The phone call came in as a minor road traffic collision. A motorbike and a car had clipped each other in June 2018, and in the chaos, the rider dropped his phone and fled the scene. A member of the public picked it up and handed it to police. It seemed like a small opportunity—identify the owner, deal with a few driving offenses.

But when officers switched the device on, they found no PIN lock. Inside were dozens of conversations about supplying and using cocaine. More damning were the photos: what appeared to be kilo blocks of cocaine, stamped with cartel markings. A single block could carry a street value of up to £100,000.
The phone belonged to a man named Jonathan Gracet. At first, it looked like we had a standalone drug dealer. Then I started to dig deeper, and I realized we weren’t just dealing with a lone seller. We were dealing with an organized crime group.
Jonathan wasn’t just advertising to users. He was advertising to other known drug dealers across Cardiff. That caught our attention immediately. Where did this man sit in the network, and what role was he playing?
As we spent hours decoding his messages, one name kept surfacing: Scrappy. Scrappy was instructing Jonathan to collect cash from other runners. Whoever Scrappy was, he was managing the gang and pulling the strings. Slowly, we got a name.
People talked about James, then referred to him as Scrappy. We looked at his social media—his username was scrappyc. From there, we traced his phone numbers. James Connors.
He was well known to police. We knew who he was, who he was linked to, and exactly what he was involved in. We felt like we’d hit the jackpot. The gang operated on a model that trapped vulnerable users.
Buy drugs on tick now, pay later. That encourages people to come back, but it also makes them vulnerable. If they accumulate a large debt, they may be forced to deal drugs for the group to pay it off. It’s having a devastating effect on the communities in Cardiff.
Confident they had a high-level drugs gang in sight, police secured multiple arrest warrants. On the day of the raids, I led a briefing to over 50 officers. My heart was pounding from the moment I woke up. At around 8 a.
m. , I went to the home address of James Connors. We forced entry and found him inside. I was jumping for joy that we’d caught him.
“Right, James, at this time, you’re under arrest on suspicion of conspiracy to supply Class A drugs. ”
Another six arrests were taking place across the city. My radio was going off like the clappers. One sergeant came over the air and said, “We’ve discovered approximately half a kilo of cocaine.
” I couldn’t believe it. Inside, I was jumping for joy. They’d also found a substantial amount of benzocaine, packaging material, and digital scales—a drug dealer’s toolkit. At James Connors’ address, we found around £1,500 and an Audemars Piguet watch valued at £20,000.
At his brother Patrick Connors’ address, we recovered several ounces of cannabis hidden in the wardrobe, a machete, £200 in cash, and Patrick’s phone. Interrogating that phone showed Patrick was operating the heroin and crack cocaine market for the crime group. Detectives still wanted to identify where the photos of the cocaine blocks had been taken. In the background, you could clearly see a white kettle and a boiler.
Officers who had forced entry to that premises quickly identified it as the kitchen of Jonathan Gracet’s address. I used my body-worn video to evidence that the location matched the images on Jonathan’s phone, strengthening the link between him and the Connors family. Police had a huge amount of evidence but needed time to build charges. So, everyone was released under investigation while we pieced together the strongest possible case.
James Connors was subsequently charged in April 2020. But before he could go to trial, the UK came to a standstill. COVID had a detrimental impact on how quickly the matter went through court. The case kept getting pushed back.
Finally, we were set for trial. But on the initial days of what was supposed to be the trial, he offered a guilty plea. He was later bailed by the court with conditions and was due to return in November 2022 for sentencing. He didn’t turn up.
Connors had gone underground. He’d made up his mind to make it as difficult as possible for us to get him behind bars. We just didn’t know when, or if, we were ever going to find him. Four months after he went on the run, he was arrested in Ireland.
But once again, he skipped bail and disappeared. Catching someone who goes on the run depends on their capabilities, their knowledge of law enforcement, and their connections. James was well connected with the criminal fraternity. He was able to move around the UK untouched for a long time.
But it only takes one mistake. If you go on the run, you’ve got to be lucky every day. We only have to be lucky once. In September 2023, ten months after he first disappeared, Connors was arrested again following a street fight.
Officers established who he was, that he was wanted, and they got him into custody for all the offenses he was wanted for, including failing to appear for my investigation. When I found out, I was jumping for joy. I was straight on to the CPS to find out when he would be sentenced. Connors and his gang were also being investigated by Tarian, a regional organized crime task force.
On the 16th of February 2024, he was sentenced to 12 years in prison for his role in the Cardiff drugs gang. He received 6 years and 7 months for being concerned in the supply of cocaine and a further term for conspiring to supply cocaine. Patrick Connors was sentenced to 3 years and 9 months for supplying cocaine and cannabis. Jonathan Gracet, the motorcyclist whose careless mistake of dropping his phone had been the catalyst for the whole investigation, was sentenced to 4 years and 8 months for being involved in the supply of cocaine.
It’s a great feeling to know that something as little as a mobile phone being dropped could lead to something as significant as this. It was a careless mistake that unraveled an entire organized crime group, and it made South Wales a little safer.


