ENSPIRING.ai: Counterfeiting (Full Episode) - Trafficked with Mariana Van Zeller

ENSPIRING.ai: Counterfeiting (Full Episode) - Trafficked with Mariana Van Zeller

The video explores the extensive counterfeiting activities centered in Peru, particularly in Lima, providing a real-world overview of the people and operations involved. The narrative follows a journalist's investigation into the underground enterprises crafting fake U.S. currency, revealing the handcrafted artistry and intricate skills involved in producing high-quality counterfeit bills.

The story charts encounters with various contacts, including law enforcement and undercover interactions with the counterfeiters at different stages of production. While facing a series of setbacks, the journalist takes viewers through the risk-laden world of counterfeit printing, finishing, and distribution, showcasing the challenges faced by both law enforcement and counterfeiters.

Main takeaways from the video:

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Counterfeiting is a clandestine yet highly skilled process, involving multiple roles like printers, finishers, and buriers.
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The Peruvian counterfeiting scene is deeply embedded within local communities, often orchestrated by familial networks.
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Radical measures are taken by law enforcement, stressing international cooperation to lessen economic impacts from counterfeit bills.
Please remember to turn on the CC button to view the subtitles.

Key Vocabularies and Common Phrases:

1. counterfeit [ˈkaʊntərfɪt] - (adjective / noun) - Made in imitation of something valuable with the intent to deceive or defraud. - Synonyms: (fake, forged, bogus)

The Peruvian National Police have turned up the heat and turned Lima into the front lines in the war on counterfeiting

2. camuflage [ˈkæməˌflɑːʒ] - (verb / noun) - To disguise or conceal the presence of something by making it blend in with its surroundings. - Synonyms: (disguise, hide, cover)

The workmanship's there, and then the skills are there. It's being produced at high numbers and very high quality.

3. authenticity [ˌɔːθɛnˈtɪsɪti] - (noun) - The quality of being genuine or real. - Synonyms: (genuineness, legitimacy, veracity)

The better their handiwork, the more they can charge and the more their services will be in demand.

4. subterfuge [ˈsʌbtərˌfjuːʤ] - (noun) - Deceit used to achieve one's goals. - Synonyms: (deception, trickery, deceit)

We tend to think of black markets as a world apart, but the truth is they're all around us, hidden in plain sight.

5. artisan [ˈɑːrtɪzən] - (noun / adjective) - A worker in a skilled trade, especially one that makes things by hand. - Synonyms: (craftsman, craftsworker, skilled worker)

These guys are artisan. The workmanship's there, and then the skills are there.

6. impenetrable [ɪmˈpɛnɪtrəbl] - (adjective) - Impossible to pass through or enter. - Synonyms: (impermeable, inaccessible, unapproachable)

Criminal organizations bound by blood are notoriously difficult to penetrate.

7. surreal [səˈrɪəl] - (adjective) - Having an unreal, dreamlike quality. - Synonyms: (bizarre, dreamlike, unreal)

It's too early, so all the shops are closed. So it's this surreal scene where we walk down these corridors.

8. meticulous [məˈtɪkjələs] - (adjective) - Showing great attention to detail; very careful and precise. - Synonyms: (thorough, detailed, precise)

With a popsicle stick, he applies glue for weight and texture to get the feel just right.

9. clandestine [klænˈdɛstɪn] - (adjective) - Kept secret or done secretively, especially because illicit. - Synonyms: (covert, furtive, surreptitious)

Counterfeiting is a clandestine yet highly skilled process.

10. infiltrate [ɪnˈfɪltreɪt] - (verb) - To gain access to an organization or place secretly in order to acquire secret information or cause damage. - Synonyms: (penetrate, sneak into, gain access to)

These counterfeiters are on guard that any gringos could be Secret Service agents trying to infiltrate their operation.

Counterfeiting (Full Episode) - Trafficked with Mariana Van Zeller

Every city has its secrets. Vima is no different. Over the last decade, a new criminal enterprise has taken root, and a new breed of gangster craftsmen has emerged. But how they work and who they are is a mystery to me. And I'm not the only one looking for them.

The Peruvian National Police have turned up the heat and turned Lima into the front lines in the war on counterfeiting. That's how I landed here at Lurigancho Prison, one of the most dangerous prisons in all of South America. The Peruvian national police tipped me off to a counterfeiter. They recently nabbed a man they'd been chasing for years. He's wearing a mask for two reasons. He doesn't want to be known as a snitch in prison, and he doesn't want his young daughter to know that he's locked up. He's told her that he's taken a job abroad.

