Episode 4: When Fighting Back Got Dangerous
The day after my Facebook post went viral, I woke up to find that the loan app agents had shifted gears.
This time, they weren’t just threatening me personally — they were trying to destroy my character publicly.
Someone — probably one of them — created a fake Twitter account
Then started tweeting things like:
“She’s a scammer, she collects tfare from guys and fails to show up!“
“Proud fraudster!“
They tagged major blogs, influencers.
I was horrified.
This wasn’t just blackmail anymore.
It was a full-on smear campaign.
By midday, a popular gossip blog had picked up the fake tweets and posted a story:
“Tfare Scammer Exposed!”
They used my real photo.
They used fake credit alerts.
Within minutes, I was trending for the worst reasons.
Hundreds of angry comments flooded the blog post:
“Lock her up!”
“See her face! Shame!”
“Typical yahoo girl behavior!”
Each comment was like a knife stabbing my soul.
I sat on my bed, hands trembling, mouth dry.
How was I supposed to fight this?
I knew the truth.
But online, perception is everything.
And right now, the internet saw me as a criminal.
I spent the next few hours doing damage control.
First, I updated my viral Facebook post with screenshots of the fake Twitter account, explaining it wasn’t true.
I begged people not to believe the lies.
Some people believed me.
Some didn’t.
That’s the internet for you —
Once a lie spreads, it sticks like stubborn oil.
Later that night, I received another threat message:
“Since you want to be stubborn, we will deal with you properly. Pay ₦100,000 by tomorrow morning or your life will become hell. Last warning!“
₦100,000?
They kept increasing the amount like it was a joke!
I stared at the message, feeling a dangerous calm settle over me.
I wasn’t paying a kobo.
Not a single naira.
If they wanted war, they would get it — but they would not get another dime from me.
I took a few more steps to protect myself:
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I activated two-factor authentication on all my social media accounts.
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I told my boss everything — this time face-to-face.
(Surprisingly, he was understanding. He promised to handle any gossip within the office.) -
I informed my close friends and family members to block strange numbers and ignore any messages about me.
Most importantly, I decided to document everything:
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Every threat.
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Every fake post.
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Every call log.
I kept screenshots, voice notes, and emails in a secure folder.
If this ever escalated legally, I wanted solid evidence.
Meanwhile, strangers kept messaging me — some victims of the same loan apps, some just offering encouragement.
One girl, Blessing, sent me a long message:
“Sis, thank you for speaking out. I thought I was going crazy when they did the same thing to me last month. You’re braver than you know.“
It made me tear up.
For the first time since this nightmare started, I felt something stronger than fear:
Hope.
Maybe — just maybe — if I kept pushing, they would back off.
Maybe I could survive this.
But just as I started to feel a little stronger, they played their dirtiest card yet.
They called my aging mother directly.
And they told her that I was about to be arrested for fraud.
My mother — sweet, innocent Mama Efe —
She fainted when she heard the news.
Neighbors rushed her to the clinic.
My sister called me, screaming into the phone:
“Look what you’ve caused! Mama is in the hospital!“
I collapsed into a chair, numb, shaking.
This wasn’t just about me anymore.
This was about my family.
And I knew, at that moment, that I couldn’t take chances anymore.
I had to find a way to end this — before it truly destroyed everything I loved.
