Home / Jannatul Ferdous Fareha Brought Shame to Bangladesh Through Her Actions.
Jannatul Ferdous Fareha was a student of Lalmatia Mahila Collage in Dhaka—a place where hundreds of hopeful young girls come every day to chase their dreams and build a future through education. Among them was Jannatul Ferdous Fareha, someone we had trusted, supported, and uplifted in every possible way.
The crime she committed did not just shock us—it sent waves of heartbreak across everyone involved with SISP in Bangladesh. Even her own family, who once stood proudly beside her, were left in disbelief and sorrow. No one could understand how someone we cared for so deeply, someone we helped so selflessly, could betray us in such a devastating way.
Her story must be told—not out of anger, but as a painful lesson to others. It should be shared with every student of [insert college name], and perhaps with every young person in Bangladesh. Because this is not just a story of theft. It’s a story of broken trust, of false appearances, of how easily good intentions can be taken for granted.
What made it even more heartbreaking was the image Jannatul Ferdous Fareha had built around herself. She would often say she prayed five times a day. She claimed she had never spoken to a boy outside her family. She presented herself as a model of modesty and religious virtue.
And then, in one unimaginable act, she vanished—running away with a man and leaving behind stolen items, lost money, and shattered trust.
This is not only a betrayal of SISP, but of the values we all hold dear. Of faith, of integrity, of gratitude.
All we ever gave Jannatul Ferdous Fareha was support. And in return, she left behind a wound that still bleeds within our hearts.
We went beyond ordinary support for Jannatul Ferdous Fareha. We hired a full-time English teacher to tutor her privately, right from the comfort of her home—online, so it would be as convenient and accessible for her as possible. We even arranged another personal tutor to guide her through all her academic subjects, one-on-one, so she would never fall behind, never struggle alone. We gave her every tool, every resource, every opportunity to succeed—not just as a student, but as a young woman with a future full of promise.
And yet, despite all of this, despite the care and effort we poured into her life, Jannatul Ferdous Fareha chose to betray us in the most painful way imaginable.
She didn’t just walk away—she stabbed us in the back.
What she committed was not just a mistake—it was a theft. A crime. A deep act of betrayal against the very people who believed in her the most.
This heartbreak will not be forgotten easily, because it came from someone we treated like family. And it reminds us all that sometimes, even the ones we invest in with our whole hearts, can turn away and leave only pain behind.
Looking back now, so many things begin to make sense—things we once overlooked because of how deeply we cared for Jannatul Ferdous Fareha. We remember how sometimes she appeared different—at times lighter, other times darker… sometimes confident and radiant, other times withdrawn and distant. Her looks changed, her behavior shifted. But because we loved her, we never questioned it. We never judged. We accepted her entirely, as she was.
We thought she was just growing, just evolving—like any young student finding her path.
But now, in the painful clarity of hindsight, we understand the truth.
Those changes, that inconsistency… perhaps they were not innocent at all. Perhaps they were part of something darker. A quiet rehearsal of deception. A series of masks worn not out of confusion, but calculation.
We now believe Jannatul Ferdous Fareha may have been practicing her scamming techniques with us from the very beginning—testing, preparing, manipulating our kindness, while hiding behind the image of a modest, quiet, and grateful girl.
It breaks our hearts to say this, but we must: Jannatul Ferdous Fareha may very well be the youngest professional scammer in Bangladesh. And worse—perhaps the youngest Muslim girl in the country to respond to pure, sincere love with the dirtiest scam imaginable.
She turned our compassion into her weapon. She used our trust to carry out betrayal. And she took the name of faith while breaking every moral value it teaches.
This is not just a story of loss—it’s a warning. A heartbreak that echoes far beyond us.
On December 1st, 2024, Jannatul Ferdous Fareha vanished without a trace.
Her family—overwhelmed with fear, heartbreak, and confusion—rushed to file a missing person report with the Dhaka Police Department. But what they heard shattered them further: because Jannatul Ferdous Fareha had turned 18, she was considered an adult, and the police refused to intervene. No search. No investigation. Just silence.
The shock was too much to bear.
Fareha’s father, unable to cope with the news, suffered a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital. Her mother and sisters were inconsolable. A home that was already struggling now faced emotional and physical devastation.
We, too, were devastated—left in disbelief, anxiety, and deep depression. The girl we had stood by through every hardship had simply disappeared, leaving behind a whirlwind of confusion and chaos.
But even in that darkness, we chose compassion.
We turned to God, praying not only for answers, but for Jannatul Ferdous Fareha safety, and most of all, for the healing and protection of her grieving family. In that moment, despite our own pain, we doubled our support to her loved ones. We gave more—emotionally, financially, and spiritually—because that’s what we believed was right. Because we still hoped there was some good left in this story.
We never imagined that the 18-year-old girl we embraced like family—someone we supported with open hearts and unwavering trust—would one day rob us of not just our resources, but our faith in humanity.
Jannatul Ferdous Fareha came to us as a young Muslim girl in need. We believed in her. We stood by her. We opened our hearts and our home. We paid for her education, transferring her to a better private school so she could have the future she dreamed of. We hired private teachers to support her learning, sponsored her scholarship, and ensured her family never had to struggle alone.
