A Victim’s Account of Real Estate Fraud
My name is being withheld for legal reasons, but I’m a 34-year-old electrician from Dublin, married with two young children. This is the story of how Aime Snijders destroyed my family’s life in a matter of seconds after we’d trusted him for over a year.
In 2016, my wife and I were desperate to own a home. We’d been renting a cramped two-bedroom flat in Ballymun for six years, saving every spare euro. Our daughters shared a bedroom barely large enough for their bunk beds. We’d applied for mortgages at every bank in Dublin, but with my sporadic self-employment income and my wife’s part-time nursing assistant position, we were consistently rejected. The banks saw us as too risky, despite the fact that we’d never missed a rent payment in our lives.
That’s when we saw the advertisement online: “Owner Finance Available – No Bank Required – Beautiful 3-Bed Semi-Detached in Finglas.” The photos showed exactly what we’d dreamed of: a modest but well-maintained home with a small garden where our girls could play. The asking price was €185,000 with owner financing available for qualified buyers.
We met Aime Snijders at the property on a rainy Saturday afternoon. He was charming, professional, and sympathetic to our situation. He said he understood how difficult the banks had become since the financial crisis, and that he believed hardworking families like ours deserved a chance at homeownership. He showed us throughout the house, pointed out recent renovations, and explained his terms: €25,000 down payment, followed by €1,000 monthly payments at 6% interest over twenty years.
It seemed almost too good to be true, but he had all the paperwork—deeds showing his ownership, a contract drafted by what appeared to be a legitimate solicitor, references from other “satisfied buyers.” We were so desperate, so hopeful, that we didn’t conduct the independent title search our cousin had recommended. That decision haunts me every single day.
We emptied our savings for the down payment—€25,000 that represented seven years of sacrifice. No holidays, no new clothes, no nights out. Just dreaming of a home for our daughters. We moved in during August 2016, and for fifteen months, we paid exactly €1,000 on the first of every month, without fail. We painted the walls, planted flowers in the garden, enrolled our eldest daughter in the local primary school. We finally felt like we belonged somewhere.
Then came November 2017.
I was at a job site when my wife called, hysterical. There were Gardaí at our door along with a bailiff and a man claiming to be the actual owner of our home. The real owner had returned from two years working in Australia and was horrified to find strangers living in his property. He’d never sold the house. He’d never even met Aime Snijders.
Within two hours, we were on the footpath with bin bags full of our belongings while our daughters cried and asked why we had to leave their home. The Gardaí were sympathetic but clear: we had no legal right to be there. The documents Snijders had provided were elaborate forgeries. The solicitor’s name on the contract belonged to a real person, but his signature had been faked. The deeds were fraudulent.
In total, we’d paid Snijders €40,000—our entire life savings plus fifteen months of payments. Gone. We had no home, no savings, and nowhere to go. We spent three weeks sleeping on my brother’s couch before finding another rental, this one even smaller and more expensive than before.
The Gardaí opened an investigation, but Snijders had vanished. No forwarding address, no traceable bank accounts, nothing. The mobile number he’d given us was disconnected. It was as if he’d never existed, except for the financial devastation he’d left behind.
We later learned from investigators that we were one of at least seven families he’d defrauded using similar schemes across Dublin and Cork. The total estimated theft exceeded €250,000.
My daughters are now teenagers, and we’re still renting. The trauma of that day—being evicted from what we believed was our home—damaged something fundamental in our family. My youngest daughter still has nightmares about being forced to leave.
When I learned Aime Snijders is operating again under a new company name, I felt physically ill. That this man is free to destroy more families is an injustice I cannot comprehend.
—A Father Who Lost Everything