Ben Armstrong, a spokesman for Peco, says scams like the cruel one played on Mogck occur more often in the cold months than at any other time of year.
"We don't know why, but the scams happen predominantly in winter," says Armstrong. "December and January, we noticed a big increase."
Even thieves have ski expenses, I guess.
Armstrong says that Peco's latest mailing warns customers that scamming is on an uptick by those trying to get into private homes by impersonating Peco workers.
Other scammers use the phone, posing as bill collectors who threaten to cut power if a payment isn't made, pronto.
"Customers have lost anywhere from $60 to $400," Armstrong says.
The worst scammers are those who target old people. If there's a place in hell for these creeps, I'll gladly drive them there, I tell State Trooper Kelly Pearson.
He investigates "transient nontraditional organized criminals," who differ from other organized-crime groups - like the mob, say, or motorcycle gangs - in that they travel long distances to commit their deeds, then vanish.
"Most of them are gypsies," he says, using the slang (some say derogatory) for those in the Romany community. The ones whom Pearson deals with give their culture a bad name.
"They'll park outside a supermarket and wait for elderly customers to leave. Then they follow them home" and use a ruse to get into the house.
While the homeowner is distracted, the accomplices steal money and jewelry. They're so slippery, it might take the victims weeks or months to realize a theft occurred. When they do, their age works against them.
Since there was no sign of forced entry, "police might think victims are just forgetful, because they're old," Pearson said. "And then victims don't want to tell their family what happened, because they don't want to be seen as unable to live on their own any more. They're afraid of losing their independence."
It's just so mean.
Pearson tells of the time his investigators got a tip that a team of gypsy men, operating out of an Upper Darby home, was about to go on a spree.
The troopers bird-dogged the house then followed the men as they drove 45 minutes north, to Quakertown. Along the way, the men tried and failed several times to gain access to various homes.
Finally, the thieves passed an elderly women on a slow run in her jogging suit. They turned around and followed her back to her housing complex. Pearson's team watched the men enter the woman's home.
"Her window was open, and we could hear one of the guys tell her he was with the water company and was investigating reports of poison in the water," says Pearson. "He took her into the kitchen to turn on the tap while his friends went upstairs to look around."
Pearson and his team waited until the men left the house. Outside, after some struggle, they made their arrests (one perp got away but was soon tracked down in New York).
Inside, the elderly victim had no idea she'd been burglarized. Nor, apparently, do other victims of similar schemes.
Pearson tells of the time his team confiscated a van used in a theft and it contained jewelry from prior jobs.
"We checked its GPS to find out where it had been and then we contacted every law-enforcement district" associated with the stops, he says. But none of the police had gotten reports of stolen jewelry.
"We know it was stolen," Pearson says. "We just don't know who it was stolen from."
Jewelry can be sold to unscrupulous pawn or metal dealers, so there's always an outlet for boosted booty.
There's no outlet, obviously, for cremated remains like those that John Mogck desperately wishes would be returned to him, so he can do right by his late, beloved wife.
Sadly, creeps have no hearts. No matter the weather.
On Twitter: @RonniePhilly