Bogus websites, staged protests and pretend atheists: Inside the fake asylum industry
Inside the Fraudulent Asylum Network
Our undercover investigation revealed a growing trend of migrants and consultants using fabricated evidence to support false asylum applications. Techniques range from creating misleading online content to orchestrating staged events, all aimed at convincing immigration authorities of genuine persecution. A recent example involved a fake narrative about a Bangladeshi student seeking refuge in the UK, with legal advice tailored to manipulate the Home Office’s assessment.
Three Paths to Fabricated Claims
Zahid Hasan Akhand, presenting himself as a barrister, outlined three potential routes for asylum: persecution based on sexual orientation, religious beliefs, or political views. The reporter, posing as a recent university dropout, was advised to select one of these identities to strengthen their case. Akhand emphasized that while he would handle the legal framework, the individual had to commit to one storyline, whether embracing a homosexual identity, rejecting faith, or adopting a political stance.
“No way to know who is an atheist and who is not… You just told me you are not an atheist, which means you are not one.”
To validate the chosen identity, the reporter would need fabricated evidence. For a religious claim, this might involve posts criticizing Islam or the Prophet Muhammad, followed by clerics’ threats. For the political route, a more complex legal argument would be required, while the gay claim was deemed simpler, as authorities often overlook past stories. “For gay cases, it’s private, but politics and atheism are public,” Akhand noted.
Tools of the Trade
Akhand suggested leveraging AI tools such as ChatGPT to generate articles for atheist magazines, ensuring credibility. Social media posts, organized events for former Muslims, and fake partnerships were also part of the strategy. “Most people at these gatherings aren’t gay,” he added, implying the ease of crafting convincing falsehoods. The total cost for such services ranged from £2,000 to £3,000, with the legal fee alone at £1,500.
“You could have written under a pseudonym if you were in Bangladesh. If you go to those associations, you will not get caught out.”
Despite lacking a practicing license, Akhand claimed confidence in the system, stating that “everyone is being successful, God willing” if the evidence was properly arranged. He promised to provide a detailed plan once the reporter decided on their chosen identity, highlighting the deliberate structure of this underground network.
