Imagine being ten years old, sitting cross-legged on your bedroom carpet with a tablet glowing in front of you. You’ve just finished a round of your favorite online game, and a message pops up from a username you don’t recognize. They’re friendly. They ask how old you are, what games you like, whether you want to play together sometime. It feels exciting, almost flattering. Then, after a few days of chatting, they say they want to send you a gift—maybe some money for a new skin or a game upgrade. All they need is your bank details. To an adult, this might sound obviously suspicious. But to a child, it can feel like a genuine connection, a rare moment of being noticed and rewarded by someone cool. This is the precise moment that fraudsters are exploiting across the United Kingdom, and it is exactly why children as young as ten are now being taught to recognize the warning signs. Criminals are increasingly recruiting children to act as “money mules”—ordinary kids who allow their bank accounts to be used to move stolen cash. The statistics are sobering. According to the latest figures, one in five money-muling incidents in the UK last year involved someone under the age of 21. Even more alarming, almost one in 25 suspected money mules dealt with by the Financial Conduct Authority in 2025 were under the age of 18. These are not just numbers in a government report. They are real children, with real futures, who got caught in a trap they never saw coming.
The mechanics of a money-muling scam are deceptively simple, and that’s what makes them so dangerous. A child is approached online—through a game, a social media app, or a direct message—by someone who seems kind, generous, or just fun to talk to. The fraudster might offer a “job” or a “favour.” They might say, “I can’t access my own account right now, can you receive this money for me?” Or they might frame it as a thank-you gift, an allowance, or a prize. The child agrees, and suddenly a large sum of money lands in their bank account. Then they are asked to withdraw it, transfer it, or simply hold it for a while. In exchange, they are allowed to keep a small percentage as a reward. To a ten-year-old, this can feel like winning a lottery. It can also feel like helping someone in trouble. What they don’t understand is that the money is almost certainly stolen, and their account is being used as a laundering machine. The “gift” they keep is just a tiny slice of someone else’s suffering—money taken from a pensioner, a struggling family, or a small business. When the fraud is eventually uncovered, the child’s bank account can be frozen indefinitely. Banks may close their account entirely, making it nearly impossible for them to open another one later. They might be questioned by police. In some cases, they can face prosecution. The child, who was manipulated, lied to, and used, suddenly finds themselves treated as a criminal. They feel shame, confusion, and fear. Many are too embarrassed to tell their parents what happened. This is the dark reality of modern fraud: it doesn’t only steal money, it steals childhoods, reputations, and futures. Criminals choose children because they are trusting, eager to please, and not yet skilled at detecting deception. They study how kids talk, what games they play, what influencers they follow. They are patient, sophisticated, and ruthless. That’s why the response has to be just as sophisticated—and why teaching children to recognize exploitation is no longer optional. It is a necessary defense.
Earlier this year, police in the south-west of England developed a new lesson plan on financial exploitation, and it has now been made available to schools across the country. The lessons are tailored to different key stages, covering students between the ages of ten and eighteen, and they include four bespoke plans designed to fit into the school day. The goal is not to frighten children, but to empower them. The lessons are built around open, safe discussions, with support available for pupils who may have already been affected by scams. To see how this works in practice, Metro was welcomed into Gainsborough Primary School in east London, where teacher Andrew Miles delivered one of the very first lessons. In front of a group of ten- and eleven-year-olds—impressively attentive, eager to participate—he began by exploring the word “exploitation.” It’s a big word for a primary school classroom, but Miles made it accessible. He asked the pupils to split into pairs and discuss what “financial exploitation” might mean. Then came the part that really brought the lesson home. Each pair was given a sheet of paper with three cartoon faces on it. Attached to each face was a short story, a scenario, a warning sign. The pupils were asked to consider what was happening, why it might be wrong, and what the character in the story should do next. It was a simple exercise, but it was also deeply relevant to the lives these children lead. They all have screens. They all have access to games and apps. They have all, at some point, been told to be careful online. But being careful is not the same as understanding. This lesson was about giving them a framework, a set of questions to ask themselves: Is this normal? Is this safe? Should I tell someone? It was about teaching them that their instincts are valuable, and that they have the right to block a stranger, end a conversation, or walk away from a situation that feels wrong.
