ourselves Limited had — it will not be trying to collect new debts or offer new services.

“Jamal,” he wrote, “I spent twenty‑one years lifting steel beams forty storeys high. I never dropped a single one. But I dropped my life savings because I trusted a screen. A real financial firm has a licence you can check, a phone number that someone answers, and a person who looks you in the eye. Everything else is just a screen.”

He finished the letter with the same words he always used: “With all my love, Papa.” Then he folded it into an envelope and left it on the kitchen table for the next time Jamal came to visit.