Incredibly, it's estimated that 60% of all fake US bills are produced in Peru. He says it was an informant that ultimately got him busted by the police. But the hunt for this man actually began 3,500 miles north. Two weeks earlier, I paid a visit to the Secret Service. The agency we associate with these guys in crisp suits protecting the president, is also in charge of protecting our money. When fakes are detected anywhere in the world, they're sent here for the monetary equivalent of an autopsy. I watch as analysts examine each of the bill's component parts. The paper, the ink, the colors within. Each fake hides clues about its origin.

Telltale markers are discovered, the chemical makeup of a certain ink or the density of a certain paper stock. Each bill then gets cataloged, helping the Secret Service identify the world's biggest players in the counterfeit game. What happened? In the early 2000s, the first Peruvian produced note started popping up. And in Peru, there were no counterfeit laws at the time. It just caught everybody's surprise that it started there. This field agent wants to remain anonymous for safety reasons. He tells me the agency first opened a Lima office in 2012 because the counterfeit scene was booming. These guys are artisan. The workmanship's there, and then the skills are there. It's being produced at high numbers and very high quality.

Tonight, the real cost of fake money. Officers want everyone to be on the lookout after a batch of bad bills has turned up in the city. Another counterfeit money bust in Limestone County. When it comes to counterfeiting, it's pretty much crime that hurts everybody, from nations economies to businesses, to your mom and pop stores. Things that are being passed are worthless. You're at the bank and next to you, look at you. Look, you're the criminal. It's almost like a mugging that you didn't know happened.

We tend to think of black markets as a world apart, but the truth is they're all around us, hidden in plain sight, difficult to see until someone lets you in. That's especially true when tracking this counterfeiting story. In Lima, the leads are literally everywhere. Seemingly everyone has been a victim of fake bills, with the walls of some shops looking like a gallery for the city's criminal artisans. In a cash society like Peru, anywhere money changes hands is an opportunity for a counterfeiter. And nowhere does more money change hands than here, among Lima's cambistas, or street side money changers. Sometimes it's the customer trying to slip fake bills to the cambista, and sometimes it's the other way around.

The combistas, the money exchangers. I never go to those. You never know what's real and what's fake. It's a very murky world, put it that way. I contact my friend Fernando Lucena. He's a local investigative journalist who said he could get me in touch with one of these crooked cambistas. The man I'm meeting is akin to a neighborhood drug dealer. He's my entry point to the underworld. I'm hopeful he might introduce me to some of the bigger players in the game, the ones moving millions in fake bills into the U.S. okay. He doesn't want his face revealed. He just asked me if I was a buyer, if I was an undercover buyer. He's going to show us some of the fake dollars that he sells.

This looks pretty great to me. This sounds like money to me. Pull the bill out, turn it over, feel it. There's texture. It's rough and smooth. There's a watermark security thread. Layers and layers of detail. Each element presents a new challenge for counterfeiters. But the better their handiwork, the more they can charge and the more their services will be in demand. So touch, look, and turn.

We all have intimate relationships to money. We chase it, we spend it, we save it. We make big life decisions because of it. And yet it's so common. I've never really looked at it. The best fake bills are so exquisitely crafted, they aren't noticed at all. Before the money changer left, he confirmed what the Secret Service told me in D.C. that once the designs for the fake bills have been produced, there are essentially three key positions in any counterfeiting operation. The printer, who is the master artisan in charge of bill production. The finisher, who adds the necessary texture and polish to the bills to make them passable, and the burier, who transports the fake cash out of the country.

I want to find all three, something an outsider has never done before. It's the best way for me to fully understand the inner workings of this black market and the circumstances and motivations of the people who run it. Enter another of my contacts, a local producer who shares a nickname with Peru's national dish, Ceviche. Over the last several years, he's been building connections in Lima's underworld, specifically through a man we'll call Diego. Ceviche tells me that the counterfeiting racket in Lima is run by a handful of families, and Diego's gotten tight with one of them. Each of these families controls underground workshops where old school offset printers churn out sheet after sheet of fake bills. Criminal organizations bound by blood are notoriously difficult to penetrate. Getting inside one of these operations, especially with cameras, is next to impossible.

In this business, there are always risks. But I felt okay with a daytime meeting, hopefully somewhere public. That is, assuming they call. Three hours pass and still nothing from Diego. When the adrenaline kicks in, I know things are about to get good. We're on our way to meet with a gang of Peruvian counterfeiters in one of the shadier neighborhoods in Lima. At the last minute, they change the meeting spot. They're waiting for us already. With the location change, we'll be late to the meeting.

