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A stranger messaged him on Facebook. It was the start of a nightmare that cost him $280,000
By Faith Karimi8 hr ago
Joseph Novak poses at his home in New Jersey on November 28, 2025.
Austin Steele/CNN
Joe Novak’s Facebook pinged last year with a friendly message from a stranger. Little did he know it was the start of an ordeal that would eventually tear his life apart.
It was October 2024, three months after Novak shared a public post about the lack of safe fast-food options for his son, who has celiac disease. It drew a handful of likes and comments from his friends.
And now, a response to his post had popped up in his inbox.
“I don’t know you, you are my recommended friend on FB … so I added you, hope this doesn’t disturb you,” it read.
“… I find your post about your son very heartwarming. Maybe we can connect?”
The messages seemed harmless. The sender’s profile showed a slender blonde woman named Ailis Danner. She described herself as a fashion designer who worked on Madison Avenue, the heart of New York City’s luxury shopping district.
The two began an exchange, and their messages – at her suggestion – moved from Facebook Messenger to WhatsApp, where they gradually grew more personal.
Novak had lost his job as a vice president of information technology for a telemarketing company months earlier and was in the middle of a divorce and a custody battle over his two kids. She told him about her globetrotting lifestyle as a fashion designer navigating two continents. Like him, she said she was divorced. She said she’d lost a child in a miscarriage and admired his devotion to his children.
By February, they’d declared their love for each other. But what seemed like a whirlwind romance now appears like a scheme to lure Novak into a fake crypto investment. By April this year, he’d funneled $280,000 – almost his entire life savings – to an investment site she recommended. And the woman, along with her Facebook profile, vanished not long after.
“I lost everything. I lost my kids’ future. I lost my future,” said Novak, 52, who lives in Wallington, New Jersey. “I cried every day. How do you tell your 78-year-old mom who has medical problems that everything’s gone?”
Novak’s experience is part of a growing online scam known as “pig-butchering,” which authorities say has drained billions from US victims through fake cryptocurrency investments.
It often starts with innocuous online messages from a fraudster posing as a romantic interest to gain trust and connection. As the bond grows, the scammers introduce the idea of crypto investing, projecting images of wealth and financial success to make it seem attainable. Experts have compared it to fattening a pig before slaughter.
“Ailis” flaunted images of a luxurious lifestyle that included red Ferraris, fancy vacations and front-row seats at fashion shows.
She sent Novak playful WhatsApp voice notes explaining how to pronounce her name, and shared videos of a fluffy chocolate goldendoodle, Lucky.
Hear an example of an "Ailis" voice note
Source: Joe Novak
Other times, the videos showcased more mundane moments, like a picturesque snowfall over Manhattan or the sound of her footsteps weaving through the city’s chaos.
The carefully curated details and imagery were part of a plan to build trust, experts tell CNN. Novak, who lives about 20 miles from New York City, knew when it was snowing in the area, making her story more believable.
“She would talk about money. She sent me pictures of these fancy cars, and she had this lavish lifestyle,” Novak said. “I didn’t care. At 50 … all I wanted was to connect with someone. I don’t care what you have.”
Except for one carefully staged video call, “Ailis” avoided talking on the phone or over FaceTime, preferring instead to chat through text messages or voice notes. She made vague promises about meeting Novak in New York City but demurred whenever they seemed close to firming up plans.
A CNN review of the photos and videos sent to Novak found they appear on the Instagram page of a New York City-based lifestyle influencer with a different name. That woman did not respond to CNN’s repeated requests for comment via email and Instagram messages.
Novak said he has always been reserved and introverted. In high school, he was voted the quietest in his class.
The oldest of two siblings, he was the sensible, smart brother no one worried about. He earned a computer science degree from Rutgers University, was married briefly at 25, then was married again for more than a decade before that relationship ended last year.
A former executive overseeing a team of about 20, he was let go in 2023. He’d worked for the company for nearly three decades and was in a vulnerable place after losing his job and the collapse of his marriage.
“Ailis” told him she was an immigrant from Germany who was trying to find her place in the flashy, fast-paced world of fashion.
“We shared experiences like that. I felt seen,” he said.
