Imagine that a woman shows up at the front door of your house one day and says, "I'm here to see the home for rent that was advertised on craigslist. Can I take a look around?"

This might be a normal thing to hear if you had actually advertised your house for rent on craigslist, but what if you hadn't and were instead being scammed by someone else looking to make a buck off of gullible renters? This particular scam has surged in popularity lately, even reaching to the very hatch of the Ars Orbiting HQ. In the interest of journalism, we decided to indulge our scammer to see where the scenario would lead.

Knock, knock

The story began in late July when Technical Director Kurt Mackey received a knock on his door from someone asking to view the inside of the home he just purchased. He asked the woman where she had learned that his house was for rent; she told him that it was listed on craigslist. Then he got another knock. And another.

People were driving in from around the Chicagoland area to see this wonderful house that was listed for $700/month—a steal. These frequent visits quickly become an inconvenience, forcing Kurt to post a sign on his door sending prospective renters away.

In reality, it was a Nigerian scammer who had listed Kurt's house for rent. The home rental scam has grown so popular that it has even generated a public warning from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Scammers, often from outside the country, pick up on real estate listings online, yank the pictures and details, and voila: a new craigslist ad.

Scammers count on renters to communicate with them largely over e-mail and commit to sending a "security deposit" to Africa—where the scammer has allegedly had to go on short notice due to family or missionary concerns—before ever finding out that the place doesn't even belong to the scammer.

Kurt's scammer, going by the name of Engel, fit this profile perfectly. I played the role of house hunter and responded to Engel's ad, asking for more information about the house. Engel was quick to explain to me why "she" was no longer living in it. "The house is still available but presently I'm not around.. I did bid for a portion of petroleum land sometimes ago in West Africa and fortunately I won the bidding so I have to move quickly down to Africa to have my company set up," she wrote.

Engel explained that she and her husband had built the house with their own hands when they got married and cared deeply for the property. "We are not after the rental fee but the absolute care for the property. Please note than you will only be able to drive by the house for now but not have a look at the interior until i have sent the keys and documents of the house to you... and the requirement for getting the keys and documents of the house is a fully refundable payment of $700 USD, which is the security deposit."

Attached was a renter's application form asking for typical information such as my full name, address, phone number, current employer, marital status, what kinds of pets I have—and, of course, when I plan on sending the $700 security deposit to Nigeria via Western Union. I filled out the application and proceeded to explain to Engel my situation:

"Hi Engel, Thank you for your response! I am very interested in renting the house, but I have some concerns. I play in a heavy metal band and we make lots of noise—will the neighbors be agreeable to our band playing only at night hours when it is quiet? I am not currently married, although I get around (if you know what I mean) and have people over all the time. I take very good care of the places I rent, except for that one time, but the court let me off with a restraining order. I would make a very reliable tenant. I can send you the $700 deposit immediately if you choose me as your tenant. I don't have any pets except for several rats who are my best friends, and we would be happy to take care of your house for you. Please let me know when you decide ASAP! Thank you!"

Surprise of surprises—I was accepted! Not only that, but that there's an extra room I could use for anything I want. "I want you to know that i'm satisfied with your profile and also believe l can trust in you because l will not like to experience what l experienced from my last tenant again, l showed your profile to my husband and daughter, they said they are ok with it," Engel wrote. "We will come and pay you a visit after you have moved into my House to see how you are maintaining it, I will be receiving the first months deposit payment from you via Western Union because l think it reliable, secured and fast, l wish you best of luck in your work, from your profile l can see that you are responsible and a hard working person may the almighty God bless you in what ever you wish to do."

I told Engel that my band, my rats, and I were all thrilled to be able to move into the house, and that the news about the extra room was very welcome—"I can totally use that as my grow room, or maybe even cook up some meth. Would you and your family be okay with that? I could even hook you up sometime when you're back in the US."

I did, however, have a few questions, mostly relating to the whole Western Union thing. After all—I can't afford to wire $700 to a Nigerian just for the sake of an article. Plus, as a renter, I would never wire someone money without seeing the place first. I asked Engel if I could do a walkthrough of the house before sending the deposit and whether she would accept personal checks. "I don't have access to a Western Union and can't easily drive there, as my driver's license was suspended last year for a DUI," I wrote. "Thank you, and God bless YOU, Engel."

This must have been the tipping point for the scammer—was it the meth?—because she did not respond to my e-mail. I pressed her again a few days later, which got a response reiterating that I must wire transfer the $700 deposit in order to get the keys to the place, end of story.

I tried to provoke her further by asking flat out how I could be sure she wasn't a scammer and how I might get my deposit back, but it didn't work. Engel dropped me like a hot potato and never responded to further e-mails.

The truth is, I'm not an experienced scam baiter, and while many Nigerian scammers can provide some temporary entertainment, they're not (usually) stupid. They can tell when they're beginning to get jerked around, and you have to be a semi-pro to reel them back in after they begin to suspect you. After all, there are legions of people who are on a nonstop quest to scam the scammers—scammers are going to walk away from time to time.

The whole experience was entertaining in its own twisted way, though I'm not the one whose house was being advertised for rent. Kurt wasn't nearly so amused.