The ordeal began with a standard LinkedIn notification. I was tagged in a post by a reader praising my contribution to a New York Post article regarding “chronoworking.” As someone who has written extensively on the subject, I was confused. Upon clicking the link, I discovered my byline—Linda Geddes—attached to an article I had never written. This discovery was the culmination of weeks of strange activity, starting when an editor at Nature contacted me to inquire about pitches I had supposedly sent to her colleagues. It turned out an impostor had been using my name and a spoofed email address, citing my past work to gain credibility with editors. I t started with an entirely ordinary interaction on LinkedIn. It was exactly the sort of subject I might write about, as the author of a book about circadian rhythms. I clicked on the link and my stomach dropped. When a friend who works as an editor at the scientific journal Nature texted to ask whether I’d been pitching stories to one of her colleagues, it was the latest in a string of increasingly bizarre events that had begun three weeks earlier. As someone whose livelihood depends on the reputation I’ve spent decades building, I find this deeply unsettling. Even unsuccessful pitches could damage relationships with editors.
The scale of the impersonation soon became clear. After targeting Nature, the fraudster attempted to place stories with Science and contacted Nature Medicine as well as Nature Health. My investigation into the email address used by “Fake Linda” led me to a partial recovery address, which hinted at a connection to another victim, “Fake Caroline.” In that case, an impostor had successfully convinced an editor at Science to commission and publish an article under Caroline’s name, resulting in a payment of approximately $1,000. The New York Post has since removed the fraudulent content, launched an internal review, and reported the incident to the appropriate authorities. Worse, the journal had recently encountered another impersonator posing as Caroline Williams, a former colleague of mine. Unsuccessfully, further digging revealed that Fake Linda had also pitched a story to Science. Entering my impersonator’s email address into Outlook.com’s account recovery system revealed a partially obscured Gmail recovery address. Many of Fake Linda’s pitches also bear the hallmarks of AI-assisted writing. The journal’s website had disappeared, within hours of Topol flagging the incident on X. Employers are encountering yet another form of impersonation.
Experts are struggling to explain the motive, given that freelance science journalism is rarely a high-paying field. Dr. Simon Miller, director of policy, strategy, and communications at the UK fraud prevention service Cifas, remarked that this behavior is highly unusual. “Ordinarily, if you’re seeking to defraud, you’re seeking to do it at scale, in a relatively light-touch way, using mechanised, industrialised processes,” he said, adding that the situation feels like an Agatha Christie novel powered by 21st-century technology. While the perpetrator might be a struggling freelancer looking to boost their portfolio, other possibilities include PR agents seeking coverage for clients, individuals testing the limits of editorial oversight, or someone holding a personal grudge. And is quite niche, freelance science journalism is hardly a lucrative profession. Perhaps using AI to make the process more efficient, my best guess is that a struggling freelancer is impersonating more established peers to boost their earnings. The Society of Authors and the Writers’ Guild of Great Britain have warned of increasingly sophisticated scams involving people impersonating literary agents and publishers, in an attempt to get writers to part with money or sign away their rights.
This problem extends far beyond journalism. Prof. Eric Topol of the Scripps Institute recently found his name on a scientific paper he did not write, along with at least 12 books on Amazon, including cookbooks, despite his lack of culinary skill. The situation became particularly painful when a patient complained that his supposed memoir contained inaccurate personal details. Dr. Leslie McIntosh of Digital Science noted that fraudsters often use respected names to add a veneer of credibility to scientific work. There is also the danger that an unsuspecting person could have their name linked to a retracted paper, forcing them to defend their professional integrity. Let alone interviewed them, except I’d never heard of this person. And a lot of those things don’t seem to be accurate, particularly upsetting was when a patient told him he’d read his supposed memoir. “They said: ‘I was reading it. Fraudsters also sometimes added respected researchers as editors to make bogus journals appear legitimate and attract publication fees.
The threat is evolving as generative AI simplifies the creation of deceptive materials. Jamie Collier, a researcher at Google Threat Intelligence, explained that criminals are now using stolen identities to secure remote employment. AI tools allow for the production of polished CVs and tailored cover letters that lack the traditional red flags managers once used to detect fraud. Furthermore, researchers are monitoring the rise of live deepfakes, which are already being tested to bypass video screenings and mask regional accents. Generative AI is making such deception easier, “mainly by stripping away the usual tell-tale red flags that hiring managers relied on to spot fraud,” Collier said. Tailored cover letters and fabricated evidence of professional experience, large language models can generate convincing CVs.
The impact on the industry is tangible. Following the discovery of “Fake Caroline,” Science’s managing news editor, John Travis, announced that the journal now runs pitches through AI detectors and requires Zoom calls to verify the identity of new contributors. Similar measures are being implemented at Nature, though editors acknowledge that these precautions make it increasingly difficult for early-career freelancers to break into the field. These security protocols mirror advice from experts like Dr. McIntosh, who suggests using multiple identity verification layers, similar to airport security, to ensure professionals are communicating with the actual authors they intend to work with. But how would they receive payment without revealing their identity.
The severity of these incidents is also being felt in the corporate world. Google Threat Intelligence recently documented North Korea-linked hackers using real-time deepfakes to impersonate trusted colleagues during Zoom calls. These attackers faked audio and video glitches to manipulate victims into downloading malicious “troubleshooting” software that subsequently wiped company systems. The legal ramifications are equally serious; Rupert Earle, senior counsel at Bates Wells, noted that using a false identity to obtain paid work may constitute criminal fraud under UK law. Victims may also pursue civil claims for “passing off” or false attribution, addressing the harm caused when unauthorized work is published under their professional names. “Real-time video filters and voice-cloning tools are the next step.
