how a friend in treasury helped claw back a $760,000 term deposit scam

When Melbourne woman Jacomi lost her husband, she thought his life insurance would keep her family safe. Instead, she became the victim of a sophisticated term deposit scam. Her relentless fight—helped by a friend who worked in Treasury officials and A Current Affair—makes her one of the few survivors to get their money back. Her story exposes the deep cracks in Australia’s banking and scam response systems

When Jacomi Du Preez’s husband was killed in a tragic car accident, she sunk to her knees in despair.

Just three months later when she found out that criminals had scammed the $760,000 life insurance payout she needed to buy a house for her two kids, she sunk to her knees again.

Jacomi was devastated to learn the Macquarie Bank term deposit she transferred the money into had all been an elaborate scam, complete with a fake Macquarie Bank website, call centre and emails.

As a finance professional herself, Jacomi had no reason to doubt that she was opening a genuine bank term deposit - after all, Macquarie didn’t have a branch she could go to.

She was devastated to learn her own bank refused to check the validity of the account she believed was being opened in her own name and instead paid a criminal.

Her money was funneled through layers of accounts and platforms designed to obscure its trail. When Jacomi realised the truth, she described the shock as identical to the moment she learned of her husband’s death.

What followed was a desperate fight. She had gone into her bank to make the transfer, presenting the documents, emails, and account details. Yet Commonwealth Bank told her it was her responsibility to check if the account was genuine.

The money vanished into a maze of payment platforms. Jacomi, drawing on her professional background and with the help of a contact in Treasury, painstakingly traced the path until it hit a cryptocurrency exchange.

There, through persistence, public pressure, and with the intervention of A Current Affair, she managed to convince the exchange to freeze the funds—just in time. “If I had called a day later, it would have been gone forever.”

Even then, the ordeal left deep scars. Jacomi endured months of insomnia, anxiety, and guilt. She needed medication to function. Everyday transactions, even buying something online or transferring funds for a property purchase, triggered panic attacks.

She was left to cope not only with grief for her husband, but also with the trauma of financial betrayal and the weight of explaining to her children how their father’s life insurance had been stolen.

Jacomi is one of the few lucky survivors—she got her money back. But she insists it wasn’t thanks to the banks.

“Let’s be clear: the bank did not get my money back. I did, she says.

She is outraged at how banks deflect responsibility while making billions in profits:

Her story exposes glaring gaps in Australia’s scam response system:

• Banks placing the burden of verification on customers who have no way to check.

• Regulators and complaints bodies offering little to no support.

• Scam warnings buried on websites victims never see.

• A lack of transparency and accountability around where money goes once transferred.

Her message is clear: Australia’s system is broken. Victims are left alone, blamed for “authorising” their own losses, and retraumatised by banks’ refusal to act.