The Selfie Snatcher
It was a
complete and total shock to me, coming down the stairs to find this man
standing there, a complete stranger, holding a gun in his hand as he looked at
me. My husband had already left for
work, and my plan had been to go and have coffee with the girls – but that
wasn’t going to happen.
I wasn’t even
smartly dressed – like I said, I was going out for a coffee, and when you read
about this sort of thing in the papers they always seem to be glamorous people,
dressed up to the nines or snatched from their beds. Not in my case – I was wearing an old grey
sweater and cardie, faded jeans, an old pair of over the knee brown suede boots
and a large tartan scarf wrapped round my neck to keep my throat safe.
So I came
down, and there he was – black jacket and pants, dark glasses, gloves, and as I
said a gun. He looked at me, smiled, and
told me not to scream, or I would regret it.
He then asked me to take my mobile phone out of my bag.
Well, he had
the gun, what was I supposed to do? I
took it out of my purse, and then handed that over, thinking that was all he
was going to do – take my purse. So when
he said he wanted me to take a selfie of myself on my phone, I did it – no
questions, no argument. He even told me
to smile – and when I look at it now, I can see how fixed that grin is.
He then took
my phone from me, turned me round, and pulled my wrists behind my back, tying
them together with rope, before he turned me round again and pressed a strip of
some sort of plaster over my mouth.
Leaving a letter with my phone, he frogmarched me out of the house and
into a van, making me lie in the back as he secured my ankles with more rope,
and then got in the front, driving off with me in the back!
I had no idea
how long he drove for, but when he carried me out over his shoulder I saw I was
in some sort of garage or warehouse. He
took me to a mattress, laid me down on it, and then tied my legs together below
my knees, as well as securing my arms to my sides. He then left me there, shivering with cold
and fear, while he kept looking at his own phone.
Eventually,
he lifted me up and carried me back into the van, and we drove off again. He said nothing, did nothing to me, until he
opened the side of the van and I saw it was pitch black outside. Untying my legs, he made me walk out – and up
my own front path, as he drove off again.
My husband
opened the door and gathered me in, kissing me as he untied the ropes and
peeled what turned out to be white tape from my mouth. The kids were asleep in bed, and he told me
he had paid a small ransom – just to make sure I was safe again...
The phenomenon of people wanting to
take pictures of their clothes, and post them on line, has grown over the last
few years, but quietly evidence has emerged of a more sinister aspect of this
form of entertainment. At first, it
appeared to be a harmless eccentric, as one student in London recalled.
Yeah, I
remember when one of my friends introduced me to this guy. He was a typical student – not ugly, not
strikingly handsome. At any rate, he
offered to help me with an assignment, and so he came round one afternoon.
I was
casually dressed – white short sleeved top, dark blue leggings, white wool
socks and burgundy leather boots. I also
had a brown shawl hanging loosely round my neck. We worked for a while, and then I asked if he
would mind if I took a selfie of myself for my own amusement.
Well, he
didn’t object, so I got my phone out, posed in front of a mirror, and took a
couple of shots. That was when he said
he wondered what would happen if someone used that as a ransom photo.
Well, I had
drama as a minor, and it gave me an idea for a role play exercise. I asked him to pretend he had forced me to
take the photo, and then tried to hold me hostage. What would he do?
He smiled,
and asked if I had any tape. I had a
roll of packing tape, so he took that and asked me to sit in an old
armchair. He then taped my wrists to the
armrests, and my ankles to the front legs, before pressing a strip over my
mouth and using my phone to take a photo of me.
That was it –
innocent enough, I’m sure you’ll agree.
He gave me the phone back, cut me free, and we got back to work. Surely that didn’t start this off.
Surely...
As she said, it seemed an innocent
enough game – but a few weeks later, another young woman had a slightly more
unusual experience with what may have been the same young man...
We’d gone
clothes shopping this particular Saturday morning, and I had gone into a booth
with a couple of jackets to try on, with my boyfriend coming in with me. It was a cold day, so I had a grey woollen
snood around my neck, covering the top of my linen jacket and pale blue
top. The legs of my jeans were tucked
into dusky brown leather boots, with false buckles on the outside. I had my blonde hair up in a bun, and
sunglasses on just because I thought they looked cool.
Anyway, he
watched me as I tried on the new jackets, but I could see he was – well
bored. What do you expect of men at
times? I asked him what he wanted to do,
and he asked me if I was up for a little wager.
Well, I asked
him what he had in mind, and he laughed, said I’d never agree to it. I looked at him, and said I would, and that’s
when he said it.
