My friend faked CANCER to trap my cousin in a relationship – she starved herself & shaved her head, then stole £31k

JAMIE Campbell, 26, got on well with her cousin's girlfriend Lucy and was devastated when she found out Lucy had cancer.

But after months of supporting her pal through chemotherapy she discovered it had all been a con.

Here, Jamie, from Australia, exclusively shares her story with Fabulous

I’d just broken up with my boyfriend and was looking for somewhere to live.

“Your cousin Brad’s got a spare room,” my mum said. We’d grown up together and were close.

“It’ll be good to have some help with the rent,” Brad said when I called him. So I moved in. It was August 2017.

Brad was a soldier. He’d lost friends overseas. Though he didn’t talk about his job much, I knew the loss of his mates had deeply hurt him.

It meant he lived for today and wasn’t interested in serious relationships. He was too nice a guy to be a player, but there were plenty of girls around.

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Around December he mentioned he was seeing someone new.

He said: “Her name is Lucy Wieland. She’s coming over. Just letting you know, it’s nothing serious and I’m seeing other people, but she’s a bit keen.”

I laughed: “Okay Brad.”

Lucy, a beauty therapist, came over and I could see right away she was Brad’s type, slim, petite and pretty. She was quiet, but friendly. I saw a lot of her after that and we became friends.

One night, when Brad was away, she invited me round for dinner. She started talking about how she’d met Brad, saying he’d basically rescued her from an abusive previous relationship.


The way she lit up, I could see she was really into him.

I took a deep breath. I said: “Look, I love Brad, but I think it’s only fair to warn you I don’t think he wants the same thing as you right now."

But I might as well have been talking to the wall. She said: “We get on so well though. We really click and I really want to be with him.” She’d fallen hard.

“Okay,” I shrugged. I’d done my bit for the sisterhood and warned her. They continued seeing each other. She was always around.

I suspected Brad would lose interest, as he usually did after a while. But I hoped not. Lucy and I had become close friends.

One day in March when Brad was away training she turned up looking upset. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

She said: “I’ve been seeing my doctor lately about some bleeding, fatigue and stomach pains. I’ve just been told today I’ve got ovarian cancer.”

I burst into tears. I didn’t know much about cancer but I knew ovarian cancer was one of the bad ones. “Oh Lucy!” I cried, hugging her. “You’re young. You can fight it."

“The doctor said my chances were slim,” she choked. It was just awful.

“What did Brad say?” I asked.

“I haven’t been able to get hold of him yet,” she said.

Before she left Lucy gave me some leaflets on ovarian cancer. “This will tell you more,” she said bravely.

I was so upset afterwards I had to call my mum. Lucy eventually got through to Brad. He looked devastated when he got home. “I’m so sorry mate,” I said, giving him a hug.

Bravely, Lucy gave him a way out. “She said I didn’t have to stick around,” he sighed. “We’ve not been seeing each other long.”

I didn’t have to ask what he was going to do. “I told her I’d support her,” he said. Soon after, Lucy moved in. Their relationship, previously casual, now became official.

She started a blog, documenting her fight with cancer and posted regularly on Instagram and Facebook.

At first, Lucy didn’t really look sick. She tidied up the apartment, bought plants and furnishings and turned it into a real home. She even cooked for me and Brad.

We were all trying to eat healthy, especially Lucy, who cut out alcohol too, so that was great.

She started a blog, documenting her fight with cancer and posted regularly on Instagram and Facebook.

I thought she was an absolute inspiration, especially her attitude. She’d make jokes about having cancer. Sometimes though she was in tears.

“I’ll never get to have kids,” she cried on my shoulder one night. She had surgery to harvest her eggs and started chemotherapy. It really knocked her about.

She spent days on the couch or in bed. There was a tube in her chest and her stomach for the drug.

I always knew when she was having chemo because she’d put her schedule up on a chalk board in the kitchen.

Those days I made a special effort, bought her flowers or little gifts, called on the way home from work to see if there was anything she needed. I cooked and cleaned for her.

She was only a few years older than me and she was dying. It was horrible.

“Oh my God, what am I going to do?” she cried one night. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”



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“Lucy, just keep fighting and doing what you’re doing and listening to the doctors,” I said. It never felt like enough.

