Why You Should Never Set Your House on Fire for Insurance Money

Last Updated on September 19, 2025 by Michael

Okay, so you’re broke.

Like, checking-couch-cushions-for-gas-money broke. Googling “can you eat dog food if you season it” broke. Your house looks like a before photo that never got an after, the roof leaks like Edward Snowden, and you’re pretty sure that smell in the basement isn’t just mold anymore—it’s evolved. It has opinions now.

Then you get The Idea.

That beautiful, terrible, absolutely-going-to-ruin-your-life idea: burn it all down and collect the insurance money.

Buddy. Pal. Future defendant. Let’s talk about why this is the worst plan since New Coke.

You’re Going to Get Caught (Because You’re Not That Smart)

Look, no offense, but you’re the same person who had to Google how to boil water last week. You think you’re going to outsmart a team of investigators who literally went to Catching Arsonists University?

These people have degrees. Multiple degrees. In Fire Science. That’s a real thing! They have machines that can detect what brand of matches you used, what you had for breakfast, and probably your deepest fears.

Insurance investigators aren’t like cops on TV who need a confession. They’re like that kid from high school who reminded teachers about homework, except now they have subpoena power and forensic equipment.

Your Neighbors Are Snitches (And They Should Be)

Karen next door has been waiting for this moment since you moved in.

She’s documented every weird thing you’ve done since 2019. She has a three-ring binder labeled “Suspicious Behavior” with subdivisions and a table of contents. There’s probably a PowerPoint.

That time you carried five gas cans into your garage while humming the Mission Impossible theme? Documented. Your sudden interest in “fire-resistant safes”? Screen-shotted from your public Facebook. The Saturday you spent teaching yourself to juggle flaming torches in the driveway? She has 4K video from multiple angles.

The second—and this is important—the SECOND investigators start knocking on doors, it’s over. Your neighbors will flip on you faster than a pancake at IHOP. Larry from across the street has been DYING to tell someone about your “weird vibe.” Janet from two houses down already has her testimony prepared. She laminated it.

Prison Is Exactly as Bad as You Think (Actually, Worse)

You know what they serve for breakfast in federal prison?

Sadness. With a side of regret.

The coffee tastes like someone described coffee to a person who hates joy, and then that person made it out of burnt rubber and disappointment. You’ll dream about gas station coffee. You’ll write sonnets about Folgers.

Your cellmate? Goes by “Stabby Mike.” Collects things. Weird things. Keeps them under his pillow, which is eighteen inches from your pillow. Makes eye contact while he counts them at night.

The toilet is literally three feet from where you sleep. You’ll learn to poop while maintaining eye contact with a stranger, which is a skill nobody needs but everyone in prison has. It’s like the world’s worst superpower.

Here’s Tuesday’s lunch menu: “Meat.” Not chicken. Not beef. Not even a specific animal. Just… meat. It’s gray. It bounces. Scientists have examined it and they’re “pretty sure” it’s protein.

The Math Is Bad (Like, Really Bad)

Criminal defense attorney: $200,000 (and that’s the cheap one who lost his last nine cases) Fines: $250,000 Restitution: Whatever the insurance company says, plus interest Your reputation: Gone forever Your Google results: “Local Idiot Attempts Arson, Fails Immediately”

You’ll be paying this off until the sun explodes. Your great-grandchildren will inherit your debt. They’ll have to explain at parties why grandpa’s Wikipedia page redirects to “World’s Dumbest Criminals.”

Your Excuse Is Garbage and Everyone Knows It

“The toaster exploded!”

No, it didn’t.

“I was deep-frying a turkey at 3 AM as one does!”

Sure, Jan.

“Spontaneous combustion is real and it happened to my house!”

The jury’s not even pretending to deliberate. They’re playing Wordle.

You’re going to stand there, sweating through your bargain-bin suit, trying to explain why you Googled “how to make fire look accidental” forty-seven times last month. Your lawyer—the one you found on a bus bench—will be updating his LinkedIn during your testimony.

The Investigation Will Be Your Personal Hell

Think you have anxiety now? Wait until you’re under federal investigation.

