PHNOM PENH, Cambodia — The 33-year-old man, lured to Cambodia with the offer of a receptionist job, endured daily beatings for a month, locked in a dark room somewhere in the Southeast Asian country. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew the price of his freedom: $6,000.

He had arrived from Ghana in November 2025 with the promise of a $1,000-a-month job — way more than he could make back home. At a training session he was taught to promote work-from-home “jobs” to people online, dangling the prospect of easy money.

He soon realized it was a scam, he said, and wanted out. That’s when the beatings began.

“It’s not a joke the way they threaten you, they’ll beat you to your core,” the man told The Associated Press, speaking on condition of anonymity for fear of retribution from the scam enterprise — which, he said, seized his passport — as well as the recruiter who got him into it.

For the next month, he said he endured beatings with fists, sometimes a bat and was shocked with tasers until the scam center was raided by Cambodian police in January as part of a nationwide campaign to shut down the criminal operations. Months later, he still cannot grip with his left hand after his wrist was broken during the abuse.

Online scam operations have flourished in Cambodia, as well as in Myanmar and Laos, since the COVID-19 pandemic, a multibillion dollar industry where workers carried out web-based scams from inside massive fortified complexes, living in dormitories they weren’t allowed to leave. Some came knowing they were signing up for something illegal. But many, like the Ghanaian man, were baited with false promises of high-paying jobs through complex human trafficking webs. Cambodia was home to at least 182 confirmed scam locations, according to data collected by CyberScamMonitor, a watchdog that tracks them, though it has evidence of roughly 300.

Facing international pressure in late 2025 after the death of a South Korean student forced into such an operation and the U.S. indictment of the Chinese-born founder of a Cambodian conglomerate behind a massive cryptocurrency scam, Cambodia kicked its crackdown into high gear.

But even as it closed down dozens of scam centers, Cambodia has not prosecuted the criminal operatives behind the schemes or the elites who helped them flourish by providing financing, facilities and connections to the highest echelons of Cambodia’s government — including senior politicians and relatives of Prime Minister Hun Manet, according to the U.S. Congress, which has called for sanctions.

After the raids ramped up in January, tens of thousands of former workers ended up in the capital, Phnom Penh, many sleeping in the streets. Some faced police harassment and arbitrary detentions. More than 10 months later, hundreds remain stranded.

“The government generally treats migrants found trapped in scam centers as offenders, and we have seen no evidence of adequate efforts to screen them for internationally recognized indicators of human trafficking,” said Li Ling, of the Eos Collective, a nonprofit dedicated to investigating human trafficking, which has helped 220 stranded workers return home.

Cambodia said in September, that it had dismantled all the larger compounds, and was prosecuting court cases linked to the scams. Last month, it said it seized assets worth $1 billion from one alleged scam network and called on Interpol to help track down 29 ringleaders. But it provided no evidence it was taking action against the Cambodian political and business elites behind the operations.

“They need to begin holding accountable evidenced elite perpetrators, not concocted, mid-level token investigations, but the … Cabinet-level members, senators and members of the prime minister’s family,” said Jacob Daniel Sims, a transnational crime expert and visiting fellow at Harvard University’s Asia Center.

Cambodian Information Minister Neth Pheaktra did not respond to detailed AP questions sent via Telegram for this report concerning Cambodia’s treatment of scam workers, the calls for prosecutions of its senior politicians, or further information about any criminal cases it is carrying out.

In response to AP questions earlier this year about the treatment of former scam workers caught up in the crackdown, Pheaktra said Cambodia “rejects claims that it is failing trafficking victims or tolerating abuse linked to scam compounds.”

“All individuals are screened to separate victims from perpetrators, with victims receiving protection, shelter, medical care and assistance for safe return,” he said, without providing evidence of any such process.

