The strange make-believe world of a 'devious, narcissistic' serial fraudster who led a double life

For a crime writer, he’s also the gift that keeps on giving. Whether posing as good old Captain Hogwash, a solicitor or barrister, he has, when given the choice between right and wrong, consistently chosen the latter path.

Earlier this year, I was taken aback by a report in the Shropshire Star of the former special constable’s latest court appearance. Already serving six years for selling fake holidays while posing as a bogus cruise captain, the rogue has received a prison term of the same duration for ripping off his father-in-law, an 86-year-old woman and Worcester’s Cat Protection League shop.

Merthyr Tydfil Crown Court was given a detailed account of the complex, fictional existence that Oliver has created – and the depths to which he will sink.

Incredibly, he targeted the Cats Protection League while working there as part of a court community order. After suspicions were raised over his activities at a Volvo dealership, Oliver blamed it on his identical twin brother – and produced a photograph as proof.

Oliver and I are former sparring partners – and this paper’s court report does not do justice to a story which has all the makings of a Hollywood blockbuster.

Set in Oliver’s mid Wales stomping ground, its plot could rival that of 2002 Hollywood smash “Catch Me If You Can”, starring Tom Hanks and Leonardo DiCaprio: the saga of one detective’s relentless search for a fraudster.

Judge Jeremy Jenkins described Oliver as “devious and thoroughly dishonest”. That mirrors my character assessment.

The defendant’s claims of now seeing the light and his wish to help others were the “narcissistic outpourings of a fraudster”, added the judge. Again, I agree. Away from his tangled relationships, Oliver was conducting an intense love affair with himself.

I remain staggered by the layers of faux careers and claims that hid the conniving criminal’s intentions. When approaching an assignment, a journalist has to discover the answer to six key questions: Who, what, when, where, how and why?

In Oliver’s case, the gaps were filled with depressing ease. Who and what is Jody Oliver? He’s a terminal/serial fraudster. When is he a serial fraudster? Pretty much round-the-clock, 24/7. Where is he a serial fraudster? Wherever the opportunity presents itself, no qualms, no conscience. How is he a serial fraudster? In a number of ways, but predominantly by posing as men with authority.

I discovered Oliver led an elaborate and exhausting double life which near defied belief.

To his wife Laura and their three children, he was a high-flying businessman whose job required frequent trips abroad.

He boasted of interests in a number of companies, including a luxury fleet car operation, gaming machine business and funeral parlour.

Yet Companies House showed directorships of only two firms – both dissolved.

To his fiancé Rhys – a man he met on a dating site – Oliver was a dashing, dapper cruise ship captain, something he doubtless yearned to be. Unfortunately, in reality – a place Oliver was reluctantly forced to occasionally visit – he suffered from crippling sea sickness.

That did not stop him from leaving no stone unturned when playing the part. He dressed in a P&O uniform, rebranded himself Captain Jonathan Flynn, forged papers and invented crew members.

That was the sea of subterfuge Oliver swam in. During the week, he was, to his wife in Brecon, Powys, successful director Jody Oliver. At weekends, he was, to his boyfriend in Newport, South Wales, suave, sophisticated Captain Jonathan.

When he first met Rhys, Oliver had invented the role of senior manager at Jaguar Land Rover. He then spoke of an exciting career move with P&O parent company, Carnival. He wanted to marry Rhys on the Caribbean island of Aruba.

Both cheated parties were duped: neither knew of the existence of the other. They are among a list of innocent victims who bear the emotional scars of Oliver’s betrayal.

He was jailed last year for using the Captain Jonathan persona to trouser cash from unsuspecting punters for fictitious cheap cruise trips. Incredibly, when collared, Oliver told police he was battling a brain tumour that hampered memory and caused irrational behaviour. He later radically altered the dire diagnosis, informing officers he actually had sinus problems.

There’s quite a difference.

That’s two more bogus strings to the man’s bow: captain, well-heeled businessman, cancer victim and sinusitis sufferer.