He bet me he
could put something on my mouth, stop me talking, and walk me out of the store
with nobody noticing. I said if he did
that, then he could do whatever he wanted with me when we got home.
Well, that
was when he took out of his pocket a roll of flesh coloured sticking
plaster. It was a little wider than my
mouth, and as I watched him tear a strip free, I realised he was going to use
it to gag me!
Before he put
it on, however, he said I should take a selfie of myself, so I got out my phone
and did so, with a bit of a scowl. I
then put my lips together and waited as he smoothed the plaster over my lips,
then retrieved my lipstick and drew over the shape of my lips.
When I looked
again in the mirror, I actually could not see the plaster, as he took the
jacket I’d selected, and we went to buy it.
He paid, we walked out, along the mall and to the car park – and nobody
said anything.
Well, when we
got home, and I took that off, I kept my promise – but we broke up soon after
that. Wonder if he pulled that trick on
anyone else...
It was soon after that the reports of
the so-called Selfie Snatcher started to come in. An early example was in the Suffolk hills, as
this lady recalls...
I had just
come back from taking my dog to the vets, and walked straight up to my bedroom,
letting her run round in the back garden as she usually does. It was an autumn day, so I had pulled on a
pair of black Hunter wellingtons over my black leggings, the red wool infinity
scarf still round my neck and hanging over the top of my light pink jumper. The hem of my black top with thin white stripes
could be seen under that as well.
Anyway – I
had gone into my bedroom when my mobile went off, and I started talking to my
husband without paying much attention round me.
If I had, I might have seen the young man hiding in the corner of the
room, but as I said, my attention was elsewhere.
So when I
finished the call, and looked up, there he was, smiling at me as he held a
pistol in his hand and pointed it at me.
The balaclava covered his head, and he wore gloves, while I could see my
jewels in a bag on the table. I stared
at him for a moment, before he looked at the mirror and said “use your phone,
and take a picture of yourself.”
Well, I did
it, not quite believing myself as I used my iPhone, and then he took it off me,
smiling as he picked up a ball of string which I had been using to wrap some
parcels.
He told me to
turn round, and put my hands behind my back, and to my great surprise he used
the string to tie my wrists together, my palms pressing against each
other. It was like a surreal dream as I
felt them being held together, and then he lifted my scarf, and pulled it
between my lips, using the string to tighten it at the back of my neck so that
it was held firmly in place.
Picking up
the bag, he walked me down the stairs, and left my phone on a table in the
hallway, taking a moment to scribble a note.
To my great surprise, he then walked me out of the house and opened the
boot of a car. I looked at him, and then
he made me sit on the edge, and then lifted my legs and manoeuvred me so that I
was lying on my side.
He used the
string to secure my ankles together, and then closed the boot lid, leaving me
in darkness with the taste of wool no my tongue as we drove off. We eventually stopped, and I could hear him
walking away, but I was left in darkness.
It was a
while before the boot opened, and I looked up at my husband. He untied me, helped me out, and told me he
had found my phone, and a note saying I had been taken hostage and left where
we were – a country park some miles from our house.
I guess I
wasn’t hurt, but it was a scary situation – it was actually a kidnapping, when
you look at it in that way, wasn’t it...
Over the following months, more and
more people reported this strange occurrence – a masked and armed person making
them take a photo on their phones, and then removing them somewhere else. At first, it was associated with home
robberies, but then a report came in which went a little further...
I was
attending this high level sales conference, as my company’s lead negotiator,
and if I say so myself doing very well indeed.
The day was nearly over, so I went back to my hotel room to relax for a
few minutes, and change into something over than a work outfit.
I remember I
was wearing a grey cowl necked dress made of wool, with a wide black leather
belt, dark hose and knee length black boots.
It was appropriately sober, business like – but my feet ached, and as I
went into the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror.
There was a
knock on the door, and I went to see who it was – like an idiot, opening the
door without thinking. So when he forced
his way in, his eyes looking at me through the holes in the balaclava, I was
too terrified to do much.
“I want you,”
he said quietly, “to do whatever I say, understand?”
I nodded, and
even whimpered, as he said “I want you – to take a selfie.”
“Wha...”
“Go into the
bathroom,” he said quietly, “and take a selfie of yourself. Make sure you smile.”
Well, I just
did what he said – went in, stood slightly to the side, smiled and took the
selfie, before he took the phone off me, and laid it on the table the
television was sitting on with a sealed envelope. He then made me lie face down on the bed,
crossed my wrists behind my back, and used some cord he took from a pocket to
tie my wrists together.