Brad was away one night when she confessed she was craving a drink.

“Stuff it!” she grinned. “Let’s go down the pub. I’m going to die anyway!” I couldn’t help but laugh.

We went to our local and I shouted her drinks all night. I felt privileged to be able to bring a little joy into her life. By the end of July Lucy was really sick.

She barely ate a thing, was constantly leaning over a bucket or the toilet gagging, and was losing a lot of weight.
I decided she and Brad needed their space so in August I moved out. Lucy deteriorated rapidly.

Not long after I popped round to collect some stuff. She shuffled over to me on a walking stick and was bald.

“Does it look bad?” she asked, touching her head.

“Oh my God Lucy,” I choked, fighting back tears.

“The doctors say I’ve got about six months now,” she said sadly.

I spotted a GoFundMePage had been set up for her shortly after. I made a donation and by the next day thousands of dollars had poured in.

Over the next couple of months I repeatedly tried to get together with Lucy but she was always busy.

Then, in October she contacted me, upset. She said: “I got a message on Instagram from a fake profile. This woman is saying she’d tried to send me flowers in hospital but they had no record of me there.

"All I’d done though was ask the hospital not to give out my personal information.”

I was outraged someone could be so cruel. I blasted the woman online.

I spotted a GoFundMePage had been set up for her shortly after. I made a donation and by the next day thousands of dollars had poured in.

I said: “This is none of your business. Lucy does not need to disclose her personal details to you.”

“I knew you’d stick up for me,” Lucy said.

A few days later I was on a lunch break at work and scrolling through the local newspaper.

A story came up saying a 27-year-old Douglas woman had been arrested for faking cancer. It was Lucy.

The paper has got it wrong. Lucy’s sick, I told myself. I called her and Brad but there was no answer. So I called his best mate. He told me the police had their phones.

I burst into tears. What’s going on? I thought.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I support you 100%,” I texted Lucy.

Pretty soon, everyone in our home city of Townsville seemed to know. My grandmother contacted me. She’d met Lucy once.

She said: “Love, I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but when she visited me she spent the whole time complaining about you.

I was stunned. None of it was true.

If Lucy could lie about that I suddenly realised she could lie about anything.

“She didn’t have a nice thing to say. She said you were always too busy to help her, never did any cleaning and wouldn’t leave the apartment even though she and Brad wanted you out.”

I texted her: "You’re a piece of s***. I never want to speak to you again.”

I felt like a fool. I’d been played. I realised Lucy had starved herself to lose weight.

She’d even shaved her head and stuck holes in her body for the tubes to convince everyone she was on chemo.

The vomiting, the tears, the days on the couch, it was all a big act.

I reckoned even her claims about an abusive previous partner were lies.

That and the fake cancer, it was all designed to trap Brad. He moved out of the place they shared.

He was shellshocked when we met. He said: “I still can’t believe it."

I said: “She didn’t do it for the money. It was about hanging on to you.”

She’d even shaved her head and stuck holes in her body for the tubes to convince everyone she was on chemo.

He nodded. “I know,” he replied sadly. Lucy moved in with her parents.

At her trial in earlier this year she admitted three counts of fraud and one of possession of a restricted drug.

She’d conned generous donors, including Brad, out of more than £31,000. Brad borrowed nearly ten grand to help her pay for treatments.

She was jailed for two years. I couldn’t get to the sentence hearing, but there was a huge bombshell.

Her lawyer announced she was pregnant.

Obviously, since it had been almost two years since their split, Brad wasn’t the father.

I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor bloke who was. I reckon she got pregnant deliberately to get a lighter sentence.

She can apply for parole in February. I was appalled.

Brad’s not been in a relationship since Lucy. He finds it hard to trust people. So do I. I feel betrayed.

But the real victims are all the women out there battling ovarian cancer.

It’s one of the deadliest cancers of all and Lucy Wieland made a mockery of their pain.

Meanwhile "Wellness guru" Belle Gibson who faked cancer to flog her cookbook went on a shopping and gambling spree despite owing £240k for exploiting sick fans.

Previously we shared how a terminally ill cancer woman, 28, was given just days to live after shunning chemo to enjoy her last hours shares heartbreaking final photos.

From battling cancer to trekking Antarctica, these brave women share their inspiring stories.

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