In 2018, Lucy Wieland told the world she was dying. It was a complete lie.
The young woman fabricated a terminal ovarian cancer diagnosis, deceiving people who believed they were helping her through one of the most frightening experiences imaginable.
People offered money and support, convinced their generosity could make a difference to someone whose life was supposedly slipping away.
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But it was all fabricated. Wieland was not dying, nor had she ever been diagnosed with the disease she claimed was killing her.
The deception was a calculated exploitation of human compassion, weaponising the fear of cancer and the instinct to help someone facing death.
And she is far from alone.
Across the world, people have been drawn into elaborate cancer deceptions, with fabricated diagnoses used to extract money, manipulate intimate relationships, and exploit the trust, generosity, and sympathy of those who believe they are helping someone facing the fight of their life.
So why is cancer such a powerful lie? And what is it about the disease that can make people so willing to believe, and so reluctant to question, someone claiming to have it?
Why cancer?
Forensic psychiatrist Dr Robert M Kaplan has spent decades examining deception, criminal behaviour and the complexities of the human mind.
He believes the emotional power of a cancer diagnosis can put someone claiming to have the disease in a position of extraordinary influence over the people around them.
“The minute you tell somebody you’ve got cancer, you’ve kind of locked them into accepting what you’ve got and seeing you as a terrible victim,” Kaplan told 7NEWS.com.au.
“Once you do that to someone, you’re in their hands if your intention is deception or manipulation or fraud.”
This dynamic can make cancer a particularly potent vehicle for deception. The person hearing the diagnosis is confronted not just with a medical claim but with the possibility of another person’s suffering and death.
Questioning that claim can feel cruel, while offering support can seem like the only appropriate response.
Kaplan says cancer has come to occupy a particular place in the public imagination, much like tuberculosis did a century ago.
While many forms of cancer are now treatable, the diagnosis can still carry an association with death and life-altering treatments making it a particularly powerful way to elicit fear and sympathy.
The person who believes the lie
For a deception to work, there must usually be someone who believes it.
“Every pathological liar needs a mark,” Kaplan said, describing the person who buys into a story because, at some level, they want to believe it.
In the case of a fabricated cancer diagnosis, that person may be a partner, a family member or an entire community, all drawn in by the belief that someone they care about is facing a life-threatening illness.
The deception can become harder to question as people invest more of themselves in the story. They offer money, rearrange their lives and take on the emotional burden of supporting someone they believe is dying.
For the person telling the lie, that trust can become a source of power.
“Once people have bought into the whole thing, it has very strong power over them,” Kaplan said. In Wieland’s case, the trust she secured had tangible consequences. Her former partner took out loans believing he was helping pay for her treatment, while members of the wider community donated almost $55,000 to support her supposed cancer battle.
When lying becomes a disorder
A fabricated cancer diagnosis can be about more than money. In some cases, the reasons someone pretends to be seriously ill are far more complicated.
There are clinical terms for some of these behaviours, but Kaplan cautions against assuming a psychiatric label explains why someone has lied.
Malingering describes someone who deliberately fakes or exaggerates illness for an external benefit, such as financial gain.
Factitious disorder, historically associated with the term Munchausen syndrome, involves deceiving others about illness without an obvious external reward being the main motivation.
While some people fabricate an illness for financial gain, others may be seeking the care, attention, or sympathy that comes with being seriously ill. In some cases, that behaviour can be tied to much deeper psychological struggles.
In Wieland’s case, her defence barrister told the court a clinical assessment suggested she was likely experiencing factitious disorder, arguing that her desire for attention had escalated beyond her control.
That was an argument put forward by the defence, not a definitive explanation for every aspect of her behaviour.
When deception spirals
The damage caused by a lie can extend far beyond the person who tells it.
Kaplan pointed to Carl Beech, a British man who made false allegations about a network of child sexual abuse involving prominent public figures.
His claims triggered a major police investigation. Beech was convicted of 12 counts of perverting the course of justice and one count of fraud, alongside separate offences, and sentenced to 18 years in prison.
While Beech’s case did not involve a fabricated cancer diagnosis, it highlights how far-reaching the consequences of a convincing lie can be when others believe it and act on it.
“The bigger the lie, the more people you suck in if you do it properly,” Kaplan said.
For those caught up in a deception, the consequences can be deeply personal. They may have given money, defended the person publicly or made major decisions based on a story they believed to be true.
There can also be wider consequences when false claims prompt investigations or draw on the time and resources of medical professionals and other services.
When the truth emerges, they are left to grapple with the damage caused by the lie, as well as the realisation that someone they trusted had manipulated them.
Which comes first: the lie or the crime?
For Kaplan, one of the most difficult questions is whether deception begins with a desire to commit a crime, or whether a pattern of lying eventually becomes part of something far more serious.
A person who invents a cancer diagnosis to obtain money may know exactly what they are doing.
But deception has also played a role in cases involving domestic violence and murder, where lies and manipulation may be used to control others, conceal abusive behaviour, or hide the truth about what has happened.
In these cases, the stakes are vastly different, but the question of intent remains important. Is the deception a means to an end, or has lying become so ingrained in a person’s behaviour that it is difficult to separate from the actions that follow?
There is no single explanation that accounts for every case, and researchers are still working to understand the complex relationship between persistent deception, criminal behaviour and the motivations behind it.