Part of me wonders if these guys are looking for an excuse to bail on us. Lima's counterfeiters are extra skittish these days. I would be, too, if I was being hunted. There have been a series of huge busts recently, including one only days before we arrived that intercepted $5 million in fake bills. The Peruvian National Police. This gave us this footage. It wasn't at all what I'd expected. I'd imagine these counterfeiting operations happening in warehouses or factories in dark corners of the city. But much of it seems to be happening in residential neighborhoods, on quiet streets, inside garages, hidden in plain sight.

Okay, cameras down. For obvious reasons, we couldn't record this initial meeting. But let me tell you how it all went down. I've been on a lot of these underworld first dates over the last 15 years. You never know exactly what you're walking into. At an outdoor cafe, Diego introduces us to the boss and his bodyguard, who is covered in tattoos. One on his arm reads in English only God can judge me. The mood is tense. Suspicious. As I always do in these situations, I order beers. Soon after, I'm sharing my unofficial resume photos on my phone of me hanging out with men like these from all around the world.

Then the food arrives. More talk, more drinks. I then explain that I've heard they're the most talented counterfeit fitters in the world. You'd be surprised how many doors flattery can open. I knew I'd passed the test when the bodyguard gave me a nickname. He pointed at me from across the table and said, mirena, my queen. You're gonna see amazing things tomorrow night. In any city, there are people who play by the rules and people who don't. Usually it's hard to tell the difference.

Finding my way into the criminal underworld is always an adventure. That's why I love what I do. It's also knowing that once you're in, you get to witness what very few outsiders ever do. A universe governed by its own laws and power structures that teaches us a whole lot about our own game time in Peru. Like many places in Central and South America, gringos is synonymous with Americans. In this case, the counterfeiters are on guard that any gringos could be Secret Service agents trying to infiltrate their operation. Almost.

They've told us to meet them here at a downtown park. Ironically, only blocks from the palace of Justice. Somewhere in these surrounding buildings, fake money is being made. They've set two rules. Only the crew they met with are allowed inside. And once inside, we stay the entire shift from 8 pm to 8 am no one leaves. I imagine it's a rush to see your net worth growing. With every new sheet of bills coming off the press. You could print yourself out of debt or into a new car or a new house.

It's not hard to see the allure or the desperation that would cause someone to enter this line of work. One hour, no call back from Diego. Two hours, Diego's phone is off. Things aren't looking good. It's been over three hours and they still. They haven't shown up. And it's pretty safe to say that you've been stood up. No chance this is going to happen tonight. There's nothing worse than getting this close and not coming home with a story. But giving up isn't an option. They are still out there and I'm going to find them.

Stories go cold sometimes. You can't expect explain it. You make a connection. You make plans. Things seem to be falling into place. And then you find yourself staring at your phone for A call that never comes. In these moments, I always remind myself that nothing's changed. The story is still out there. Somewhere in the city, offset printing machines are churning out sheets after sheets of fake dollars. I just need to find a new answer.

Nothing happens as fast as you want it to. This isn't the safest neighborhood, so we should try to avoid showing off our cameras. But I have faith that another door will open. They were definitely, like, saucing us out. Until I can find some of these counterfeiters in the wild, I lean on the contacts I've already made. Okay, so he's showing us how he works the watermark. Oh, boy. Okay, Perfect. Perfect. Okay.

Seems that everything is in place. Yeah, so far. Is it good? Fingers crossed. It's 5 am and my initial contact in Lima, Fernando, has a new lead on a printer who seems willing to meet with us. We got this meeting set up in a legal printing operation. Are we going to meet a guy who's supposedly an ink master and finally see what these printing operations look like? What can and can't we do? What he's told me is basically keep the team as small as possible. Don't call his name in front of anyone. Just keep it low key.

We just want to make be absolutely sure that we play by their rules because we want to be able to get this in the bag. Everybody's anxious and nervous and hoping that this is. That this will all go as planned. We park outside a shopping mall and wait for word from our contact. Okay, there are two guys walking. Is that him? Yeah, right. That just came out. Yeah. Fred, if he sees you. Okay, he's here. Okay, let's go, guys. This is it. Wow, this is incredible. And they're just friendly fake money.

It's early morning in Lima and the smell of fresh ink is in the air. I found my way to a printer who specializes in counterfeit US dollars. It's like no underworld scene I've accessed before. It's so out in the open that I'm actually nervous for them. Wow. This is incredible. This is amazing. I mean, we're in a printing mall. It's too early, so all the shops are closed. So it's this surreal scene where we walk down these corridors and everything was closed. And then suddenly there's a bright light here and they're just printing.