He did it
tightly as well, so that I could not reach the knots, before he crossed and
tied my ankles tightly together. He then
used more rope to secure my legs below my knees, before he rolled me over and
took a strip of duct tape from his black jacket, pressing it firmly over my
lips.
“Wthsstthmmnfths,”
I said as he went and opened the room door, then came back – and lifted me over
his shoulder, his arm round my legs as I was carried out of the room and down
the service stairs. I found myself in
the basement, and then in the back of a transit van as he covered me with a
blanket, and I felt the van move off.
I later found
out the note was to ask for a ransom – five hundred pounds, to be delivered to
a certain place. I knew nothing of this
– the first I knew was when the police found me in a car park ten miles away,
abandoned and left to be found.
As to the
motive – money, I imagine, but it was the strange way it happened. Making me take what is in essence my ransom
photo? Weird...
Whoever was doing this soon progressed
to more major kidnappings...
My dad is a
managing director of an estate agent, so we’re well of, and I like to spend
money and look good. This particular
day, I had just bought a new white jersey mini dress, with elbow length
sleeves, and was anxious to try it on when I got home.
I guess
that’s how he got in – I didn’t make sure the door was closed, but at the time
it didn’t matter. I was that eager –
running up to my room, and stripping off.
My mum’s Japanese, so I have those facial features with long black hair
– and as I put on the dress, I thought it looked wonderful.
I went to my
wardrobe, and took out a pair of over the knee black suede boots, putting them
on and looking at myself in the mirror. I
was so pleased by the way it looked that I grabbed my mobile phone, looked at
it as I pointed it at a mirror, and took a picture.
At which
point, I heard footsteps, and then felt a leather gloved hand as it was clamped
over my mouth, and an arm went round my waist.
I had no time to react as I was forced face down onto my bed, and I felt
my arms pulled behind my back, the rope biting into my bare wrists as it was
used to force them together.
“Do what I
tell you to do,” the male voice said as I was made to sit up, and I felt rope
being tied round my upper body, forcing my arms into my sides as it went round
my stomach.
I then looked
over my shoulder as he crossed and bound my ankles together. He was tall, a bit fat, wearing a black
leather jacket and dark jeans, trainers, and black gloves as well as a
balaclava mask.
He soon had
my ankles bound securely together, and then I watched as he tied my legs together
below my knees. Making me sit up, he
took my mobile phone and took another picture of me wriggling about, before he
took an envelope out from the inside of his jacket and left it with my phone.
He then
produced a roll of white tape from his jacket pocket, and took a pair of
panties from my drawer, before putting the latter in my mouth and wrapping the
former round my head to keep them in place.
He hadn’t said anything since the original admonition to be quiet, and
yet he was in total control – as he threw me over his shoulder, and carried me
out to a van, dropping me on a pile of blankets inside and driving me away.
He held me in
a garage or something like that, feeding me and allowing me to go to the
toilet, but most of the time I was trussed and gagged. The envelope he left was a ransom demand, and
it took Daddy that long to raise the money.
The worst
thing was, when I finally was released, the photos had somehow been forwarded
to all my contacts. I still get reminded
of it from time to time...
The police are looking for this man or
men – it may be a group, it may be one person, no one is quite sure...
“I think it
shows you to a great advantage, don’t you?”
Grace looked
at the picture and slowly nodded. It
showed her in front of a mirror, smiling as she stood in her green cowl necked
jersey dress, dark tights and knee length tan leather boots. Her long brown hair fell over the shoulders,
a necklace round her neck.
That necklace
now sat in a velvet bag, with the rest of her jewellery, as she lay on the
bed. Her arms were pulled behind her bag
and her wrists secured tightly together, with rope around her arms and upper
body, the bands above and below her chest.
She tried to
move her legs, but the ropes holding her ankles tightly together creaked on the
leather, and then the ropes around her legs below her knees meant she could
barely move them anyway. A large strip
of white tape covered her mouth, and under that a pair of her panties filled
her mouth.
“Now then,”
the masked man said as he turned and looked at her mother, “your turn. Take the selfie, dear lady.”
While Grace
was in her mid twenties, her mother was in her early fifties, and had the same
long brown hair, the gray showing at the roots.
She was wearing a cowl necked jersey dress as well, hers with black and
white horizontal strips and a thin brown belt round her waist, purple leggings
and straight light tan boots.
But right now
all she could do was look at her daughter, then nod as she tried to smile and
held her mobile phone up, taking a selfie of herself.
“Nice,” the
masked man said as he took her phone, and then wrapped a length of rope round
her arms and chest, pulling them into her sides, “now we get you wrapped up,
and the two of you get to take a nice little trip until Pater decides to pay
me...”
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