And “Ailis” showed consideration for him in a way no one ever had, he said. Some days, Novak took his mother to her doctor’s appointments, and he’d get messages from “Ailis” asking how the visit went. As the person everyone in his family leaned on, the new connection made him feel cared for as he navigated his divorce, he said.
His new friend said that like him, she enjoyed hiking, golfing and the outdoors. During one of their online chats, she mentioned a love for Lake George, a favorite camping spot for Novak and his children in upstate New York. He’d never posted anything on social media about his visits there, he said.
“Never, never had I mentioned Lake George prior to that. I don’t know how she made the connection,” he said.
It wasn’t the only coincidence.
“Ailis” also said she was an investor in a medical devices company – one that happened to have an office next door to Novak’s former employer. Even the fact that they lived less than an hour apart seemed like fate, he said.
“At the time, I was like ‘Oh, another connection,’” Novak told CNN. “And now, the only thing I can think of is, ‘you stupid idiot.’”
A tech executive with a deep computer background, Novak helped his company recover from a ransomware attack that wiped out its entire system. He finds it hard to believe now that he fell for the scam.
Looking back, Novak said he now sees red flags he’d overlooked. For example, “Ailis” preferred to send text messages or short voice notes, spoken in a heavy accent, rather than appearing on camera.
“You hear about people that punch themselves in the face, and you say, ‘who the f**k does that?’” he said. “I did it. I looked in the mirror in the bathroom and hysterically punched myself.”
There was one strange exception, though. In the early days of their correspondence, they had a 15-minute WhatsApp video call.
Novak remembers seeing someone sitting at the far end of what appeared to be a long table in a conference room. The person’s face was blurry, but they appeared to have a similar bone structure to “Ailis,” he said. The person sat between bookshelves, and the background showed drapes over what looked like a dark window. But it was around 3 p.m. in New Jersey – the same time zone as New York City – and the sun was still out.
“It wasn’t a full close-up (and) the setting was too clean,” Novak said. “I don’t feel like I was skeptical enough. “I’ve read up a lot on the subject (of online scams) now, and there were signs (I missed).”
Novak now believes his candor made him an easy target.
Without a job, he told “Ailis,” he needed investment opportunities to secure a future for his two children, ages 13 and 15.
“I said to her, ‘I need to do something with this, because I gotta be able to live. I gotta be able to save for my kids’ high school and college.”
“Ailis” recommended cryptocurrency as a stable source of passive income and explained how to transfer the money from his bank account to a crypto digital wallet and then connect it to what she described as a lucrative investment site. She asked him to send her screenshots of his information, including his account details, then guided him on how to use the site.
As she explained it, the purported investment site had different tiers and clients who invested more money earned higher interest rates. Higher tiers required minimum levels of investment — at least $100,000 for level one, $250,000 for level two, and $500,000 for level three.
In December, he started with two deposits of $1,500 each that he later withdrew without an issue. He was sold. Every time he was able to withdraw a little money as a test, he felt more confident that the process was working.
Each level promised a daily return, so the balance would grow daily. The more Novak left in the account, the more he earned, so he let it grow untouched, he said.
“I’m responsible for half (of) college … I don’t have a job. And now I just got this lump sum of about $280,000,” he told CNN, referring to his share of the house he shared with his wife. “So this seemed perfect.”
“Ailis” helped him navigate the process throughout. His friends implored him to be careful.
“But then you say to yourself, ‘I’m a smart guy. It’s working.’ Your mind is your biggest enemy,” he said. “By the end of January, I was probably $150,000 in.”
Meanwhile, Novak tried to persuade “Ailis” to meet in person, but she told him she was busy preparing for New York Fashion Week in February. On Valentine’s Day, as he started questioning why she had not made time to meet, she surprised him by sending a WhatsApp message saying she loved him. He was caught off-guard, but said he loved her, too.
They made plans to meet for coffee in Central Park toward the end of February. But when the date got closer she canceled, saying she had plans with her sister. She promised they’d reschedule soon.
That same month, he got a notification from the crypto site urging him to move to the next level because new investors were flooding in, he said. She told him if he deposited more money, she’d match his investment to get him to the $500,000 level.
He said he deposited everything he had – a total of $280,000. But in March, when he tried to withdraw some of the interest, the site declined the request and asked for a fee of more than $40,000.
The same day, a friend sent him an article about pig-butchering schemes. He knew then he’d likely been scammed.
