In September, the Georgia Attorney General’s Office announced that the last two defendants in a sweeping human trafficking and gang case had been convicted, bringing to a close a multi-year campaign against the Last One To Take Over gang, better known as LOTTO. 

The verdicts against Eric Duane Johnson and Bobby Jamaine Downing marked the culmination of a sprawling 97-count prosecution that revealed how LOTTO, a hybrid street organization with ties to the Crips and Gangster Disciples, trafficked five female victims, including a child, to expand its power, reputation, and control.

Johnson pleaded guilty to charges of gang activity, racketeering, and pimping; Downing admitted involvement in human trafficking, gang crimes, and conspiracy. With their convictions, all nine individuals initially charged in the case are behind bars, including gang leaders Sean Patrick Harvey and Sean Aaron Curry.

What began with a May 2022 shooting in Gwinnett County ultimately exposed how the gang weaponized short-term rentals, in this case Airbnb, to sustain a violent human trafficking ring. By constantly moving victims — including a child — between Airbnb and other rental properties across metro Atlanta, LOTTO concealed its operations from neighbors, landlords, and police.

“This doesn’t surprise me. Mobility has always been a key factor,” an anti-trafficking consultant tells the New York Sun. Steven Turner, who has worked with victims across shelters and hospitals, said that while drug traffickers are territorial, human traffickers “are highly mobile — hotels, homes, apartments, vehicles. The longer they stay in one place, the more likely someone will notice unusual traffic at 3 a.m. Airbnb just fits into that same pattern.”

This tactic gave the gang the anonymity offered by hotels without the oversight, shielding them from detection. For law enforcement, the result was what Mr. Turner called “another war in a different context, and the casualties are monstrous.”

The Digital Labyrinth: Anonymity and Exploitation in the Gig Economy

The choice of short-term rental platforms is not accidental; it represents a tactical evolution in organized crime, fully embracing the benefits of the digital sharing economy. Traffickers, experts say, are opting for residential rentals at a time when hotels and motels are subject to more stringent local regulations, staff training, and internal oversight.

“With rentals like Airbnb, the challenge is the built-in privacy,” the director of the South Bay Coalition to End Human Trafficking, Sharan Dhanoa, tells the Sun. “There’s no front desk, no night manager. Owners aren’t usually on site. Neighbors may not even know they’re next to a rental. That lack of oversight is exactly what traffickers exploit.”

The absence of staff means there is no one on site to identify potential red flags. 

“Typically, we train hotel staff to spot signs,” Ms. Dhanoa said. “But with private rentals, who do you train? Maybe cleaners, but they’re not consistent either. Unless training is mandatory by law, most companies won’t follow through in a meaningful way.”

A spokeswoman for the Trafficking Institute, Ceci Dadisman, tells the Sun that her group’s data shows that since 2010, there have been at least 14 federal human trafficking prosecutions where the sex act occurred in a short term rental such as AirBnb or VRBO.

“Hotels may report suspected criminal activity taking place in their hotel to law enforcement. Indicators such as high volume of foot traffic, presence of underage guests, or suspected prostitution are noticeable to hotel staff and guests,” she said. “Criminal enterprises may find this lack of visibility” in a residential rental “more attractive than a more visible hotel.” 

Airbnb has acknowledged the challenge but stressed the infrequency of trafficking incidents on its platform. 

“On Airbnb, reported trafficking incidents are rare,” the company tells the Sun in a statement. “Criminal behavior has no place in our community. We take action on concerns reported to us and support law enforcement investigations through a portal and dedicated team.”

Airbnb’s official policy emphasizes that the company has a zero-tolerance policy for human trafficking and has partnered with anti-trafficking groups like Polaris and ECPAT to strengthen prevention. Its measures include employee and host training, predictive analytics to detect suspicious bookings, a dedicated law enforcement portal, and multilingual crisis resources. 

Airbnb was the first home-sharing platform to sign The Code by ECPAT, formerly known as the End Child Prostitution and Trafficking organization, committing to annual reporting and industry standards for preventing child sexual exploitation. Still, experts note that most measures remain voluntary. And for traffickers, the anonymity is alluring. 

The founder of the Human Trafficking Training Center, Dan Nash, tells the Sun that the rental platforms provide traffickers with one more avenue for their criminal activity.

