All Rise for the Conman: How Fake Judges, Fake Courts and Fake Calls Fooled India’s Real Justice System
India’s justice system is confronting a disturbing new dimension of fraud: criminals are no longer merely pretending to be police officers or government officials—they are impersonating judges, judicial staff and even entire courts to manipulate real people inside the legal system. A recent investigation by ThePrint highlights how technology, deception and the authority associated with the judiciary have been combined to create extraordinarily convincing scams.
One of the most striking cases involves conman Sukesh Chandrasekhar, who attempted to exploit the authority of the Supreme Court itself. According to the judgment delivered by Delhi’s Tis Hazari Courts on August 20, 2026, Chandrasekhar impersonated both the personal secretary of a sitting Supreme Court judge and subsequently the judge himself. He allegedly used the impersonated identity to contact a Special Judge and demand the release of “accused Sukesh” on bail.
The case demonstrates why judicial impersonation can be particularly dangerous. A criminal posing as an ordinary official may be questioned or challenged, but invoking the name of a Supreme Court judge creates an immediate perception of authority. The fraud depends not only on a false identity but also on the victim’s assumption that disobeying the caller could have serious professional or legal consequences.
The Delhi court described the conduct in exceptionally strong terms while convicting Chandrasekhar. The judgment portrayed the case as one that tested the limits of audacity and deception, with the accused effectively attempting to borrow the authority of the country’s highest court to influence another judicial officer.
The Chandrasekhar episode was not an isolated phenomenon. India has witnessed a broader evolution of impersonation fraud in which criminals reproduce the appearance and procedures of legitimate institutions. In some cases, victims have been shown fake police stations, fake officials and fake court proceedings through video calls, creating the impression that they are already inside a functioning criminal-justice process.
A particularly serious example emerged in Pune this year, where an 82-year-old retired businessman was allegedly defrauded of more than ₹10.73 crore. Investigators said the fraudsters staged a fake court hearing on camera, complete with a person posing as a judge and a fabricated prosecution, as part of a so-called digital-arrest operation.
The scammers reportedly used the name of the Naresh Goyal case to make their story appear credible. The victim was made to believe that he was connected to a serious criminal investigation and was consequently subjected to a prolonged psychological manipulation designed to make him transfer money.
This is the crucial change in India’s cyber-fraud landscape. The modern scam does not necessarily depend on a victim believing a single telephone call. Instead, criminals construct an entire alternate reality around the victim. There can be a police officer, an investigating officer, a prosecutor, a judge, a court hearing and official-looking documents—all controlled by the same criminal network.
Video technology makes the deception substantially more convincing. A victim who sees a person wearing judicial robes or sitting behind what appears to be a courtroom desk may instinctively regard the situation as genuine. The presence of multiple participants can further reinforce the illusion that the proceedings are legitimate.
The phenomenon is closely connected to the rise of “digital arrest” scams in India. In these operations, criminals generally impersonate police, CBI, ED, customs or other officials and tell victims that their identity documents, bank accounts or telephone numbers have been linked to a criminal investigation. The victim is then instructed to remain on a video call and follow the scammers’ instructions.
The scale of the broader problem has become serious enough to attract the attention of the Supreme Court. Recent proceedings have focused on the need for stronger legal mechanisms to deal with digital-arrest fraud and emerging forms of technology-assisted deception.
The psychological technique behind these scams is relatively simple but powerful: fear is combined with institutional authority. The victim is not merely told that money is required. Instead, the victim is told that non-compliance could result in arrest, prosecution, seizure of assets or imprisonment. Once fear takes over, ordinary safeguards such as consulting family members, contacting a lawyer or independently verifying the caller’s identity can disappear.
Some victims have reportedly been instructed not to speak with anyone while the supposed investigation is underway. This isolation is critical to the scam because a family member, lawyer or bank employee might immediately recognise the deception.
The problem extends beyond individuals. Fake judicial communications can potentially target lawyers, court staff, police officers and other officials who routinely interact with courts. When criminals possess accurate names, case numbers, telephone numbers or other publicly available information, a fraudulent communication can appear remarkably authentic.
The technology involved is also becoming increasingly sophisticated. Caller-ID spoofing, manipulated documents, cloned voices, edited video and artificial intelligence can all be used to reinforce false identities. The result is a new form of fraud in which criminals do not simply steal someone’s identity—they manufacture an entire institutional identity.
The threat is not restricted to India either. Law-enforcement agencies in other countries have warned about scammers impersonating judges, court officers and police officials. In the United States, for example, authorities have warned that fraudsters sometimes use genuine officials’ names, courthouse addresses, badge numbers and spoofed government telephone numbers to make fraudulent calls appear authentic.
What makes India’s situation particularly concerning is the intersection between such impersonation techniques and the country’s rapidly expanding digital ecosystem. WhatsApp and video calling have made it possible for a criminal organisation to create a convincing “courtroom” without possessing any physical courtroom at all.
The Pune case illustrates how far this deception can go. The fraudsters allegedly created a fake judicial environment through video, turning the victim’s mobile phone into what appeared to be a direct connection with the criminal-justice system.
For the genuine justice system, such incidents create a difficult challenge. Courts operate on the assumption that judicial communications carry authority, but that authority becomes vulnerable when technology allows criminals to reproduce the appearance of a court almost instantly.
The answer therefore cannot depend solely on educating potential victims. Stronger institutional verification mechanisms are equally important. Lawyers, court personnel, police officers and government departments need reliable ways to confirm whether a communication actually originated from the claimed judge, court or agency before acting upon it.
The Chandrasekhar conviction also provides an important reminder that impersonating a judicial authority is not merely another form of financial fraud. It attacks the credibility of the justice system itself. When a criminal successfully pretends to be a judge, the immediate victim may be one individual, but the wider target is public confidence in judicial institutions.
The most disturbing lesson from these cases is that criminals no longer need to penetrate a court’s physical premises to imitate its authority. A phone, a camera, fabricated documents and sufficient knowledge of the legal system can sometimes be enough to create a convincing counterfeit version of justice.
As India moves deeper into digital courts and technology-driven legal administration, authentication will therefore become as important as accessibility. The judiciary’s authority ultimately depends on people being able to distinguish genuine judicial communication from an elaborate digital imitation.
The recent conviction of Sukesh Chandrasekhar, together with the continuing rise of fake-court digital-arrest scams, shows that the battle against cybercrime is no longer simply about protecting bank accounts and passwords. It is increasingly about protecting the identity and credibility of the institutions on which the rule of law itself depends.
