I was thinking that after I pull off a major cryptocurrency scam (I haven’t decided whether to launch a bogus token or run a scam art market or get into ransomware big time yet) and manage to get out of the consulting business for good, then Fiji might be an idyllic bolt hole from which to enjoy my ill-gotten gains to the end of my days. So you can imagine how upset I was that the government of Fiji is proposing a new Police Bill to give the forces of law and order the ability to “seize any digital currency that has been derived from a criminal activity”.
Fortunately for the Fijian thin blue line, the blockchain makes it easy trace the provenance of Bitcoins to see whether they have been “derived from a criminal activity”. So if they examine my stash and find cryptocurrency that originates from an Iranian bitcoin mine or a mixer, they’ve got me bang to rights. But how would they “seize” the virtual loot?
My meager cryptoscraps are stored on my new BitBox2 USB-C hardware wallet with microSD backup. The hardware wallet is wrapped in old socks inside an empty baked bean can that is hidden in my garbage can. The microSD backup is sown into the seam of a Mötorhead 1978 UK tour sweatshirt that remains one of my prized possessions. I think my coins are pretty safe from the long arm of the law, but supposing crack teams of detectives working around the clock do get hold of one or the other of these repositories, then what?
If they ask me for the password then I’ll tell them I’ve forgotten it (which will almost certainly be true by then). How will they know whether I’ve really forgotten it or whether I’m not telling them or whether I wrote it down and hid it in a fishing rod that is lost or whether I got someone else to look after the password for me?
At first, this may seem straightforward. After all, if you get arrested for something and tell the police that you forgot the PIN for your phone then you can be sent to jail.