Mary was in the kitchen, carefully following a recipe from My Mother’s Kitchen on YouTube. Today’s dish was her favorite—raw plantain mezhukkupuratti*. She sprinkled a little more salt, gave the stir-fry a final stir, and covered the pan. Done.

Just as she stepped out of the kitchen, her phone buzzed.

Ping!

Mary glanced at the screen. The sender made her pause—Rev. Thomas Karivara.

“Oh dear… Father’s message? That’s unusual. Why would he be texting me?”

With curiosity and a hint of nervousness, she opened it.

Rev. Thomas Karivara: “Mary, this is Fr. Thomas Karivara. Please, I need some urgent help.”

Mary: “What is it, Father?”

Rev. Thomas Karivara: “This is serious. I’m in a meeting in Denver and can’t talk. Please don’t call me back, and don’t tell anyone I asked for help. I didn’t message anyone else.”

Mary: “OK.”

Rev. Thomas Karivara: “I need Apple cards to give to sisters who are caring for cancer patients. They need funds for treatment. I’ll repay you when I return.”

Mary: “How much?”

Rev. Thomas Karivara: “Five Apple cards of $100 each. Just send me the card numbers and serials.”

Mary: “Alright, I’ll buy them and get back to you.”

Rev. Thomas Karivara: “Thank you.”

Without hesitation, Mary rushed out and bought the cards. Her mind was fixed on one thing—getting them to Father as soon as possible. She barely noticed the world around her.

When she returned home, her husband Chackochan was waiting.

“Mary, where did you go?” he asked.

“Father Thomas needed urgent help,” she explained. “He asked me to buy Apple cards worth five hundred dollars and send him the copies.”

“Mary… did you send them?”

“No, not yet. I haven’t taken the copies. Can you do that for me?”

“Let me see the cards first.”

Mary handed them over. Chackochan’s expression changed. His eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the messages. Something seemed very odd. The style, the tone, and the phone number. Suspicion blazed in his mind.

“This isn’t Father’s number,” he muttered. “Something’s wrong.”

He paused for a while and called Captain Mario Gomez, a friend in the Baltimore City Police. After a quick briefing, Gomez confirmed his worst fear: this was the work of a cybercrime ring.

Wasting no time, Chackochan dialed Father Thomas directly.

“Chackocha! How are you? How’s the Catch Me business? It’s been ages since we talked!” Father’s cheerful voice rang out.

“All business, Father. Hardly any time,” Chackochan replied casually—then shifted gears. “But tell me, did you send Mary a message this morning?”

There was silence. Then a startled gasp.

“Mary said I messaged her? Impossible! The only message I sent today was to the Archdiocese in Chicago. This must be—”

“Yes, Father,” Chackochan interrupted firmly. “A scam. Mary already bought five Apple cards, just as ‘you’ asked. Thankfully, I caught it before she sent them out. Someone tried to defraud us using your name. But don’t worry—the police are on it. Their days are numbered.”

Father’s voice trembled. “God bless you, Chackocha…”

---

But the blessing carried a shadow. The fraudsters were still out there, faceless and hidden, part of a vast web of cybercriminals spread across the globe.

And Mary’s innocent trust had almost made her their next victim.

• A dry stir-fry dish from Kerala