The Globe and Mail

They shaved their heads, constructed a convincing sob story and started websites to build sympathy while the money poured in. Faking cancer may just be a perfect con, profiting from compassion with a lie so monstrous that only the most cynical would suspect.

This brazen type of fraud has drawn public attention, with four Canadian cases in the space of a month leading to charges or guilty pleas, but it’s been happening for years – in other countries as well – with even heinous cases of parents pretending their kids were sick for cash.

Cancer doesn’t require a hard sell. People are already giving – cancer fundraisers both large and small take place year-round. In October, the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation’s Run for the Cure alone raised $33-million – so there’s a pool of money to siphon a fraudster’s way.

The score can be big: In Langford, B.C., 37-year-old Tina Michele Sammons, who was charged with four counts of fraud in November, is alleged to have netted $300,000 from unsuspecting donors.

People are more likely to donate when they feel their money is having an immediate effect. In experiments, study participants will give more when they are shown a person affected by the problem – a young girl, for example, orphaned by a flood – than when presented with general statements about food shortages.

Fraud requires motivated perpetrators, a supply of suitable targets and no one overseeing the truthfulness of the claims or carefully following the money trail – all ingredients that exist for this kind of crime. The Internet and sites such as Facebook have also facilitated scams by making it easier for con artists to tell their stories to a large number of people, often with loose connections to them personally. They can update people on the progress of their disease without being required to lie in person.

There are two kinds of con artists, says Richard Riley, a forensic accountant and fraud expert at West Virginia University: the professional predatory criminals who carry out a scam with no regard for the victims, and the “garden variety” accidental fraudster, who may, in these recent cases, he suggests, stumble on the idea of faking cancer after a health scare.

Ashley Kirilow of Burlington, Ont., for example, who was convicted of fraud last month, had a benign lump in her breast removed. “She had a threat of cancer,” Mr. Riley speculated, “saw other causes getting a lot of attention and raising money, and so she hatches this scheme and takes advantage of it.”

The second group typically quell any moral misgivings by rationalizing the deed – convincing themselves, for, instance, that Aunt Martha can afford to pass a little cash their way. (Or, in this instance, that no one is losing their life savings by making a small donation.)

Fraud, like all crime, has a variety of motives, often beyond economic hardship or greed – although in one recent case police have suggested that a gambling addiction may have been a factor. People who commit fraud, Mr. Riley says, tend to believe they are smarter than everyone else, and often enjoy the attention. Some psychiatrists have suggested that people charged with faking cancer may suffer from malingering – a mental condition in which a disease is feigned for attention or personal benefits. Almost always, they target family or friends – the people who trust them and may not ask too many questions.

“You start someplace close to home,” Mr. Riley says. “That’s the typical victim.”

Evolution predisposes people to be trusting and generous – trusting others is necessary for society to work – and Canada scores higher in this area than most other countries, research has found. We are easily fooled by good liars.