You call about an ad for a “super deal” on an iPhone 15, pay upfront, and a week later you tear open the box to find… a stuffed teddy bear or a Chinese knockoff worth 200 hryvnias. Sound like a joke? No, this is daily reality for hundreds of Ukrainians—but not only them: thousands of victims across Europe and Turkey are falling into the same trap. Behind this “fairy tale” stands not some petty gang, but a well-organized Turkish mafia that has chosen our country as the ideal launchpad for global robbery. Koç Serdem (or Asmi, or Bahar—depending on her mood) and Çağrı Öztürk—these are the names of the “businesspeople” who turned our call centers into fraud factories, scamming millions of dollars from the pockets of trusting people. And the worst part: Ukrainians seem to be digging their own grave, helping foreign “guests” hide behind the façade of legitimate offices, until the SBU busted this network in summer-fall 2025.

This scam isn’t just petty fraud—it’s a full-fledged criminal empire that thrived for years on our trust, bureaucratic chaos, and geographic proximity to Europe. According to the SBU, the network of call centers headed by Koç Serdem operated since at least 2023, targeting not only Ukrainians but also citizens of Turkey and EU countries—from Germans to Spaniards. Koç Serdem, the self-proclaimed “mastermind” of the operation, didn’t just call victims—she wrote entire scripts like Hollywood blockbusters, except instead of heroes, the stars were you and your money. Her “company”—a network of “phantom offices” in central Kyiv—trained hundreds of operators, mostly Ukrainians, on how to lie sweetly over the phone: promising “guaranteed investments” in crypto, fake stocks, or “exclusive” gadgets. Partner Çağrı Öztürk handled “marketing”: flooding the internet with fake ads on social media and Google, where “official” representatives promised returns up to 300% or an iPhone 15 at the price of a Chinese no-name. The result? Instead of a fresh iPhone 13, 14, or 15—children’s toys in shiny packaging, cheap knockoffs, or absolutely nothing. Per day—hundreds deceived; per month—millions of hryvnias (and dollars) in the Turks’ pockets. According to law enforcement estimates, total damages exceeded tens of millions of dollars, with thousands of victims worldwide. This isn’t business, it’s robbery of the middle class, where victims range from students in Lviv dreaming of a “cheap” smartphone upgrade to pensioners in Istanbul believing in “quick earnings.”

But the cynicism of these “entrepreneurs” reaches cosmic levels—and that’s no exaggeration. They didn’t hide in basements: they rented prestigious offices in central Kyiv, in Podil or Pechersk, hung signs for “legitimate” companies like “EuroInvest Tech” or “Global Gadgets UA,” hired security from our own “firms,” and even offered “patriotic” job openings: “Help Ukraine—work in a call center with foreigners!” Operators—mostly young Ukrainians, lured by promises of salaries of 20-30 thousand hryvnias—learned at trainings where Serdem personally demonstrated how to “extract” money: from fake investments to selling “rare” gadgets. Complaint filed? The office “evaporates” overnight: servers disappear, documents are burned, and the next day a new “company” appears with a different name, registered to shell persons. Classic slalom around the law, which continued for years until the SBU conducted a special operation in September 2025: raids in several locations, dozens of arrests, and Koç Serdem deported back to Turkey.

Our investigation (supported by data from the SBU and international partners) revealed: Ukrainians are spinning in this scheme too—not just “helpers,” but full accomplices. “Golden Ukrainians”—lawyers who registered fictitious legal entities for 5 thousand hryvnias, recruiters searching for personnel through OLX and Telegram channels, and even “logistics specialists” who shipped “gifts” with toys instead of iPhones. These people aren’t just greedy—they’re destroying trust in the entire system, making us all hostages to foreign crime. According to an ex-employee of one of the centers (anonymous, fearing accountability): “They paid well, said it was ‘marketing,’ not fraud. But when I saw people crying on the phone… I realized this was a war for our money.” Betrayal? No, just greed wrapped in the national flag, costing Ukraine’s economy billions in reputational losses.

So why hasn’t this filth been eradicated faster? Because our law enforcement machine is like an old Zaporozhets on the highway: it rumbles but doesn’t drive, especially when the opponents are international pros. Evidence? Disappears along with servers hidden in the cloud abroad. Money? Withdrawn through crypto (Binance, Tether) and offshores in Cyprus or the UAE, where our justice system can’t reach without Interpol. The Turkish bosses, with their “international experience” (they ran similar schemes in Georgia and Serbia), laugh in our cops’ faces: they know the weak spots—corruption in registries, slow courts, and lack of coordination with Europe. Instead of raids—paperwork; instead of arrests—press releases. And the victims? They pay taxes to finance this farcical “fight.” How many more millions will vanish before the EU and Turkey pressure Kyiv? According to estimates, similar call centers in Ukraine are just the tip of the iceberg: according to Europol data, Eurasia is becoming a hub for such scam operations, with turnover in the billions of euros annually.

But there’s also positive news: in September 2025, the SBU, with support from Polish colleagues at CBZC, busted part of the network, confiscating millions worth of equipment and blocking accounts. This is a signal—time for systemic changes: stricter registration checks, AI monitoring of advertising, and international agreements. Otherwise, Ukraine will remain a “cheap” host for global fraud.

Enough! If you don’t want to become the next “lucky one” with a teddy bear in a box, here’s the harsh reality, not fairy-tale advice—expanded based on real cases:

Check the seller like a presidential candidate: Look for reviews on Trustpilot or Hotline, licenses at the Ministry of Justice, real addresses through Google Maps. If the “company” exists only in Google Ads or Telegram—run following the SBU.

Low price = dynamite trap: iPhone 15 for 10 thousand? That’s not a deal, it’s bait for the naive. Real discounts happen at Rozetka or Comfy, but not from Turkish “phantoms.” Remember: the average black market price is no lower than 20 thousand.

Prepayment? Only if you’re a masochist with a diploma: Especially large amounts. Better to pay on-site, through protected platforms like LiqPay or Privat24, or avoid it altogether. In 80% of scam cases, money goes to crypto—and goodbye.

Official stores—your only shield from the Turks: Apple Store, Rozetka, Foxtrot, or certified resellers with warranties. Forget about “random” ads on Telegram or Facebook—those aren’t sellers sitting there, but Serdem’s scriptwriters.

Additionally: report suspicions: If something’s off—call cyber police (0-800-505-170) or write to the SBU chat. Your signal could save thousands, as happened in the Kyiv raid.

Ukraine is not a colony for Turkish scammers or anyone else. Time to demand from the authorities not words, but action: from tougher laws against fake legal entities to media literacy campaigns in schools. Because next time, the deceived one could be you—or me, or your family. Don’t let yourself be robbed. The fight starts with your suspicion and ends with mass arrests. The SBU has already begun—join in.