The stories on those worksheets were not abstract. One involved a girl named Farrah, a gamer who was playing online when a stranger sent her a message. They played together for a while, and the stranger was nice, funny, and easy to talk to. Then came the shift. They said they wanted to send Farrah some money as a thank-you for playing with them. All they needed was her bank details. It might sound obvious to an adult, but for a child, this can feel like a friendship milestone. Someone noticed me. Someone is grateful. Someone wants to give me something. The class at Gainsborough Primary, however, was not fooled. Hands went up. Heads shook. “That sounds fishy,” one child said. Another said Farrah should tell a trusted adult. The children understood that a stranger asking for bank details is a red flag, no matter how friendly they seem. This is exactly the kind of learning that could make all the difference. It’s not about making children paranoid about every person they meet online. It’s about giving them the confidence to recognize manipulation and the vocabulary to talk about it. The cartoon faces helped them engage with the material without feeling personally exposed. They could discuss Farrah’s situation safely, as a problem to solve, rather than a lecture to endure. By the end of the lesson, when the teacher asked the children to share what they remembered, the responses were full of new knowledge. They had absorbed words like “exploitation,” “scam,” and “fraud.” More importantly, they had internalized the key message: if someone online asks for your bank details, or asks you to receive and send money, that is not a game. That is a crime. And the people asking are not friends; they are predators. The classroom was calm, focused, and even optimistic. The children were learning a skill that will serve them for the rest of their lives—not just for protecting themselves, but for protecting their families, their friends, and their future financial wellbeing.
The person behind this educational push is Jordan Coates, fraud and cyber protect co-ordinator at the South West Regional Organised Crime Unit. She helped develop the lesson plan and watched it being delivered with a deep sense of purpose. “It’s a full package, start to finish,” she said. “We have open safe discussions, there’s support available, there’s different communication styles to deliver it in. Hopefully by the end of it, these pupils come away feeling empowered to stand up and challenge inappropriate behaviour, say hang on a minute, no, I’m not comfortable with this contact and seek that support. My hope at the end of this is that no child ever faces the harm that we see from this criminality.” Those words are not just about fraud prevention. They are about restoring power to children who are often the most vulnerable members of society. Criminals choose children because they are less likely to question authority, less likely to understand the legal consequences, and more likely to be swayed by small rewards or friendship. The lesson plan aims to turn that vulnerability into resilience. It gives teachers, parents, and carers the tools to talk about scams, to spot warning signs, and to know where to turn if a child discloses something worrying. Barb Sims, executive principal at Gainsborough Primary, was impressed by the lesson she observed. “I think it was an excellent lesson,” she said. “Andrew did really well, and the content was well-pitched, so I think they’ve taken a lot from it. At the end, where children were able to feed back and say what they remembered from it, they’d all gone away with lots of new information, which is really good.” The reaction from the school suggests that this kind of education is not just needed, but welcome. Children want to understand the world around them. They want to be safe. They want to know who to trust. And when they are given honest, age-appropriate information, they rise to the occasion.
Also watching the lesson from the front of the classroom was Lord Hanson, the minister for fraud, who is overseeing the rollout of the government’s Fraud Strategy, published in March. His presence signalled that this is a priority at the highest levels of government. “What we’re trying to do is to give people preparation,” he said. “The online world is a very good space, but it also potentially has some dangers and therefore, the earlier we get resilient, understanding of the potential difficulties, it’s really important for young people to do that.” Those words capture the spirit of the entire initiative. It is not about shutting down the internet or scaring children away from technology. It’s about preparing them to navigate a world that is full of both opportunity and risk. The same way we teach children to cross the road safely, to wear seatbelts, and to avoid talking to strangers, we must now teach them to be financially literate and digitally savvy. The threat of money muling is real, and it is growing. But the response is also growing. From police officers to teachers, from headteachers to government ministers, there is a recognition that children deserve better protection, and that education is the most powerful form of protection. As the lessons roll out across England, the hope is that more and more children will be able to spot the warning signs before they become victims. They will learn to pause, to question, to say no. They will learn to tell a trusted adult when something feels wrong. And they will learn that their bank account is not a toy, their identity is not a gift, and their trust is not something to be sold to the highest bidder. It is a heavy lesson for young shoulders. But in a world where fraudsters are constantly inventing new ways to exploit the vulnerable, it is also a necessary one. The children in that classroom in east London left with more than just worksheets. They left with a little bit of armour. And that is exactly what they will need.
