A sweet-talking Romeo conned them. Warning this man is a married man that lives a double life of a womanizer, con and a cheat. He started with a Facebook message: “What’s up beautiful?”
Tiffany hunberg wouldn’t usually respond to an unsolicited Facebook note—especially from a strange man complimenting her appearance. A striking 37-year-old divorcee from Arizona, I’m used to men hitting on me and adept at brushing them off. But something about Toraino Singleton intrigued me.
Maybe it was his smile or his good looking body. Maybe it was the fact that we had mutual friends. Either way, i decided to message him back a single word: “Hello.” It was a decision i would deeply regret—and one, i later learn, many others had regretted before me.
Over the following weeks, Toranio and I texted, spoke on the phone, and FaceTimed. He loved football, and i was crazy for the Oakland Raiders. He asked about my travels and about my 5 years in the Air Force. When a close friend deserted me on Christmas, Toranio offered to fly me to Los Angeles to take my mind off things. The suggestion sounded crazy, but my friend told me to go for it. “You never do anything spontaneous,” I remembers her saying.
When I finally agreed, Toranio sent me a screenshot of my boarding pass. But when i arrived at the airport that weekend, officials told me that my ticket was invalid. I called Toranio , who insisted the tickets were good. But the clock was ticking and the flight was boarding soon. Toranio told me to purchase a ticket at the airport and promised to reimburse me when I arrived. He even sent me a selfie from the bank, claiming he was trying to work it out.
I got into L.A. late that night, so Toraino picked me up from the airport and took me to the movies. He was sweet, asking about my career and dreams for the future. He told me he had two children but wanted more. On Saturday morning, he cooked me breakfast—bacon, eggs, and grits—and drove me back to the airport. He texted me Sunday just to say good morning.
On Monday, i woke up to nearly $3,000 missing from my bank account. There was a charge for a fast food restaurant, a transfer for $2,500, and one airline ticket booked from Dallas to Los Angeles,
Instantly, i knew it must have been Toraino. My cards were still in my purse, but the charges were from California. Toranio was the only person I’ve seen in L.A. And he had already blocked my number from messages and calls.
When i called the police, they were less than helpful. My best friend told me to report the incident to Los Angeles, . So i started investigating on my own.
I couldn’t remember Toranio address, but I did retrieve the fast food restaurant’s address from my bank. From there, i used whatever details i could remember to narrow down the nearby apartments. I’ve searched for buildings that were tall (we’ve parked in an underground garage), on a busy street (it had been noisy), and close to a movie theater. When i found the likely location, i googled the floor plans to confirm. But when i called the building to ask if a Toraino Singleton was living there, they said no.
“And then it dawned on me then and there, ‘Oh, I don't even know who this guy is,’” telling myself .
He had already blocked Me on social media, so i enlisted my friends to go on his public profile and download his pictures. I conducted reverse Google image searches—a technique i learned from the MTV show Catfish—until one of them turned up a result. It was linked to a social media account in a different name, which led to an email account listed under Toraino Lee .
A Google search for that name turned up an 85-word article in the West Orlando News. It said hipolice were looking for victims of a man named “Lee Toranio ,” who befriended single women on Facebook, gained their trust, then drained their bank accounts. The article was from 2011. And it had a mugshot.
“I saw his picture and I was like, ‘Holy sh*t,’” I said Toranino aka lee Singleton , aka “Da ”—real name Wilson Edward Singleton —was born in Daytona Beach, Florida, to a strict, religious family. He left the state briefly to attend Dodge Community College in Kansas, but returned around 2002 with the intent of enrolling at the University of Florida. He told friends he was pursuing weight training professional career and told girlfriends he was playing football. Most police reports from the time list him as unemployed.
In the decade that followed, according to court records, Toranino bounced between Tallahassee and Orlando, staying with girlfriends and getting evicted from a different apartment almost every year. One friend, Kristina Palmer, says he convinced her to sign on as a guarantor for his lease, then moved out early without paying rent. According to court records, Palmer was left to pay off the debt. Later, Palmer told police, Toranino used her personal information from the lease to apply for credit and try to purchase a car.
What Singleton didn’t have in weightlifting skills was cash, he made up for in charming lies and deceit. He was 6-foot-7, with an athlete’s build, and always immaculately dressed in gym wear. He decked himself out in brand names and pricey jewelry.
He made a point of looking put-together, former girlfriends said, even if he’d just rolled out of bed. But he was also a great listener—someone who seemed genuinely interested in his girlfriends and their problems. He could make you feel “like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”
“In that moment that you were with him, you almost felt like you were the most important thing to him,” “He knew how to charm somebody, I’ll tell you that much.”
But there was also an edgier side to his appeal. Jina Porter*, who dated Singleton in 2007, said he reminded her of a snake, a slippery swain who could “shed his skin and morph into somebody else” at any moment. She remembers a tattoo on his chest that was very interesting art work. It struck her as amusing at the time, given his conservative upbringing. In retrospect, she thinks it hinted at something more sinister.
