The timing could not have been better. It was Christmas 2013 and Donald Craig had just received his annual timeshare bill.
On top of all the seasonal expenses, he had no idea how he was going to pay it.
For years, Donald, a 68-year-old retired Rolls-Royce manager and his wife Debra, 64, an NHS nurse, had taken holidays with their timeshare points, enjoying sunshine breaks in Tenerife, Portugal and the Caribbean.
But gradually the admin and maintenance costs had been creeping up. They’d gone from £600 to more than £4,000 and, quite frankly, the couple couldn’t afford them any more.
But in a story that will sound woefully familiar to millions who got caught up in the rapacious timeshare boom of the 1980s and 1990s, getting out of the contract was proving impossible.
So when Donald got a call out of the blue from a firm called Sell My Timeshare, promising a quick, easy and profitable exit, by ‘trading in’ their credits, he thought it was a Christmas wish come true.
‘I’ve no idea how they got hold of my details,’ says Donald today.
What he realises now, however, is that the timing of that phone call was no accident. It was, in fact, a cruel, convoluted and carefully executed scam, preying on vulnerable people, just like them, at the most expensive time of the year.
The couple found themselves lured into a trap that would, over the next decade, cost them around £100,000 of their savings, their health and their faith in humanity.
Donald and Debra Craig got swept up in the admin and maintenance costs associated with their timeshare
The couple had taken holidays with their timeshare points, enjoying sunshine breaks in Tenerife, Portugal and the Caribbean
For the company calling them that day was actually run by a gang of 14 ruthless fraudsters who went on to dupe more than 3,500 pensioners out of £28 million.
Nearly 500 victims lost more than £10,000. Most were aged between 60 and 80, the eldest being 94.
Many died while waiting for justice, having been trapped in ‘a living nightmare’.
On Friday, at Southwark Crown Court, Nicola Rowe, 54, wife of the shameless company director, Mark Rowe, also 54, became one of the final people to be sentenced in the case, following a six-year investigation by the South West Regional Organised Crime Squad. She received a two-year-suspended jail sentence for money laundering, a charge she’d admitted.
Her husband, Mark, was jailed for seven-and-a-half years in January, after he was found guilty of conspiracy to defraud.
Passing sentence, Judge Alexander Milne called him ‘profoundly dishonest’ and a ‘corrupting influence’ who’d ‘left a trail of misery’.
And if any of their victims were in any doubt as to where their money had gone, the court heard it spelled out very clearly.
The Rowes had £8 million of victims’ cash hidden across 54 bank accounts, and enjoyed an almost farcical jet set lifestyle, splashing out on homes in Tenerife and a £2.4million home in Hampshire, complete with stables and a £56,000 Bang and Olufsen sound system.
They invested £185,000 in artwork, including a £31,500 pencil sketch by LS Lowry, while their two children enjoyed a private school education costing £110,000.
There were shopping trips to Selfridges and Harvey Nichols, spending £3,600 on designer clothing and £9,000 on watches while staying at a Dorchester Hotel suite costing £1,000 a night.
In one trip alone, the couple blew £26,000 on a private jet flight, posing for pictures by the plane to brag of their wealth on Facebook.
So how had they done it?
It was what detectives call a ‘bait and switch scam’: victims were baited with the promise of one thing, then aggressively persuaded into signing up to something else, in a slick and highly complicated fraud.
Donald and Debra were typical prey. The couple, from Derby, had first invested £7,000 in a one week’s worth of timeshare points after being approached in a shopping centre in 2002. But every time they went on holiday, the couple were pestered on their sunloungers for yet more money.
‘The resorts were very good, we didn’t have any problems with them, although when you were there you couldn’t get away from the marketeers,’ Donald recalls.
Eventually, Donald and Debra were persuaded to invest another £20,000 until they had five weeks of holiday points. They were told the extra points to stay in smart resorts with golf courses would be so sought after that their four children, friends and fellow golfers would be desperate to rent them.
At the time, Donald had taken voluntary redundancy from Rolls-Royce. ‘We were looking for a little extra income and I had the money from my severance package,’ he says. But they struggled to rent the properties.
Meanwhile, the timeshare company, Diamond Resorts, was charging ever-increasing fees.
After a last holiday in 2010, the Craigs had had enough.
Mark and Nicola Rowe had £8 million of victims’ cash hidden across 54 bank accounts
Nicola received a two-year-suspended jail sentence for money laundering, while her husband was jailed for seven-and-a-half years in January for conspiracy to defraud
‘We were in a tough position. It started to weigh heavily on us, I was fed up and wanted to get out.
‘I’d approached Diamond about exiting but was told I’d signed up for life. I got the impression that even if we died we couldn’t get out of it and our membership – with the bills – would pass to our children.’
He was exactly the sort of desperate owner that Sell My Timeshare was looking for.
‘They invited us to Tenerife, paying for the flights and accommodation, to talk about getting out of my timeshare. We agreed to go.
The offices near Playa Fañabé, a popular beach in Costa Adeje known for its golden sands, seemed impressive. As were the firm’s credentials. Ex-Hollyoaks actress Julie Peasgood was unwittingly hired to promote the firm in glossy adverts.
Once caught in the web, however, victims were introduced to a new platform aptly called Monster Credits. Billed as a travel investment scheme to save 75 per cent off holiday accommodation, retail and flights, victims were told that they need to purchase these holiday vouchers in order to get help to sell their timeshare.