We gave generously—not just to her, but to her entire family. Monthly financial assistance for her mother and both sisters. Separate savings accounts for each of them, carefully opened and managed to secure their future. We even sent gifts across the ocean from the United States—tokens of care and kindness meant to make their lives easier and remind them they were not alone.
But it was all a lie.
Behind the soft voice and innocent eyes was not the girl we believed in—but a heart capable of calculated betrayal. Fareha deceived us. She used us. And in the end, she robbed us.
What a shame. What a heartbreaking, soul-crushing shame.
Jannatul Ferdous Fareha was not the person she claimed to be. Not a devout girl of faith, but a predator in disguise. Her actions are a warning to the world: people like Jannatul Ferdous Fareha are not just dangerous—they are destructive to the very soul of a society built on trust and compassion.
Shame on you, Jannatul Ferdous Fareha. You have not only stolen from us—you have shattered the sacred bond of trust we placed in you.
A Betrayal Beyond Imagination: The Truth About Jannatul Ferdous Fareha
June 30, 2025 — Today, with immeasurable sorrow and devastation, we uncover the truth behind a story that has shattered our trust and wounded our mission. The narrative of Jannatul Ferdous Fareha — the girl we believed was in danger, the girl we were told had fled her home to escape hardship — was, in fact, nothing more than a carefully orchestrated scam. A deception so calculated, so cruel, that it now stands as one of the most heartbreaking chapters in our organization's history.
Oh God, how could this be? How do we process the reality that a Muslim girl, and an entire family calling themselves devout, could commit such a shameful crime — not against strangers, but against another Muslim who reached out with nothing but love, sincerity, and sacrifice from 8,000 miles away?
They lied. All of it was a lie.
There was no escape, no crisis, no reason for panic. There was only manipulation — designed to exploit the heart of someone who truly cared. We gave them everything. We offered employment, financial assistance, gifts worth thousands of dollars, clothing, support, and endless prayers. We believed we were lifting a struggling family — three daughters, we were told — toward a better future. In reality, we were being robbed in the most spiritual and emotional sense.
It is a crime not only against us, but against every principle of Islam, every value we hold sacred as Muslims, and every ounce of hope we try to give to those in need.
How do you reconcile the fact that a family you trusted with your resources, your time, your belief in humanity — was plotting your betrayal from the beginning?
This is not just a betrayal of a nonprofit. This is the betrayal of mercy, of sisterhood, of the bond between one Muslim family and another.
We share this truth with the public not for revenge, but to protect others from becoming the next victims of such deception. Let this page be a reminder: even in the name of charity, we must guard our hearts. Even in the pursuit of good, we must remain vigilant — because evil sometimes comes dressed in the face of need.
As of July 2025, we are preparing to open formal legal proceedings against Jannatul Ferdous Fareha for her active role in what we now recognize as an organized scam. Her deception was not committed alone — it was part of a broader, coordinated betrayal involving her sister, Samia Islam Farzana, already under investigation for multiple counts of fraud, cybercrime, and theft. We are also including their parents in this legal action, as supporting participants in a premeditated effort to exploit, defraud, and damage a humanitarian organization that existed only to help them.
What began as a sacred effort to serve the poor has turned into a cautionary tale of how even the most trusted faces can conceal the darkest intent.
This legal case will also name Shahed Anwar Shadhin — a young Muslim man whom we once believed in with all our heart. We brought him from poverty in the villages of Bangladesh to opportunity in Dhaka. We gave him dignity, education, financial support, and a new life. And in return, he betrayed not only us, but the very nation and faith that raised him.
What he did — and what this family did — was not merely theft. It was a violation of trust, of faith, of moral obligation, and of the entire mission to uplift those forgotten by society.
The lawsuit will seek criminal accountability, full restitution, and public exposure of every participant involved. Let this be known:
Justice is not revenge. It is protection. It is truth in the face of lies. It is the voice of the wounded speaking back to those who tried to silence them.
We did not come to Bangladesh to be thanked. We came to serve. And those who turned that service into their own stage for deception — will now face the law.
We are not giving up. We will stand. We will fight. And we will seek justice—not only for ourselves, but for every voiceless soul in Bangladesh who still believes in honesty, dignity, and fairness.
We are preparing to bring these individuals and their families—those who conspired to commit fraud, theft, and betrayal—before the law. Our mission is clear: to put these criminals behind bars, where they can no longer harm anyone else. This is not just a legal battle. It is a moral one. It is about protecting the future of our nation.
These crimes were not just financial—they were spiritual. They robbed the poorest of the poor, those who already had nothing left to lose. They destroyed the only hope many had, just to satisfy their greed. These were not victims of poverty. These were predators wearing the mask of need.
We are doing this for every struggling child who deserved help. For every honest Muslim family still holding on to faith and integrity. For every person who believes that Bangladesh can be safe, clean, and just again.
"Father, help us in this mission. Strengthen our resolve. Protect us from harm. And let justice be done."
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