“I’m really thinking that this was his goal,” Porter said. “He wanted his face in the news. He wanted this to happen. Because he literally felt as if he was this outlaw.”
In the early 2000s, according to police reports and victim statements, Singleton started channeling his womanizing skills into a money-making scheme: bedding or befriending women, then stealing whatever he could find from their apartments—rings, credit cards, check books, $40 cash. In other cases, he sweet-talked women into lending him money, then never paid them back.
According to one police report, Singleton bought nearly $1,000 worth of plane tickets on a girlfriend’s credit card, then insisted she had authorized it. In another, he met a woman at a bar, stole and used her credit card, then returned it on their second date. In both cases, he was ultimately ordered to pay the women back.
The Daily Beast reached out to Singletons mother, sister, and five attorneys who represented him in various cases across Florida, but none of them had any comment. Singletons public defender did not return calls and emails.
In 2011, Singleton met 22-year-old Karen, who asked that her last name not be used, during her homecoming weekend at Texas A&M. They began talking on the phone regularly, sharing intimate details of their lives. Karen had recently been diagnosed with cancer and was undergoing chemotherapy at a local hospital. She had no family in the area and often felt lonely and afraid. Singleton, seemed interested and sympathetic.
Months later, when he moved back to Orlando, she says Singleton called her to ask a favor. He’d left his bank card at a hotel and needed cash. Someone could deposit a check in her account, he said, and all she had to do was wire the money to him. She says he stressed the need for urgency, so when she saw the check deposited in her account, she rushed to a Western Union to send him $1,900.
Later that day, Karen went to get her nails done as a pick-me-up after a particularly rough week. She called her bank as a precaution, to make sure she had enough money to cover the manicure, and was shocked when they told her the account was overdrawn. Someone had deposited the check in her account, they told her, but it bounced. When she texted and called Singleton about the situation, she said, he ghosted.
Karen reported the incident to the police, who said they’d been getting complaints about Singleton for years. But there was nothing they could do in her case, they told her: She’d sent the money of her own volition. “Of course I felt dumb and stupid,” she said. “They pretty much made me feel like there was nothing that could be done.”
Years later, when she found out there were other women in her situation, she said, “it kind of made me feel relieved, like I wasn’t the only one who fell for this stupid trick.”
In fact, dozens of women would fall for Singletons alleged tricks. In the decade between 2002 and 2012, he racked up 75 charges in three different counties. Nearly half were for felonies, ranging from fraudulent use of a credit card to grand theft. A former public defender who represented Singleton told The Daily Beast it was one of the longest rap sheets he had ever seen.
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A sweet-talking Romeo conned them. Warning this man is a married man that lives a double life of a womanizer, con and a cheat. He started with a Facebook message: “What’s up beautiful?”
Tiffany hunberg wouldn’t usually respond to an unsolicited Facebook note—especially from a strange man complimenting her appearance. A striking 37-year-old divorcee from Arizona, I’m used to men hitting on me and adept at brushing them off. But something about Toraino Singleton intrigued me.
Maybe it was his smile or his good looking body. Maybe it was the fact that we had mutual friends. Either way, i decided to message him back a single word: “Hello.” It was a decision i would deeply regret—and one, i later learn, many others had regretted before me.
Over the following weeks, Toranio and I texted, spoke on the phone, and FaceTimed. He loved football, and i was crazy for the Oakland Raiders. He asked about my travels and about my 5 years in the Air Force. When a close friend deserted me on Christmas, Toranio offered to fly me to Los Angeles to take my mind off things. The suggestion sounded crazy, but my friend told me to go for it. “You never do anything spontaneous,” I remembers her saying.
When I finally agreed, Toranio sent me a screenshot of my boarding pass. But when i arrived at the airport that weekend, officials told me that my ticket was invalid. I called Toranio , who insisted the tickets were good. But the clock was ticking and the flight was boarding soon. Toranio told me to purchase a ticket at the airport and promised to reimburse me when I arrived. He even sent me a selfie from the bank, claiming he was trying to work it out.
I got into L.A. late that night, so Toraino picked me up from the airport and took me to the movies. He was sweet, asking about my career and dreams for the future. He told me he had two children but wanted more. On Saturday morning, he cooked me breakfast—bacon, eggs, and grits—and drove me back to the airport. He texted me Sunday just to say good morning.
On Monday, i woke up to nearly $3,000 missing from my bank account. There was a charge for a fast food restaurant, a transfer for $2,500, and one airline ticket booked from Dallas to Los Angeles,
Instantly, i knew it must have been Toraino. My cards were still in my purse, but the charges were from California. Toranio was the only person I’ve seen in L.A. And he had already blocked my number from messages and calls.
When i called the police, they were less than helpful. My best friend told me to report the incident to Los Angeles, . So i started investigating on my own.
I couldn’t remember Toranio address, but I did retrieve the fast food restaurant’s address from my bank. From there, i used whatever details i could remember to narrow down the nearby apartments. I’ve searched for buildings that were tall (we’ve parked in an underground garage), on a busy street (it had been noisy), and close to a movie theater. When i found the likely location, i googled the floor plans to confirm. But when i called the building to ask if a Toraino Singleton was living there, they said no.