“I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was already in it,” Novak said.
The Facebook stranger gradually went quiet. Desperate to get his money back, he feigned illness and pleaded with the person to loan him money to see a doctor.
In July, “Ailis” sent him a message via WhatsApp.
“I believe that you will get better sooner. The goddess of luck will not let down any kind person,” it read. Then she asked if he could use his 401(k) to pay the fee.
That was the last he heard from her for a few months. Her Facebook page vanished not long after. So did the investment site where he’d sent his money. Every time he tried to log on, he got an error message.
An expert now says the $250,000 the stranger claimed to have deposited in Novak’s account was likely part of the ploy to get him to part with all his money.
Fraudsters obtain untraceable US phone numbers to create WhatsApp accounts with which they message their victims, said Bezalel Eithan Raviv, founder of Lionsgate Network, a company that helps with crypto-recovery and financial scams. Referring to the video call, Raviv said AI deepfake technology can mimic voices and faces and make the person on screen sound like they’re responsive through utterances such as, ‘Mmmh, I see what you’re saying. OK.’
In some cases, he said, scammers hire real people to message victims. These people often don’t understand how the back end operates and may not realize they’re taking part in fraud, he said.
“This is a new breed of scammers. They are incredibly sophisticated,” Raviv said. Scammers from all over the world target Americans because they believe they have easily accessible 401(k)’s and credit lines.
“The moment that money transfers to this wallet, it’s no longer his,” Raviv said, referring to Novak’s case. “So they basically (just) reflect numbers on a screen, like a video game.”
Raviv said his company has traced the online transaction flows and cross-chain transfers of Novak’s funds and compiled a case file that it sent to him to assist law enforcement with financial fraud investigations.
The Wallington Police Department in New Jersey confirmed to CNN that Novak submitted the Lionsgate file to their investigators, who are working with the Cyber Crimes Unit of the Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office on Novak’s case.
CNN has reached out to the prosecutor’s office but has not heard back. Novak said a county investigator told him the scammers are likely in Asia.
CNN also reached out to the WhatsApp number that Novak was communicating with. The person did not answer calls but responded to messages and denied responsibility for Novak’s financial losses.
“His investment failed and you think I cheated him out of his money?” the person wrote. “He knows his situation.”
The person did not respond to other questions, such as why their profile photo is associated with a different person on social media.
“This has nothing to do with you,” the person said, cutting off contact. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
In shock and overwhelmed with shame, Novak spent most of the summer secluded at his mother’s home in Wallington. Without her help, he’d likely have ended up on the streets, he said.
He’s slowly emerging from the fog of what happened and trying to figure out a way forward. Clarity, he said, brings a different kind of pain.
But Novak said he’s not giving up. In addition to local authorities, he’s also filed a claim with the FBI’s Internet Crime Complaint Center.
He’s still looking for work. And he’s reading a lot of Eckhart Tolle, the German-born author whose books focus on mindfulness and spiritual enlightenment. The days when self-blame creeps back in are less frequent now.
“Now that I can finally speak about this, I feel optimistic about my future. I could possibly help somebody (else),” he said. “I can imagine how many people are sitting in my position now, thinking the thoughts I did, thinking they’re helpless.”
He’s also keeping a journal to help make sense of it all and hopes his children will read it someday and better understand the man he was. He still has moments when he replays “Ailis’s” messages in his head and wonders how he got here.
“How could all that be fake?” he said. “How could you fake this video call? How do you fake that it’s snowing? How do you fake a dog?”
“Ailis” has resurfaced on Facebook with a new profile and last name. But the images of red Ferraris, New York City skylines and Lucky the dog remain largely unchanged.
Earlier this month, after being contacted by CNN, the person reached out to Novak via WhatsApp for the first time since July with a series of taunting messages. But this time, Novak’s response was different.
“Ailis”: Are you fine?
Novak: How could I be given what … you did to me?
“Ailis”: What did I do to you?
“Ailis”: Okay. Getting angry won’t do any good.
“Ailis”: I didn’t force you to invest; it’s your own fault for not paying the … fee.
Novak: I pray every day that you find you (a) special place in hell to suffer from. Light always wins over dark. You choose your own path. You’ll pay for that one day, I guarantee it.