“But has it changed the landscape dramatically in what we see day-to-day? I’d say no,” he continued. “Mobility has always been there. What’s new is the tech convenience.”

Closing the Gaps: Regulation, Law Enforcement, and the Human Cost

For police, the proliferation of short-term rentals has complicated detection, given the overall lack of trafficking awareness and training among law enforcement personnel. 

“Law enforcement can observe and surveil public areas of a hotel, obtain digital forensic evidence from the location through legal process, and can conduct undercover operations in a controlled manner,” Ms. Dadisman explained.

“When investigating a criminal operation in a short-term rental, it can become more difficult to discreetly set up or conduct surveillance, especially when the location is in a less visible area like a residence.”

Mr. Nash said an additional problem is a lack of law enforcement training, especially in this new frontier. 

“Only about 17 percent of law enforcement in America has any training in human trafficking,” he said. “That means 83 percent have no idea how to identify or investigate it. Even the FBI, DEA, CBP, and U.S. Marshals — they have zero minutes of training. If you want law enforcement to do this work, they need to know how.”

Mr. Nash has seen firsthand how training, when it does happen, changes outcomes. 

“We just did a training in Seattle. Two days later, an officer who had been in the session stopped a stolen car — a male driver and a female passenger. The woman had a trafficking tattoo. He told me, ‘I never would’ve known what that tattoo meant without your training,’” Mr. Nash recalled. 

“Instead of arresting her for being in a stolen car, he got her into a shelter and started investigating the driver as a trafficker. The outcome was completely different — all because now he knew what to look for and how to handle it.”

Mr. Turner underscored that identifying victims can be labor-intensive and dangerous work for law enforcement personnel, who often must rely on witnesses who interacted closely with those involved. 

“You need enough officers, overtime, and fresh faces who aren’t known in the area. Flipping victims to cooperate, wear wires, or help with controlled deliveries takes time and coordination,” he explained.

“Street-level intel from housekeepers or cleaners can also be critical — they notice condoms, clothing, drug paraphernalia. That’s often what gives police enough to move forward safely.”

Even when hotels or short-term rental hosts make reports, follow-up can falter. “If hotels or Airbnbs report prostitution, but law enforcement isn’t trained, nothing happens,” Mr. Nash said. 

His advice is blunt: “Ninety to 93 percent of all prostitution is human trafficking. So just report it. Don’t try to figure out if it’s trafficking. Let the police investigate.”

Some states are starting to respond with legislative fixes. North Carolina, for example, now requires vacation rental property managers to adopt reporting procedures and provide biannual anti-trafficking training for employees. 

Ms. Dhanoa said such laws may prove to be a model elsewhere, though cost remains a barrier.

“Industries rarely want to add new expenses unless they’re forced to,” she said. “Sometimes it takes lawsuits — survivors suing hotels, for example — to create liability pressure. That’s often what drives companies to support training laws.”

The Survivors’ Maze

Even when rings like LOTTO are dismantled, the ordeal is far from over for victims. Mr. Turner emphasized the staggering toll on survivors.

“Victims report being exploited 15 to 20 times per day. The level of sexual, physical, and mental violence is extreme,” he stressed. “Their threat radar is always on. That’s why trauma-informed approaches are critical when working with survivors.”

Research by Polaris shows that many victims were already experiencing homelessness or housing instability when recruited — 64 percent by one measure. That vulnerability fuels a cycle of exploitation. After escape, survivors often face new obstacles: criminal records tied to coerced prostitution, eviction histories, identity fraud, and untreated trauma.

Ms. Dhanoa argued that the short-term rental industry could play a bigger role in prevention. 

“Airbnb could do more by providing clear reporting information to hosts and renters. Unless that information is required, you can’t be sure it reaches everyone. A mandatory safety overview for renters would make a big difference,” she said. 

Mr. Turner echoed the need for systemic change.

“This is another war in a different context. The casualties are monstrous,” he said. “Without trauma-informed officers, victim advocates, and access to resources like detox beds or shelters, survivors stay stuck in the maze long after the traffickers are gone.”

The Georgia case may be closed, but its lessons reverberate: hybrid gangs are innovating, exploiting digital platforms to cloak violence in the everyday shuffle of guests, cars, and keyless entry codes. Whether law, industry, and law enforcement can keep pace will determine how many more victims remain trapped inside the Airbnb maze.