🧾 Receipts
What I saw. What I missed. What I know now.
When Fallon vanished, I was worried. I assumed something had happened like an emergency, a mental health crisis, or even a family situation. That made more sense than my friend of 15 years simply disappearing.
But what I found wasn’t a crisis. It was a slow, intentional trail of deception dating back to ~2020. And once I started paying attention, the truth was everywhere.
Concern & Confusion
At first, I thought something happened to her.
We used to talk almost every day—calls, FaceTimes, texts.
From winter 2022 through spring 2023, Fallon was actively promising to pay me back. She always had a reason for the delay. I believed her.
But by fall 2023, she had completely vanished. No replies. No updates. This message exchange with her mom is from October 13, 2023, after nearly two months of total silence.
I was still hopeful. Still giving her the benefit of the doubt. But her mom’s response was cold. No concern. No accountability.
And now I know it wasn’t just a family protecting their daughter.
This felt like coordinated silence.
The Excuses
At First, It Sounded Normal.
The messages didn’t come across as evasive. She explained delays in detail, gave updates, and stayed in touch.
From late 2022 through early 2023, Fallon maintained regular contact with me. She acknowledged that she owed me money, apologized for the delay, and shared specific reasons—client delays, pending transfers, and account issues.
This didn’t feel like avoidance. It felt like trust. I’d been there before with my own clients. I knew what it was like to be waiting on payment.
She messaged me on holidays. She said she’d make the payments. And I believed her.
This was the first layer of deception: not lies that were easy to catch—but lies that were so ordinary, they sounded like real life.
She gave a full breakdown of what the credit card company said, down to the billing cycle. It sounded like someone who had a plan.
Christmas Day 2022. She said the money would clear soon and thanked me for checking in. I offered to send her cash if needed because that’s what we always did for each other.
January 6, 2023. Still following up. Still saying it’s coming.
February 19, 2023. The last detailed promise to pay. She asked me to call the bank to help her cancel a payment I’d already scheduled.
These messages show only a fraction of what was said. Fallon and I had multiple conversations—on the phone, over FaceTime—where she clearly acknowledged the debt and promised to make it right.
I didn’t dance around the issue. I asked directly. And she responded with what felt like transparency.
I truly believed she was going through a rough patch, and because of our history, I gave her time and grace.
But looking back now, it wasn’t delay. It was deception.
The PatterN
This wasn’t just about me. It was a strategY. I wasn’t the only one.
For a long time, I thought this was just a one-off. A rough patch. A delayed payment between friends.
But in spring 2024, after talking with several mutual friends, I realized it wasn’t just me.
Fallon had been borrowing money, using credit cards without permission, making promises to repay, and then vanishing.
The pattern was always the same: urgency, reassurance, silence.
I was stunned. I thought, this must be a mental health crisis. Something had to be wrong. So I reached out to her mom again, hoping to get clarity.
But this time, I got no response at all.
That’s when I knew.
The Realization
They Knew. They said nothing. And that told me EVERYTHING.
By this point, I wasn’t just worried. I was starting to understand.
When Fallon vanished, I gave her space. When she missed a payment, I gave her time. When she stopped responding, I gave her grace. I assumed something was wrong.
Contacting Fallon’s Parents
When I reached out to Fallon’s mom, Dorcas Ukpe, in October 2023, she responded, but the tone was off. Brief. Cold. Like I was being handled.
I followed up again in March 2024. This time, Mrs. Ukpe didn’t respond at all. I called. She picked up and then hung up.
I messaged her dad. He was warm and kind, but I was still being handled. He thanked me for being patient. Called me “daughter.” Promised to speak to her. But even he wasn’t asking real questions. He wasn’t horrified. He just wanted things to stay calm.
Her mom responded—but the warmth was gone. When I followed up in March, she never replied.
Her dad responded with kindness and distance. He thanked me for being patient. But no one asked about what she’d done.
Finally, I spoke with her brother. And he told me:
“Fallon’s okay. She knows people are looking for her. She’s just taking some time to herself.”
He said he was encouraging her to talk to me. That I’d always been around. That he hoped she would come around.
But come around when? It had been more than a year. And what about the other people—friends she owed long before me?
People whose credit cards she used without their permission.
While she was gallivanting across countries with me, she was actively dodging others. Already breaking promises. Already ghosting.
For so long, I worried that something was wrong. But now I saw it clearly:
Nothing was wrong. This was her plan.
What I learned
What Fallon did wasn’t just about money. It was about trust.
I’ve lost thousands of dollars. But what’s harder to explain is the emotional toll—worrying for her safety, replaying conversations, questioning my own judgment.
I kept wondering: How could someone I loved and celebrated for 15 years turn around and use me like this?
Now I know—this kind of manipulation doesn’t happen in the open. It’s slow. Layered. Intentional.
If you’ve experienced something similar, you’re not alone.
I’m sharing this because the silence protects people like her. And I’m done being silent.
Have You Been Betrayed Like This?
Whether it was a friend, partner, family member, or boss—if you’ve been misled, manipulated, or financially exploited by someone you trusted, I want to hear your story.
Even if you’re not ready to go public, know this: you’re not crazy. You’re not overreacting. And you’re definitely not alone.