A ring in the middle of an ordinary day. I was sweeping leaves off the porch when my phone rang. It was a simple Wednesday afternoon, the kind that passes unnoticed. The sun warmed the boards beneath my bare feet, birds chirped somewhere beyond the fence, and my youngest was inside finishing homework. I wiped my hands on my jeans and answered with a smile, expecting my husband or one of the kids. Instead, all I could hear was heavy breathing and the muffled sound of my son sobbing. “Mum,” he gasped between breaths, “I made a mistake.” At that moment, time stopped. Every fear I had ever carried as a parent seemed to take shape in his shaking voice.
As he tried to speak, words tumbled out in a broken stream. He was at a friend’s house and something had happened. The other parent came on the line to explain that she had found him hiding in the corner of their living room, cheeks slick with tears, clutching his phone. On the screen was a message from a stranger demanding more photos. The stranger had sent him an explicit photo and told him to send one back. My son had refused, but the person kept threatening to share the picture to everyone on his contact list unless he complied. He was hyperventilating, convinced that his life was over.
That call changed me. As his mother, I had spent years teaching him about strangers at the door and helmets on bicycles. I thought I knew how to keep him safe. It never occurred to me that danger could arrive through the device in his hand. That day I realized there are threats our children face that we cannot see, and conversations we have avoided because we did not realize how necessary they are.
Unseen danger in our children’s pockets
What my son experienced is called sextortion. The Federal Bureau of Investigation warns that there has been a huge increase in cases where children and teens are threatened or coerced into sending explicit images online. Predators stalk social media platforms, gaming apps and messaging services looking for vulnerable kids. Sometimes they start by sending a friendly message or a compliment. In other cases they send an explicit photo and claim they have dirt on the child unless the child sends something back. These criminals prey on the kindness and curiosity of kids, pretending to be a peer or offering gifts. Once they receive one compromising photo, they threaten to publish it unless the child sends money, gift cards or more images.
The criminals rarely meet their victims in person. That does not lessen the harm. When a stranger can reach into your living room through a phone, the safe haven of home collapses. According to the FBI, offenders often use dozens of fake accounts simultaneously, contacting many young people at once and testing who will respond. They may pose as a teenage girl on one profile and a video-game champion on another, tailoring their persona to each child. With just a few friendly exchanges, our children can unwittingly hand over the information predators need to do real harm.
Why our kids don’t tell us
During that call, when my son was crying so hard that words were impossible, I kept asking myself why he had not come to me sooner. He knows how fiercely we love him, how we have always encouraged honesty. But shame is a heavy chain, and predators count on it. The FBI notes that victims caught in this cycle feel scared, alone, embarrassed, anxious and desperate. Offenders harass them incessantly, threatening to publish their photos or harm someone they love. Kids may think they will be punished if they admit that they engaged in a conversation or took a picture they regret. They may be using an app they should not have or talking to a stranger they thought was a friend. In their mind, the safest option is to try to make the problem go away on their own.
It is easy as a parent to say, “my child would never do that.” I said it too. But sexual curiosity and the desire for connection are not flaws; they are part of growing up. Predators exploit those normal feelings. They promise love, offer money or game credits, or pretend to be a peer in need of help. One case cited by the FBI involved a man in his 40s who worked as a youth minister so he could study how teens talk. He then created social media profiles posing as a teenage girl and encouraged boys to make videos. Another criminal offered a girl money and threatened to bomb her school if she did not send pictures.
Creating a safe space for confessions
After I hung up that call, I drove straight to my friend’s house. I held my son as he cried and told him that he was not in trouble. I said it over and over until it sank in. It felt counterintuitive; part of me wanted to ask how this had happened, to lecture him about internet safety. Instead, I reminded myself that he was a victim. The FBI emphasises that young people are not the ones breaking the law in these situations. Sextortion is illegal because it is wrong for an adult to demand a sexual picture from a minor. Even if a child agreed to something they later regret, they are not in trouble. Our job is to help them, not shame them.
I asked him what he needed and he whispered, “I just want this to stop.” Together we blocked the contact, reported the profile, and called the police. The FBI advises victims or their caregivers to report sextortion to the FBI field office or file a report online. There are agents who specialise in these cases and can help stop the harasser and provide support. If a child is too scared to reach out to law enforcement, they should speak to a trusted adult. We also reached out to the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, where resources are available for families dealing with sextortion. We learned that reporting quickly can stop the spread of images and, more importantly, can save lives.
What we can do right now
The scariest part of this story is not that my son was targeted. It is how unprepared I was. That day taught me to stop assuming that silence means safety. Our children live in digital spaces we never dreamed of at their age. Here are the steps we have started taking in our home:
1. Talk early and often. Conversations about online safety should begin before a child has their own device. Explain that strangers online can lie about who they are, that they may use compliments, humor or gifts to build trust. Let them know that if someone asks for a photo or sends one, it is a red flag. Discuss sextortion specifically — use the word. Knowledge is power.
2. Normalize mistakes. We tell our kids there is nothing they can do that will make us stop loving them. Remind them that curiosity is normal and that even if they feel embarrassed, they can come to you. Reinforce that they will not be in trouble for telling the truth.
3. Set boundaries together: Rather than laying down a list of rigid rules, involve your child in creating guidelines for device use. Which apps are allowed? Who can they talk to? How will you monitor without invading their privacy? When kids feel ownership of the rules, they are more likely to follow them.
4. Stay curious about their online world: Ask them about the games they play, the people they follow and the shows they watch. Follow them on social media if they will allow it. Make discussions about online experiences a regular part of dinner conversation, not a one-time lecture.
5. Have a plan for reporting: Teach them how to block and report users on every platform they use. Keep a list of resources handy — the FBI’s tips website, local law enforcement, school counselors and child-protection hotlines. Make sure they know that asking for help is a sign of strength.
Closing the gap between fear and trust
My son still carries his phone, but the way we talk about it has changed. Instead of handing him a device with a warning to “be safe,” I remind him that he has a team behind him. He knows now that the adults in his life are aware of sextortion, that we believe him, and that we will fight for his safety. Our conversation did not erase his fear, but it replaced some of his shame with relief.
As mothers, we cannot control every message that finds its way to our children’s screens, but we can control how we prepare them and how we respond when they stumble. The technology will always race ahead of us, but empathy and open dialogue are timeless tools. By naming the danger, we take away some of its power. By listening without judgment, we build bridges strong enough to bear the weight of our children’s mistakes and fears.
The next time your phone rings and your child’s voice shakes, I hope you will remember this story. I hope you will sit with them, breathe with them, and make sure they know they are not alone. The conversation every mother needs to have is not about blame, it is about building trust. Our kids deserve nothing less.
