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This morning I received this email from a policeman.

“Good Afternoon,

I hope you are well,

unfortunately, there are no significant updates to provide you at this time.

If you have any questions please let me know”

These are the words in the email exactly as I received them—with the lower case u and the absence of a full stop at the end of the sentence; and, although the email begins “good afternoon,” it was sent at 4.59 in the morning. I imagine the policeman might have been on night duty and catching up with his paperwork.

I have been receiving a similar email every month for more than two years. Here’s another example:

“Good Afternoon,

I hope you are well.

There is no significant update in relation to the investigation. I am looking for opportunities for further action however I am facing difficulties with factors involving the suspects age and health.

I understand this may be frustrating to hear. I will continue to progress this investigation and aim to get a good outcome for yourself.

If you have any questions, please get in contact.”

The story begins with a man—or more likely a series of men—walking into branches of Natwest Bank, saying they are me, and withdrawing money. (How they did it is another story, but the bank promptly reimbursed my wife and me.) On one occasion a smarter-than-average bank teller called the City of London Police, who arrived quickly and arrested the man. They may even have charged him. I’m not sure. They then let him go, saying that he would have to return for an interview.

The police notified my wife and I, and we went to the police station. In an office the size of a cupboard that barely contained four of us we gave a statement. The younger policeman, who looked as if he was 14, laboriously typed out the statement. I could have written the statement in 10 minutes, but the exercise took more than an hour. Eventually the policeman handed me a barely literate statement. I made a few corrections but didn’t have the heart to correct everything.

The policemen told us to be prepared to go to court and suggested that we contact the Metropolitan Police about the other incidents where a man had removed money from our bank account. (The jurisdiction of the City police covers only the square mile of the City. The Metropolitan Police cover the rest of London.)

I sent information to the Metropolitan Police about the other incidents, and I was able to give them not only the branch but also the exact time at which they money was removed. The banks use video and could have produced pictures of the man or men. The Metropolitan Police told me that they would not be investigating the case but recommended that I send a report to Report Fraud. I did.

I then began to receive a series of emails like the ones I’ve quoted. They began in an optimistic tone, reporting that the accused would soon be interviewed. But slowly it became apparent that the man had never come to be interviewed and never would. If the police made an attempt to pursue him they never told me. Instead, they continued to send me emails every month. At first I thanked the policeman each month.

After about 18 months I wrote to the policeman saying that it was clear that nothing was going to happen, thanked him for him for the emails, and said that he needn’t bother to send me any more. He promptly wrote back saying that by law he had to report to me every month. The emails have continued, and perhaps they will continue after I’m dead.

The whole exercise seems terribly wasteful and pointless. The policeman is sitting down once a month to compose an email, and judging by the time it took hm to write the statement it might take him 15 minutes to send each one. The police don’t seem to have made any serious effort to find the man, who may well have left the country. (He was, I guess, the “mule” of a more sophisticated fraudster.) The effort has all gone into making a statement and sending me emails I don’t want.

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