Picture this. You have returned to India after a long stay overseas. You have not even settled when you receive a phone call accusing you of committing a heinous crime and informing you that you are being investigated for a money laundering case. Before you can dismiss the event as a nightmare, you are shown arrest warrants.

Your bank account details are recited as if they were some mantra in a temple. And a senior officer from the CBI appears on a video call, ordering you to comply. What would you do? Do you think you will have any other option but to comply and agree to whatever you are being asked to do?

Well, this is not a fictional story. On July 17, 2025, two women in Bengaluru complied with instructions purportedly given by the police. One of the women, who was working in Thailand, had come to India to meet her friend.

When she tried to convince them that she could not be the one accused of money laundering, she was given details of her debit card and shown original and official-looking documents. The woman had no option but to believe. They were told that they were under digital arrest and that they would have to remain on a video call for 24 hours.

Over the next nine hours, they were mentally tortured and scammed out of money by fraudsters pretending to be police officers. They were instructed to remove their clothes as part of an online physical examination to identify birthmarks and moles. It all ended when the woman was able to establish contact with a friend.

Realising that it was a scam, the friend quickly advised her to end the call and stop responding to the criminals. Once they disconnected, the fraudsters tried to contact them again. They sent threatening messages containing their nude videos and photos, warning that they would leak them online. Scared as they were, whatever they had shared, the woman deleted everything.

A complaint was registered with the police. An investigation is underway. But do you think these women would ever be able to come out of the mental trauma? Would they ever regain the dignity and self-respect they lost in those few hours? The answer is "no."

This is the new face of cybercrime—known as "digital arrest" in common parlance. The numbers have continued to increase. In fact, data compiled by the Indian Cyber Crime Coordination Centre (I4C) shows that 39,925 cases were reported in 2022, resulting in financial losses of ?91 crores.

This number shot up to over 1.23 lakh cases in 2024, with total financial losses of ?1,935 crores. During the first two months of 2025 alone, over 17,700 cases were already reported, with losses exceeding ?210 crores. These figures reflect not only the scale but also the ease with which such crimes are being committed, albeit with impunity. It stands as a telling tale about how precarious our privacy, safety, and data protection systems truly are in this digital age.

While Artificial Intelligence (AI) is being considered a game-changer, it also brings with it a complex web of crime involving deepfakes, voice cloning, and encrypted digital payments that are hard to decipher, making it almost impossible to bring justice to the victims.

Now, many might think: how can educated people, like this woman, be defrauded? However, a closer look at the victims of digital arrest scams reveals that most have been doctors, entrepreneurs, professors, social media influencers, and other professionals. Clearly, they are a set of well-informed, digitally connected people who are often deeply aware of the world around them.

In other words, when it comes to psychological fear and assault, even the most educated people can fall prey. People agree to the demands of the criminals not out of ignorance, but out of fear, and the conditioning with which most of us have been brought up: never question the authority of a police officer, never get entangled in a legal case, and always avoid public disgrace.

In most cases, people not only lost their hard-earned money but also their privacy, dignity, and self-respect. Not to forget the psychological trauma—something that cannot be quantified, but has the potential to leave life-long scars.

In fact, the term "digital arrest" has not been defined under Indian law. The term originated due to the way it restricts the movement of people, despite the absence of criminals from the crime scene, who often exude authenticity by pretending to be vehicles of law enforcement agencies, proficient in not only legal language but also in utilising technology.

The crime scene is enacted online, leaving little evidence for any forensic team to investigate, unless the team knows how to decipher the complex world of the web and deepfakes. The criminals do not need weapons but a voice—either cloned or original—a mobile device, a forged letterhead, a video call, and the ability to exploit human vulnerability. The crime ranges from money laundering to narcotics, to child pornography, to human trafficking, and so on.

If one tries to resist, it is met with threats of FIRs, court notices, and social media exposure. The illusion is so carefully crafted that even educated urban professionals struggle to escape it easily. In fact, it appears criminals are safer than victims, as they often use VoIP (Voice over Internet Protocol) calls routed through international networks to fake local police station numbers.

And when victims report, they often face scepticism or apathy from local law enforcement agencies, which are constrained by complexities such as confusion over jurisdiction, understaffed cyber cells, and a lack of the training and technological advancements required to solve such cases.

Of course, the Indian Cyber Crime Coordination Centre (I4C) has been working to track scam-linked digital identities. The Ministry of Home Affairs has issued various advisories. We also have a national helpline (1930) and a cybercrime reporting portal. But these tools are often underused and underpublicised.

We do not have a comprehensive law that addresses the full scope of digital impersonation and coercive online fraud. The IT Act, or even the newer Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, are not sufficient to tackle such complex crimes. They do not have the paraphernalia required to tackle AI-generated scams, voice-based manipulation, or psychological captivity under a fake "arrest."

Besides the immediate need for relevant amendments in the law, our law enforcement agencies need to be trained not just in technology, but also in empathy, while dealing with such cases where victims have gone through immense mental and psychological trauma.

Not only this, but platforms like WhatsApp, Skype, Telegram, and even Zoom must rise to the occasion and upgrade their systems with scam-detection mechanisms. Telecom companies need to tighten procedures around SIM issuance, and payment apps must strengthen their fraud detection protocols.

But beyond law and platforms, the biggest weapon we have is awareness. Just as we taught people to wash their hands during a pandemic or participate in the Swachh Bharat Abhiyan, we must now teach them to be cautious of unexpected calls from "officials." Whether you are a student, a homemaker, a professional, or a senior citizen, everyone should know that no police officer or CBI official can demand payment over the phone. No medical examination can ever be conducted via a video call.

The Bengaluru case should serve as a wake-up call—not just for law enforcement agencies or policymakers, but also for every citizen of this country. If two educated and well-articulate women in a metro city could be held hostage in their own homes through a screen, it could happen to anyone.

Cybercrime has evolved. It is no longer just about phishing emails or credit card fraud. It is now about impersonation, psychological coercion, and emotional blackmail. Our response must also evolve—legally, psychologically, and technologically. And so must our awareness campaigns.