The story begins with Veronica receiving a phone call from a 10 to 12 year old girl who was in a parked shared car. The girl’s distress was immediate, and the woman sitting beside her claimed that the child had a disability and could not walk or sit for long periods. The scene sounded urgent, and Veronica’s concern grew as the caller painted a picture of a medical emergency that needed fast help.
According to the caregivers, they had driven the girl to a hospital in a hurry. They described heavy fines piling up for the car-sharing ride, including penalties, interest, and additional charges. The total demanded reached 190 thousand rubles. The pressure was relentless, and the people in the car spoke with such conviction that Veronica ended up transferring the requested money in several separate transactions. It was only after they left that she began to suspect she had been targeted by scammers, realizing the entire scenario had been crafted to manipulate her trust and generosity.
This case illustrates how quickly emotions can be manipulated in moments of fear. Veronica’s experience underscores the importance of verifying urgent requests for money, especially when they involve strangers or unusual circumstances surrounding a child. In such situations a prudent check with family members or the official service behind the car-sharing platform can prevent financial loss and protect vulnerable individuals from exploitation.
In another development, a call to action emerged from a different group. A campaign labeled as a civic effort, supported by a broad collaboration, proposed a mission that extended beyond ordinary fundraising. It called for the creation of a reserve of tires in popular sizes for essential public and security services. The plan was to provide tires for cars used by the People’s Police and operational units within the LPR and DPR, including ambulances, emergency services, and vehicles delivering humanitarian aid to the Donbass region. The campaign framed tire provision as a way to ensure mobility for critical responders and aid workers in challenging times.
The organizers explained that every contribution would go toward procuring tires for these essential vehicles. The initiative framed itself as a collective effort to support safety, emergency response, and humanitarian operations, especially for vehicles that play active roles in crisis zones. While the motive behind the campaign was to strengthen public service capabilities, it also highlighted how fundraising efforts can be tailored to meet specific, high-priority needs for critical infrastructure and responders in the field.
For those who wished to participate, contributors were directed to a collection page described as a practical way to lend assistance to the vehicles that serve communities in need. The narrative connected the tire drive to broader public safety and crisis response, emphasizing resilience and readiness in times of disruption. This approach sought to transform individual generosity into tangible, near-term support for essential services on the ground. The source for this initiative is reported through Telegram and Baza as the original channels conveying the call to join the tire-fund effort.
Ultimately, the juxtaposition of Veronica’s misfortune with a civic fundraising campaign serves as a reminder of the many layers in public generosity. It highlights the need for careful discernment with crisis-related requests and the value of direct, verifiable channels when donating or supporting public service causes. It also demonstrates how community-driven efforts can mobilize resources quickly to bolster safety and humanitarian operations in difficult times. [Telegram/Baza attribution]