An organism trapped in resin forty million years ago is a genuinely extraordinary object, and the market prices it accordingly. That price is what produces the fakes, and the fakes have a consistent signature: they are too good.
Consider what actually happens when an insect is caught in fresh resin. It struggles, so the body is contorted and legs and wings are often torn or missing. The resin flows in stages, so there are usually flow lines, layers, and debris — plant fragments, bark, other smaller organisms, air bubbles. Decay proceeds before the resin seals it, so the specimen is frequently partly hollow or discoloured. And as the resin shrinks over millions of years, stress fractures radiate outward from the inclusion.
A manufactured inclusion has none of that. A modern insect is placed in a mould, resin is poured, and the result is a whole, undamaged, cleanly presented specimen floating in optically perfect material with no debris, no flow structure and no stress halo. It is also very often the wrong size — genuine amber inclusions are usually small, because a large insect had a better chance of escaping.
The one further check is the boundary. In genuine material the insect and the amber are the same object with no interface. In a two-stage casting there is frequently a faint plane or a slight difference in clarity where the second pour met the first, visible when the piece is turned in a strong light.