Every unknown number is the FBI. Every knock at the door is a SWAT team. Every time you see someone with a clipboard, you’ll assume they’re documenting your crimes. You’ll sweat through shirts just hearing the word “accelerant.”

They’ll find everything:

• Your Amazon history (why did you buy 47 candles on the same day?)
• Your texts (“lol what if the house just burned down wouldn’t that be crazy “)
• Your Venmo history (“Definitely not arson supplies” is not the clever label you thought it was)
• That TikTok draft where you practiced your “shocked” face
• Your search history (oh god, your search history)

The FBI agent assigned to your case? He’s bored. You’re Tuesday’s easy win. He’s literally doing this investigation while also planning his kid’s birthday party. You’re not even interesting enough to be his main case.

Better Ideas That Won’t Land You in Federal Prison

Sell feet pics. People are weird about feet. It’s disturbing but legal.

Join an MLM. Sure, everyone will hate you, but at least you won’t be in prison.

Become one of those people who stands outside stores spinning signs. Humiliating? Yes. Federal crime? No.

Sell plasma until you’re medically concerning. Marry someone boring for their credit score. Breed hamsters competitively. Become a mime. Start a GoFundMe with a really embarrassing medical condition. Fake your own death and start over (wait, no, that’s also illegal, scratch that).

The point is: literally ANYTHING else.

You Could Actually Kill Someone, You Absolute Walnut

Fire doesn’t respect property lines. It doesn’t stop spreading because you only meant to commit insurance fraud, not murder.

Those college kids renting next door? Dead. Mrs. Patterson who brings you cookies? Super dead. The firefighters who respond? In mortal danger because of your financial problems.

That’s manslaughter at minimum. That’s explaining to Saint Peter that you killed three people because you couldn’t figure out refinancing. That’s your legacy being “killed neighbors for insurance money, didn’t even get the insurance money.”

You want to be remembered as the person whose poverty literally killed people? That’s the hill you’re dying on? (Potentially literally if you trap yourself in your own arson, which, let’s be honest, you probably would.)

A Brief Word About Fire Investigators

These people can tell how hot a fire burned, what started it, what accelerant you used, and what you were thinking when you lit it. They’re basically wizards but with science degrees and subpoena power.

They’ll know you used gasoline instead of lighter fluid. They’ll know you Googled “does gasoline leave evidence” (it does). They’ll know you tried to make it look electrical but forgot electricity doesn’t work like that.

You’re playing checkers. They’re playing 4D chess. Actually, no—they’re not even playing. They already won. They’re just filling out paperwork while you sweat through your third shirt of the interrogation.

Your Life After Prison (Spoiler Alert: It’s Garbage)

Assuming you somehow survive prison without becoming part of Stabby Mike’s collection, congratulations! You’re now a felon.

You can’t vote (depending on your state). You can’t own a gun (ironic). You can’t get a job anywhere that runs background checks (everywhere). You can’t rent an apartment from anyone with Wi-Fi. You can’t travel to countries that Google their visitors. You can’t explain the ten-year gap in your resume without crying.

Your dating profile will autocorrect to “convicted arsonist.” Your mom will introduce you as “my son, the one who… you know.” Every job interview will end the moment they Google you.

You’ll be the cautionary tale parents tell their children. You’ll be the “at least you’re not…” in every comparison. You’ll be a Wikipedia footnote in an article about insurance fraud that high school students cite in their essays about poor decision-making.

Just… Don’t

Your house sucks. Your life is hard. The economy is garbage and everything feels impossible.

But you know what’s more impossible? Successfully committing insurance fraud in 2024 when every doorbell is a camera, every purchase is tracked, and every Google search is saved forever.

They will catch you. Not might. Will.

You’ll go to prison, where the coffee is a human rights violation and your cellmate collects toenails. You’ll destroy your life, potentially kill innocent people, and become a cautionary tale told at insurance conferences.

There are bad ideas, terrible ideas, and then there’s your plan. Your plan is what happens when bad ideas have babies with terrible ideas and those babies are raised by worse ideas.

Don’t do it.

Find another way.

Any other way.

Because the only thing worse than being broke is being broke in federal prison while Stabby Mike shows you his collection.

You’ve been warned.