“And then it dawned on me then and there, ‘Oh, I don't even know who this guy is,’” telling myself .
He had already blocked Me on social media, so i enlisted my friends to go on his public profile and download his pictures. I conducted reverse Google image searches—a technique i learned from the MTV show Catfish—until one of them turned up a result. It was linked to a social media account in a different name, which led to an email account listed under Toraino Lee .
A Google search for that name turned up an 85-word article in the West Orlando News. It said hipolice were looking for victims of a man named “Lee Toranio ,” who befriended single women on Facebook, gained their trust, then drained their bank accounts. The article was from 2011. And it had a mugshot.
“I saw his picture and I was like, ‘Holy sh*t,’” I said Toranino aka lee Singleton , aka “Da ”—real name Wilson Edward Singleton —was born in Daytona Beach, Florida, to a strict, religious family. He left the state briefly to attend Dodge Community College in Kansas, but returned around 2002 with the intent of enrolling at the University of Florida. He told friends he was pursuing weight training professional career and told girlfriends he was playing football. Most police reports from the time list him as unemployed.
In the decade that followed, according to court records, Toranino bounced between Tallahassee and Orlando, staying with girlfriends and getting evicted from a different apartment almost every year. One friend, Kristina Palmer, says he convinced her to sign on as a guarantor for his lease, then moved out early without paying rent. According to court records, Palmer was left to pay off the debt. Later, Palmer told police, Toranino used her personal information from the lease to apply for credit and try to purchase a car.
What Singleton didn’t have in weightlifting skills was cash, he made up for in charming lies and deceit. He was 6-foot-7, with an athlete’s build, and always immaculately dressed in gym wear. He decked himself out in brand names and pricey jewelry.
He made a point of looking put-together, former girlfriends said, even if he’d just rolled out of bed. But he was also a great listener—someone who seemed genuinely interested in his girlfriends and their problems. He could make you feel “like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”
“In that moment that you were with him, you almost felt like you were the most important thing to him,” “He knew how to charm somebody, I’ll tell you that much.”
But there was also an edgier side to his appeal. Jina Porter*, who dated Singleton in 2007, said he reminded her of a snake, a slippery swain who could “shed his skin and morph into somebody else” at any moment. She remembers a tattoo on his chest that was very interesting art work. It struck her as amusing at the time, given his conservative upbringing. In retrospect, she thinks it hinted at something more sinister.
“I’m really thinking that this was his goal,” Porter said. “He wanted his face in the news. He wanted this to happen. Because he literally felt as if he was this outlaw.”
In the early 2000s, according to police reports and victim statements, Singleton started channeling his womanizing skills into a money-making scheme: bedding or befriending women, then stealing whatever he could find from their apartments—rings, credit cards, check books, $40 cash. In other cases, he sweet-talked women into lending him money, then never paid them back.
According to one police report, Singleton bought nearly $1,000 worth of plane tickets on a girlfriend’s credit card, then insisted she had authorized it. In another, he met a woman at a bar, stole and used her credit card, then returned it on their second date. In both cases, he was ultimately ordered to pay the women back.
The Daily Beast reached out to Singletons mother, sister, and five attorneys who represented him in various cases across Florida, but none of them had any comment. Singletons public defender did not return calls and emails.
In 2011, Singleton met 22-year-old Karen, who asked that her last name not be used, during her homecoming weekend at Texas A&M. They began talking on the phone regularly, sharing intimate details of their lives. Karen had recently been diagnosed with cancer and was undergoing chemotherapy at a local hospital. She had no family in the area and often felt lonely and afraid. Singleton, seemed interested and sympathetic.
Months later, when he moved back to Orlando, she says Singleton called her to ask a favor. He’d left his bank card at a hotel and needed cash. Someone could deposit a check in her account, he said, and all she had to do was wire the money to him. She says he stressed the need for urgency, so when she saw the check deposited in her account, she rushed to a Western Union to send him $1,900.
Later that day, Karen went to get her nails done as a pick-me-up after a particularly rough week. She called her bank as a precaution, to make sure she had enough money to cover the manicure, and was shocked when they told her the account was overdrawn. Someone had deposited the check in her account, they told her, but it bounced. When she texted and called Singleton about the situation, she said, he ghosted.
Karen reported the incident to the police, who said they’d been getting complaints about Singleton for years. But there was nothing they could do in her case, they told her: She’d sent the money of her own volition. “Of course I felt dumb and stupid,” she said. “They pretty much made me feel like there was nothing that could be done.”
Years later, when she found out there were other women in her situation, she said, “it kind of made me feel relieved, like I wasn’t the only one who fell for this stupid trick.”
In fact, dozens of women would fall for Singletons alleged tricks. In the decade between 2002 and 2012, he racked up 75 charges in three different counties. Nearly half were for felonies, ranging from fraudulent use of a credit card to grand theft. A former public defender who represented Singleton told The Daily Beast it was one of the longest rap sheets he had ever seen.