Journey to the heart of Romania’s sex industry
Paraic O'Brien
Foreign Affairs Correspondent
Romania is one of the top countries of origin for people being trafficked for sex into the UK. Paraic O’Brien meets one of the pimps – “lover boys” – who are the lynchpin of Romania’s sex industry.
The most unnerving thing about my meeting with a trafficker was that moment when, despite myself, I started warming to him.
We arranged to meet outside our hotel in the city of Iasi, near the Moldovan border. He was a school friend of an acquaintance and had agreed to talk to us anonymously.
We got into his flash car, he tuned the radio to some Romanian easy listening, and thus began our tour into the head of a sex trafficker.
Building relationships
As we drove around the city he showed us the flats he used to accommodate women in, the taxis used for ferrying clients and women around.
He was in his mid-20s, good looking, well dressed, looked after himself. He told us he didn’t drink or take drugs. He was in a long-term relationship.
The man projected confidence, warmth, he put you at ease – the ultimate manipulator. You couldn’t help yourself, you started to like him.
They call them “lover boys”, the lynchpin of the trafficking business. They build relationships with young women. They “groom” them.
Read more of Paraic O'Brien's reports for Channel 4 News
‘Romanian dream’
According to the pimp in the car, he starts boyfriend, he finishes boss: “If she looks good, then you have an ATM… a cash machine.”
According to “lover boy”, Romanian police are clamping down. As a result, the business is splintering into smaller operations with an emphasis on sending women to other European countries.
He has “run” women in Spain, Italy and Austria. The way he avoids police: keep the numbers small, keep them tightly controlled.
“If one girl complains (to the police), she’s your girlfriend. If a second one complains, you’re in trouble.”
“So how do you stop that happening?” I ask.
“You brainwash them… by just talking. Just saying what they can do with all that money.”
“So you’re selling a dream to these women?”
“Yes, the Romanian dream.”
‘I don’t force anyone’
He laughs. A sinister, mean sort of laugh. I’m not warming to him any more. I ask him whether he feels guilty about what he’s doing.
“No. I don’t force anyone. When a girl comes from a big family, the father drinks, beats the mother.
“You’re poor, you want to escape from this life. Then you choose the most efficient work to do.”
We spent hours driving around in his car talking. As we did, it became clear, he was describing his own life as well.