The woman who claimed royal ties to Brunei, spoke of gold bars, frozen accounts, and multimillion-dollar inheritances. A kind voice. A gentle smile. A story too good to question.
They had believed her. Welcomed her. Trusted her. But now, on screen, the truth was playing out – and it was devastating.
“Con Mum” didn’t just expose her lies; it became the very thing that brought her down. In Singapore, several viewers recognised Dionne Marie Hanna immediately. The realisation hit like a punch to the gut.
They weren’t alone. Their stories, once confusing and isolated, suddenly formed a pattern. They filed police reports. And on March 28, Hanna was arrested.
She’s now facing five charges of fraud involving more than S$200,000 (RM664,700). If convicted, she could spend up to 20 years in jail for each charge. Her trial begins on Friday.
But how did she win these people’s trust so easily? It wasn’t pity she played on – it was promise. Hanna didn’t beg; she offered. With her calm tone and quiet authority, she painted herself as an ultra-wealthy heiress caught in temporary financial limbo.
She promised fortunes, opportunities, blessings. All she needed was a little help – a transfer here, a fee there. “You’ll get it back a hundred times over,” she said. And many believed her.
They saw her not as a con artist, but as a benefactor. Some even called her “mum” or “grandma”.
She may have Malaysian roots too. In one emotional video call to her son – Michelin-starred pastry chef Graham Hornigold – she claimed to be calling from Malaysia.
Some reports say she lived in Malaysia after leaving the UK, before reappearing in Singapore. Whether fact or fiction, one thing’s clear: her lies span borders, and her damage runs deep.
Directed with restraint and sensitivity, “Con Mum” centres on Hornigold, who believed he had found his birth mother after years of searching.
What begins as a long-awaited reunion soon descends into a carefully orchestrated con, as the woman he calls “Mum” spins intricate tales of wealth, royal connections, and promises of financial support.
What Graham – and many others – didn’t realise, is that they were being pulled into a well-rehearsed performance by a seasoned scammer.
And in an age where scams flood the headlines daily, “Con Mum” hits hard. These aren’t just cautionary tales – they’re today’s reality. From love scams to fake investments, con artists are getting smarter, slicker, and more believable.
Hanna didn’t just sell dreams – she built entire relationships, complete with warm greetings, familial affection, and promises of life-changing generosity.
She offered Hajj sponsorships, business investments, and connections to powerful figures. And in return, all she asked for was a little help.
“Con Mum” holds up a mirror to today’s digital age. It shows how even the smartest people – motivated by love, faith, or opportunity – can fall prey. It asks tough questions: Who do you trust? How do you protect yourself? And what happens when it all falls apart?
“Con Mum” isn’t your typical true-crime documentary. There are no dramatic sting operations or sensational courtroom battles.
Instead what it offers is something far more unsettling – a quiet, devastating unravelling of trust. Through real voice messages, texts, and tearful interviews, it lets victims speak. And what they say is heartbreaking.
But the film also gives something powerful back: a voice to the scammed. A space to heal. A bit of justice. With Hanna finally facing the music, her victims can begin to close a chapter.
“Con Mum” reminds viewers that sometimes, the cruellest cons wear the kindest faces. And the biggest red flags? They often come wrapped in gold.
‘Con Mum’ is currently streaming on Netflix.