Fake printing is the most daring aspect of fake note production. It's loud, it's long, and it's often done in public locations like this. It's also very difficult. It takes years to learn the secrets of this train. The inks, the paper, the machine. The process of forging bills is equal parts art and science. Very few have the right combination of talents. This is the beginning of everything they do here. Every single hundred dollar bill that's done here starts with this metal plate, and it's essentially the watermark. These plates are made by coveted designers and are critical to the whole operation.

Check this out. All the bills coming out. Ah. The second part is the off white color of every banknote. That is crazy. So the whole process takes a month and a half. No. Holy. That's a ton of money. That is. They can make $6 million with a machine that cost them $7,000 to buy here. The later it gets, the more nervous the printer becomes. We can hear other shops opening, voices echoing down the hallway. The mood totally changed and they're super nervous because you can see the hundred dollar bills here, the metal plate. So they want to do this process really fast.

Wow. Check this out. This is amazing. We've got the watermarks, the background color of the banknote, and now Franklin's face. Yeah, okay. He's hiding everything. They heard that there's somebody walking down the corridors. Problem soon. We have to go. As we head for our van, it hits me that what surprised me most about the printer is something that also surprised me about the prisoner. They were both conflicted about their decision to get into counterfeiting, but both realized that perfecting their craft was the best way to stay in demand.

Once the bills come off the printer, there's still work to be done to make a convincing fake. Fernando is able to locate another of Peru's finest underworld artisans, the finisher. His role is to add texture and weight to the bills so they will pass the touch, look and turn test. We're driving to Vila El Salvador, on the south side of Lima. An area that locals describe as picante, meaning hot. Hot. With every criminal enterprise you can imagine. The cops call it Diaz Albaje because the murder rate is not particularly low.

Is that him? Just keep the camera up and roll. He's going to show us the stuff that he just got. So it's a sponge regular. This is for cutting the notes to make a straight cut nasty. The US spends millions and millions of real dollars to deter counterfeiting. And these counterfeiters get around it with school supplies. In an effort to look less conspicuous, we plan to meet back up in his workshop. We sneak in our cameras in bags. I wonder if his neighbors have any idea what's happening inside this room. If they only knew.

My search for the makers of the finest counterfeit bills in the world has brought me to this working class neighborhood outside of Lima and to this man. They call him the finisher, and his skills are in high demand. It's a painstaking process, all done by hand. With a popsicle stick, he applies glue for weight and texture to get the feel just right. He adds what he calls English cornstarch, which I recognize instantly. You can really feel the texture. It's changed. It's amazing. He says he also works on hundreds and fifties, but twenties are easier to fake and much less scrutinized. With just a few items you can get at any corner store and a whole lot of patience, the touch, sound and smell of the bills are totally convincing.

Extra. It's always fascinating to me how people end up working in black markets. In many ways, counterfeiting is just another crime of opportunity. A driver by day discovers he has the extraordinary patience and craftsmanship to finish bills by night. A printer specializing in calendars and business cards realizes he can deploy the same machines and skills to produce stacks and stacks of fake bills. But all the time and work that goes into making a convincing fake is worthless if those bills don't reach the legal economy. And that's where this man comes in.

They call him the burrier, a Peruvian mashup formed from the Spanish word buro, meaning donkey, and the word courier. Counterfeiting networks know that some portion of their shipments will be confiscated. So they employ an army of ants who transport fake bills into the US by airplane, by car, by boat, on foot. They even ship fake bills through the mail. But getting these fake bills into the country isn't enough. They need to get them into circulation. The counterfeiting game is all about getting change.

What you might do is at different shopping centers, going down a highway corridor. You could hit malls on the north side of town and malls on the south side of town. One fast food place, one convenience store. You spend, you know, eight, nine dollars, and then you pay with a hundred. And that means you're coming back with, you know, 90 some dollars of genuine real money. Yeah, you could, you know, pocket a thousand dollars by the end of the day, and you're not really doing much. It's like an ATM that doesn't belong to you.

When counterfeiters do get busted, their stash of fake bills get sent to the Secret Service, where they're examined, cataloged, used in prosecution, and then destroyed. Some of these fake bills are probably from Peru. Maybe they even pass through the hands of the guys I met. But even if the Lima scene is shut down, there will be others. It's an old con and an old truth. If you're desperate enough to make some money, one option is to make some money.

Peru, Crime, Investigation, Economics, Global, Entrepreneurship, National Geographic