Police work rarely resembles The Shield or Line of Duty. It’s mostly paperwork, online training and referring people to driver offender courses. But sometimes life imitates art. In 2020, international police hacked the encrypted phone network EncroChat, used by organised crime gangs across the globe. For 74 days, they had access to every message and picture used to coordinate drug trafficking, money laundering, kidnap and murder. “It was the LinkedIn of organised crime,” explains Matt Horne, a former gold commander at the UK’s National Crime Agency (not the actor from Gavin & Stacey).
Operation Dark Phone: Murder By Text (Sunday, 9pm, Channel 4) is a documentary-drama cleverly built around these messages, which appear like screenplay dialogue across scenes. It’s an arresting insight into how criminal gangs work – and just as revealing, how they talk. “Sweets” are bullets, while a “pineapple” is a grenade. A violent British criminal known as Live-long, lying low in Spain, organises an acid attack on a rival, in between sending pictures of his breakfast. Cucumber slices on labneh with paprika – nice. The trick, he instructs, is to stop the victim getting to a sink. Hold them down a few minutes, so the acid can do its job. Less nice.
Incredibly, there is dark humour amid the grim. Mostly courtesy of the crims, who go by ridiculous two-word usernames on the anonymous network. There’s a Chris Morris absurdity to Mystical-steak, Valued-bridge, Top-shag. At one point, an agent explains how Live-long interacted with Ball-sniffer (who one assumes is lower down). For their part, the agents and white hats are living out the most exciting series of The Wire. In a year, they would usually encounter fewer than a hundred explicit threats to life. Once the curtain was lifted, they intercepted more than 150 in six weeks. Logistically, that’s a problem.
Detectives had access to the criminals’ messages for 74 days. Photograph: Channel 4
The show knows how to grab a viewer. Storylines develop, introduce formidable characters, and bring the action to a climax. Ace-prospect imports AKs and Glocks to the UK, one of which is bought by Live-long, who is looking to take on Ace-prospect in a personal revenge attack. Organised through go-betweens, neither side knows who they are dealing with. The NCA has a 24-hour delay when receiving message data, and must work round the clock to close the gap. When Ace-prospect’s hitman throws a pineapple into the garden of a rival, which fails to explode, the feds are faced with a dilemma: how to protect the lives of children nearby while keeping their intelligence and mission a secret?
This is all far sexier than Crimewatch. Instead of losers sticking up BP garages, here are wealthy playas orchestrating crimes from overseas. Is it ethical? Is there a risk of making the criminals look cooler than their cucumbers? The glossy recreations showcase swimming pools, gym-fit bodies, weapons familiar from movies. The actor playing Live-long looks like Claes Bang, and spends the episode with his top off. Yet this is a morality tale. “I’m gonna take his eyes out and chase him around every jail,” writes Live-long from a darkened room, his teeth-whitening gumshield glowing ultra-violet like a nightmare acid trip.
Gang members contributed to their downfall with their constant oversharing, boasting and vanity. Photograph: Channel 4
The empty glamour is not just the medium, it’s the message. These criminals’ downfall is their superficiality, their constant messaging and oversharing, their boasting and social media-amplified physical vanity. Live-long’s true identity is eventually uncovered because he sends a triumphant selfie. Can you imagine an old-school career criminal hearing that? I picture them slapping their forehead; except they’ve forgotten to unclench their fist and knock themselves out.
The show’s charge comes from knowing this is real, not merely dramatic writing. Part of that charge is fear – a reminder that there are sociopaths among us who hold life cheap and take joy in violence. Operation Dark Phone is a four-part series, from the makers of 24 Hours in Police Custody, and promises far more jaw-dropping revelations as well as some overdue justice. Don’t watch it if your faith in humanity is wavering. I’ll probably be giving pineapples in the supermarket a wide berth too, just in case.