Slick marketeers explained that while their timeshare was being sold to an apparently booming Russian market, the voucher scheme would mature in 14 months when it would be worth double the investment.
The glossy brochure promised: ‘Imagine having the freedom to dream, imagine how much money you would save if you owned your own travel company, imagine where in the world you could travel to, that dream is now a reality for Monster customers.’
In sales meetings lasting up to six hours in Tenerife, Bournemouth, York and Stratford-upon-Avon, victims were put under enormous pressure to sign, investing as much as £80,000.
One victim, June Paige, described being ‘taken to the cleaners’.
‘I was put under pressure and they refused us to be allowed to go to buy lunch! It all sounded believable and above board,’ she said.
Another client, Jane Jessup, recalled: ‘I feel silly at being taken in by these people but I believed that the company was genuine, it had such a glossy feel to it.’
The Craigs were persuaded to invest £14,500, which they were told they could not lose. ‘I had to take out finance and paid by bank transfer. The money went to a bank in Latvia, which did surprise me a little bit, but we were in a corner.’
When the voucher pack arrived offering credit for well-known brands such as John Lewis and Argos, victims who tried to cash them in discovered they were fake.
As for the expert help to sell their timeshare, it turned out to amount to little more than being told to write a letter to Diamond Resorts asking to leave.
But worse was to come.
When the 14 months had elapsed they heard nothing more from Monster Credits. Their investment was unsellable. Like thousands of other pensioners lured in, the Craigs were left wondering where their money had gone.
For the Craigs, the financial mire they found themselves in left them reliant on anti-depressants.
In 2015, they finally found a way to exit the timeshare: ‘We got our doctor to write to Diamond Resorts saying we were at the end of our tether and we got out on ill-health grounds,’ Donald said.
But Rowe and his pitiless team hadn’t finished with them.
In 2018, Donald received a call from a firm that claimed it could help victims of Monster Credits.
Again they were invited to Tenerife and found themselves in the very same offices where Mark Rowe had spun his sales pitch.
‘At the beginning, they gave us coffee and a pastry and, as we were having a casual conversation, the rep asked us what we wanted from today’s business. When he said “today”, I knew it was going to be a long meeting,’ said Donald.
The Rowes invested £185,000 in artwork – including a £31,500 pencil sketch by LS Lowry
The criminal couple also had a £2.4million home in Hampshire, complete with stables and a £56,000 Bang and Olufsen sound system
‘I said I’d like my money back. The response was that in terms of compensation they’d make an introduction to a no-win no-fee firm called Lansdown Financial.
‘We were told that Lansdown’s fee would be quite substantial and come out of any compensation we got. However, they said that we could reduce the fee by investing in a company called Staycation Lodges.’
The Craigs were told that by making yet another property investment, they could finally get their money back.
‘The emphasis was this wasn’t a fly-by-night Spanish operation, we would be protected by UK law and it wasn’t timeshare, it was in effect a property investment,’ he said.
‘By investing we’d pay less commission to Lansdown Financial for getting money back from Monster Credits, that was the sweetener. We’d also get a portion of the rental income from the lodges.’ The couple put £6,892 into Staycation Lodges. But this firm, like the shady compensation firm Lansdown Financial, turned out to be yet another scam run by Rowe.
In late 2019, the Craigs received their only rental payment from Staycation, amounting to £937, which was reduced by a ‘management invoice’ of £613.
They never received a penny in compensation for the Monster Credits disaster.
In 2020, the couple paid £720 to leave Staycation Lodges.
‘We didn’t get back any of the £6,892, that was money down the drain,’ Donald said.
Desperate to get some money back, the Craigs invested £9,000 to another unscrupulous timeshare compensation operation that claimed that it was pursuing a criminal case against Monster Credits in Madrid.
But then Donald was contacted by the South West Regional Organised Crime Unit who informed him that they were building a case against the Rowes in the UK, and there was no criminal action taking place in Spain.
Fortunately, Donald was able to retrieve the £9,000 he had paid, bas it had been done by credit card.
Even now, the Craigs still receive cold calls from other dodgy compensation recovery companies hoping to profit from Rowe’s lucrative business model.
‘It’s a dirty business, you don’t know who to trust,’ Donald said.
‘During the hearings, heartbreaking stories emerged of the victims whose lives have been destroyed.
One, Michael Hartley, provided a witness statement as he was starting his fifth month of chemotherapy after being diagnosed with leukaemia and skin cancer.
‘First of all, I personally feel embarrassed for being taken in,’ he said. ‘The stress I have personally suffered added to my condition.’
Peter Stratford believes the fraud contributed to his wife’s death from cancer in 2017: ‘Dealing with Sell My Timeshare caused my wife considerable stress which I believe only contributed to her illness.
The 12 other conspirators received sentences ranging from four-and-a-half years in prison, to suspended jail sentences for charges including conspiracy to defraud to fraud by misrepresentation.
The convictions follow four trials held over two years at Southwark Crown Court.
On Friday, Judge Alexander Milne said to Nicola Rowe: ‘You benefited from the scheme contrived and run by your husband over a lengthy period of time. I have no doubt that you lived well off the strength of that.’
As for the Craigs, this Christmas will not be the one they’d envisaged, all those years ago.
‘We are still being chased by these “recovery” people. I now just say “please go away”.
‘We’re now retired. It’s not the retirement we wanted, we are still under the shadow of this.’
Additional reporting: Andrew Penman