Teenagers scrolling through social media feeds are increasingly being drawn into a shadow economy that promises quick cash but leaves long-term scars—financial, legal and psychological—often before they fully understand the risks.
A Crime That Looks Like Opportunity
On Instagram, the advertisements are deliberately ordinary. A photo of cash held in manicured hands. A caption asking, “Do you want to make quick money today?” To young people accustomed to influencer culture and “side hustles,” such posts do not always register as criminal.
But law enforcement officials, fraud specialists and children’s charities say these messages are often the front door to money muling—a form of money laundering in which criminals recruit intermediaries to move stolen or fraudulent funds through their bank accounts. The intermediary receives a commission; the organizers remain hidden.
Official data suggests the scale is growing rapidly. In 2024, the Financial Conduct Authority reported that more than 207,000 personal accounts were used for money muling, a 22 percent increase from the year before, based on figures from 37 financial institutions. The highest proportion of those involved—33 percent—were aged 22 to 29.
Behind those numbers, experts say, lies a younger and less visible population. The fraud prevention service Cifas estimates that at least 19 percent of identified money mules are under 21. The real figure, specialists argue, is likely higher, because cases involving children under 16 are not systematically recorded.
Grooming, Not Just Scams
Children’s charities describe recruitment tactics that resemble grooming more than traditional fraud. According to James Simmonds-Read, national programme manager at The Children’s Society, young people regularly encounter fake job adverts on social media and online gaming platforms. Recruiters pose as friends with shared interests, build trust, and then ask for help moving money—often describing it as “risk free.”
“It’s really hard to get an accurate picture of the scale of this problem,” Simmonds-Read said, because available data is “the tip of the iceberg.”
Warning signs, he said, can include unexplained new clothes or gifts, an intense focus on making money online, secrecy around phones and apps, unusual banking activity, or pressure to open a bank account. Yet parents and teachers may miss these signals, particularly when the activity is framed as work rather than crime.
Simmonds-Read has been working with the Home Office, which has pledged to take action on child exploitation and money muling, including reconsidering the language used. The term “money mule,” he argues, risks dehumanizing victims by “comparing them to animals.”
‘I Wanted Quick Money’
For Derai, the consequences unfolded quickly. At 19, he was eager to earn enough to move from Manchester to London and launch a modelling career. When he responded to an Instagram post advertising fast cash, he was soon connected to a recruiter. He shared his bank details and identification. Money arrived within days.
When he tried to withdraw it, his card was swallowed by the machine. His account was closed. A Cifas marker was placed on his record for six years, making it nearly impossible to open another bank account. For work, he relied on his mother’s account, worried about the impression it created
“It was a bit miserable,” he said. “I was a bit depressed, frustrated that I’d done it.”
After 10 months, Derai persuaded the financial ombudsman to remove the marker. The recruitment messages, however, never stopped.
“I’ve learned, I’ve grown,” he said. “I wouldn’t do it now.”
Fraud specialists say many young people do not realize the potential penalties. Some face prosecution and prison sentences of up to 14 years; others are “debanked,” cut off from basic financial services including mortgages and loans.
A Generation Exposed
Nicola Harding, a fraud expert at the University of Lancaster, describes money muling as “probably one of the biggest threats to young people now.” Over the past five years, she said, it has grown rapidly—fueled by social media and a culture saturated with “get rich quick” narratives.
Young people, Harding noted, have grown up seeing online schemes that promise effortless wealth. When criminals approach them, the proposition does not always look obviously illegal.
“If you said to that same person, ‘That woman has a bag of cash, knock her over,’ they never would,” she said.
Jeremy Asher, a financial fraud lawyer and founder of the Financial Fraud Awareness Campaign, said parents should be particularly vigilant during school holidays, when cases tend to spike. He has seen what he describes as “an alarming number” of young people drawn in, often without a clear understanding of what they are being asked to do.
As digital technologies continue to outpace regulation—online scams now account for roughly 40 percent of recorded crime, according to senior policing figures—the challenge, experts argue, is not only enforcement but education. Preventative lessons, Simmonds-Read said, need to begin at primary school age, before the promise of easy money has time to harden into habit.