The Ghanaian man, a university graduate who speaks English fluently, couldn’t find a job in his special education field and, struggling to support his family of four, was working as a farmer. Then an acquaintance told him about what sounded like a dream opportunity: A Chinese company was looking for an English-speaking receptionist with IT skills in Cambodia.

“He told me I will be paid $1,000. The company is going to provide me with accommodation and with food,” the man said. He interviewed online and within days had a job offer, a visa and a flight paid for by the company.

There were early warning signs once he arrived in Cambodia: He was driven several hours from the airport to an unknown location, where he said his cellphone and passport were seized. He was given a two-year contract instead of one year like he’d agreed to. When he hesitated to sign, burly men threatened him.

He signed, and soon was training to be a “chatter.”

While scams differ from operation to operation, a “chatter’s” job is to solicit as many people online as possible, with a simple text message like “hello,” or something more targeted, like “are you able to work weekends?” Then comes the pitch, often using a script.

Once the victim engages in a back-and-forth, a supervisor experienced in emotional manipulation takes over to build a relationship and entice the victim to hand over their money.

The Ghanaian man said he refused to work when he realized what the job was. But he didn’t have the $6,000 demanded in repayment for bringing him to Cambodia.

After Cambodia’s crackdown, workers who had money to buy a plane ticket home got out quickly. Others went on to find similar work in other countries. But thousands wanted to go home, couldn’t afford it and got no help from their home countries.

The Ghanaian man headed to Phnom Penh, where he slept on the streets and went without food for two or three days at a time.

Henry Kyeyune, from Uganda, also slept on the street for months.

He eventually sought shelter at Caritas, a Catholic-run charity that was the only refuge for the ex-workers after the government issued a ban on providing them housing. It was full, but he slept on the ground outside in hopes of getting a spot.

While there are no comprehensive figures for how many workers left the compounds, reports from nearby countries provide a glimpse into the size and diversity of the workforce. China said in June it had repatriated more than 20,000 workers linked to scam centers, according to state broadcaster CCTV. One border province in Vietnam said it received more than 1,700 ex-workers in the first half of 2026. The Indonesian Embassy said in September it had received requests from 12,940 Indonesians for help getting home and that another 700 remain stuck in the country.

Betty O. Bigombe, Uganda’s ambassador to Malaysia, said she has helped more than 1,000 former workers navigate the complexities of getting out, mostly Ugandans like Kyeyune, but also Africans from other countries as more workers were lured into the operations from the continent.

Changing government policies were a major obstacle for the ex-workers. Many no longer had their passports and faced fines for remaining in Cambodia without proper visas. The government also started requiring interviews with immigration authorities to leave, said Li of the Eos Collective.

There were roundups by police in which ex-workers were taken to detention centers, where they’d be stuck until they could get a ticket home.

Kyeyune said he’d been sleeping outside the Caritas shelter for a week when he and others were detained. He was held for two weeks at a police station, then taken to a detention center known as Mango 2.

He spent another week there, sleeping on the floor, crowded with other workers before Bigombe helped him get a flight home.

“They keep it like a prison, we weren’t allowed to go outside,” Kyeyune said.

The Cambodian government did not respond to AP questions about why workers were taken into detention and the treatment they faced there.

The Ghanaian man was also detained in Mango 2. He was held for two weeks before he was suddenly removed by authorities in handcuffs and taken to the airport on Oct. 14. He boarded a plane to Ghana with a ticket provided by the Eos Collective.

Almost a year had passed since he arrived in Cambodia.

At times he’d thought about not going home, he said, so ashamed by what he’d gotten mixed up in and not wanting to face his family’s disapproval. His father died while he was in Cambodia, and he said he failed in his duty to help bury him.

Now back in Ghana, he said he worries about how he will rebuild his life. He doesn’t have the money to travel to his family’s home, far from the capital. He can’t even afford to buy data for his phone.

“I’m still not with my family yet, because I couldn’t transport myself there,” he wrote in a text message. “I’m still not safe yet.”