There’s no doubt Jody Oliver was many different things to many different people.

During his time in Hay-on-Wye, on the Herefordshire-Wales border, Oliver served as a special constable and was seen by locals as a man who walked the extra mile.

During a previous fraud case, two even submitted character references to the court, describing the special as “polite, understanding and courageous”.

Those who had dealings with Oliver during his days selling cars in Birmingham painted a very different picture.

Motor facebook site Petrolheadonism carried a mugshot under the headline: “Fantasist, conman, confidence trickster.”

The post stated: “Calling all car dealers UK wide. This man has previous convictions for fraud, is extremely clever, but a total fantasist. I am sharing this to avoid anyone getting caught out.

“He is after his next victim, has zero conscience, absolute scum and needs to be caught now.”

The petrolheads were right, the good folk of Hay-on-Wye wrong.

To those who lost more than £300,000, in total, through the cruise ship scam, Oliver is “evil”, “a parasite” and “lowlife”, according to their victim impact statements.

Captain Jonathan, then living in Newport, South Wales, would meet them, some friends, some family, in local pub the Alma – fake ID swinging from a lanyard around his neck – and pitch his holiday offers.

Victims were persuaded to part with cash for bargain bucket cruises, one of the perks of the captain’s job. Some had even packed their bags and were waiting for the transfer to ships when the terrible truth emerged. When confronted by angry customers, Captain Jonathan attempted to fob them off with tall tales of technical issues on board and problems at sea.

He hurt many, yet part of me is, quite wrongly, impressed by the man’s sheer gall. The maritime disguise is akin to someone pretending to be a brain surgeon, and backing out only when the patient is stretched out before him on the operating table.

Much of Oliver’s ill-gotten gains were gambled away. He lost £136,000 in one year alone. He was also planning to buy a £685,000 home in Old St Mellons, close to Cardiff. When the sea scam was eventually scuppered and the counterfeit captain arrested at his parents’ home in Presteigne, Powys, he offered an explanation that was, frankly, laughable. In interview, he denied posing as a captain. People had simply got the wrong end of the stick because his nickname is “Captain” and he loves the sea. He was in very choppy, deep water and resorted to bluster.

Having followed the trail of misery from its beginning, I’m convinced the catalyst for Oliver’s offending cannot carry such simple labels as “evil” and “greed”.

I’m convinced he was immersed in a mental Never Never Land where the boundaries between fact and fiction were blurred. His world straddled fantasy and reality. It was about slipping into the guise of someone better and bathing in the respect shown by others.

Way back in 2004, Oliver was convicted of conning late rally driving legend Colin McRae simply because he craved to be a part of the motorsports set. He did not benefit financially from the deceit.

McRae was tricked, through forged documents, into believing soft drinks giant Coca-Cola was backing him with a multi-million dollar deal.

The motivation for Oliver’s actions seemed solely to befriend the star driver, Cardiff Crown Court heard.

Oliver was sentenced to 200 hours community work and ordered to pay £720 costs.

He was back in court in 2019 for fraudulently claiming back £23,000 in VAT for purchases he fabricated from four different companies.

That time he received a two-year prison sentence suspended for two years and ordered to carry out unpaid work.

Now he is behind bars and will not be freed until 2026.

That time could be extended, albeit only by another 24 hours, if he fails to repay the £1 he's been ordered to hand over from the £150,855.96 he made from defrauding his father-in-law, an 86-year-old woman and a charity shop manager.

From his cell, Oliver will, from time to time, ponder the words of Judge Jenkins: “It is all about you. Until you recognise that fact, which you do not, you will continue to be what you are – a fraud.”

Sea captain, cancer victim, business mogul... Oliver has played the part of all of them during his extraordinary criminal career.

Now “prison inmate” can be added to his CV and we can prove that’s authentic.

I may, however, be doing Oliver a disservice. He could well suffer from sinusitis.