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#drugdealer — Public Fediverse posts

Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #drugdealer, aggregated by home.social.

  1. LLANELLI: Crack cocaine dealer jailed for three years after police raid on Pwll property

    A Llanelli man has been jailed for three years after Dyfed-Powys Police raided his home and seized thousands of pounds worth of crack cocaine — with his arrest coming only after a public appeal helped officers track him down months later.

    Jake Ware, 26, of Pwll in Llanelli, was sentenced to three years in prison at Swansea Crown Court on 1 May 2026, after pleading guilty to possession with intent to supply Class A drugs, being concerned in the supply of crack cocaine, and possessing criminal property.

    Officers carried out a search warrant at an address in Llanelli on 17 December 2025 following intelligence that Ware was supplying Class A and B drugs from the property.

    During the search, police seized approximately £4,000 worth of crack cocaine, more than £2,000 in cash, and a range of items typically associated with drug dealing, including weighing scales and digital devices.

    Although no one was present at the address during the search, officers observed two vehicles passing the property on multiple occasions. Efforts by the Roads Policing Unit to locate the vehicles were unsuccessful, and Ware was formally named as a wanted suspect.

    A public appeal to trace Ware was launched on 26 March 2026, and he was arrested later that same afternoon following information received from members of the public.

    Detectives also uncovered further evidence of Ware’s drug dealing activity through a Facebook account he operated under the fake name “JJ Mac.” Messages sent from the account included references to measuring and selling cocaine, with one message reading: “I literally got half oz weighed here chuck me 25 tomorrow.”

    Ware was charged and remanded into custody following his arrest, appearing at Swansea Crown Court on 27 April where he entered his guilty pleas.

    Detective Sergeant Richard Saunders said Ware had believed he could get away with supplying harmful drugs in the Llanelli area, but would now face the consequences.

    “I want to thank the public who responded to our appeal to locate Ware,” he said. “With your help, we were able to arrest Ware and take another drug dealer off our streets.”

    DS Saunders urged anyone who suspects drug dealing in their area to report it — either anonymously through Crimestoppers or directly to Dyfed-Powys Police.

    #cocaine #drugDealer #DyfedPowysPolice #Llanelli #SwanseaCrownCourt
  2. Former council HGV driver used chapel opposite his home as cocaine pick-up point — jailed for three and a half years

    A former council lorry driver has been jailed for three and a half years after running a cocaine dealing operation from his home in the Swansea Valley — using the chapel opposite his flat as a pick-up point for customers.

    Sheridan Geen, 53, now of Howell Road, Neath, was convicted at trial of being concerned in the supply of cocaine, possession of cocaine with intent to supply, and possession of criminal property. He also admitted possession of morphine at Swansea Crown Court on April 21.

    Dyfed-Powys Police executed a search warrant at Geen’s former home on Heol Twrch in Lower Cwmtwrch, near Ystradgynlais, on October 27, 2022. Officers found £1,560 in cash, weighing scales, a quantity of empty grip-seal bags inside a Gillette toiletries bag, and a small amount of morphine. Geen was also found attempting to conceal more than 40 wraps of cocaine — totalling 27.5 grams — on the bathroom window ledge.

    An examination of Geen’s mobile phone revealed messages relating to the supply of cocaine. Prosecutor Regan Walters told the court that the chapel opposite his home had been used as a regular meeting point where customers would come to collect their orders.

    Recorder Jonathan Rees KC said it was clear from the phone evidence that Geen had been running a commercial drug dealing business, using the chapel as a convenient location to meet customers.

    During his police interview, Geen answered “no comment” to most questions. He denied any involvement in drug supply, claimed he had never heard of class A drugs, and said the cash found at his address had been given to him by his father, who had inherited it. When challenged about messages on his phone containing the words “bash” and “pure” — both well-known slang terms for cocaine — he insisted he had no idea what they referred to.

    His barrister Christopher Evans told the court that Geen had worked as an HGV driver for his local council for 30 years before losing his job in 2020, following the breakdown of a relationship in 2017. “Things started to spiral out of control,” Mr Evans said, adding that Geen’s mental health had declined as a result.

    The court heard Geen had turned to cocaine to self-medicate — claiming the stimulant paradoxically helped him sleep — and that a gambling problem had compounded his financial difficulties, pushing him deeper into debt and eventually into dealing to fund his habit. “He was dealing primarily to fund his own drug use rather than for profit,” his barrister said.

    Mr Evans told the court that Geen had lost contact with his son during this period but had since reconnected with him, describing the relationship as a key motivating factor in his recovery. He said his client had now been drug-free for three years.

    Although Geen denied dealing throughout his trial, his barrister said he now accepts full responsibility for his actions. Being arrested had served as a “wake-up call,” the court heard.

    Geen has eight previous convictions for nine offences dating back to 1990, including drug possession, but none for dealing.

    He was sentenced to three years and six months in prison and ordered to pay a £228 surcharge. He will serve up to half the sentence in custody before being released on licence. A Proceeds of Crime Act hearing into his finances has been scheduled for July 28.

    Related stories from Swansea Bay News

    Ammanford pair used ‘Chinese’ as codeword for cocaine orders — jailed after being caught waiting for a delivery in Swansea
    Another recent cocaine supply sentence from Swansea Crown Court.

    Drug gang busted: Swansea man jailed as cocaine network smashed in multi-area operation
    More cocaine supply sentencing from Swansea Crown Court.

    #cocaine #drugDealer #DrugDealing #DyfedPowysPolice #LowerCwmtwrch #proceedsOfCrime #SwanseaCrownCourt #SwanseaValley
  3. A #drugdealer in #Wales was busted after sending a #selfie to his friend of his new "Turkey #teeth" - not realising his friend was also under investigation by the #heddlu ! He was nicked using #FacialRecognition , found guilty at Court and sentenced to 4 years #jail

    (I guess he is proud of those gnashers, he even smiled for his custody photo 😁 )

    bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cp9vke

  4. DRUG GANG BUSTED: Swansea man jailed as cocaine network smashed in £multi-area operation

    A Swansea man has been jailed for his role in a major organised crime gang that pumped drugs into communities across south Wales.

    Bradley Williams, 38, from Swansea, was sentenced to five years and nine months in prison after pleading guilty to multiple drug offences.

    He was part of a wider network supplying cocaine, cannabis and ketamine across the region — in what police described as a large-scale operation causing “misery and harm” to local communities.

    The gang was brought down following a major investigation led by Tarian, the regional organised crime unit for southern Wales.

    Major operation targets drug network

    The investigation — known as Operation Allegro — targeted a sophisticated drugs network operating across south Wales and into southwest England.

    Officers worked alongside Gwent Police and Gloucestershire Constabulary to dismantle the group, which was led by Gloucestershire-based Danny Tomlin.

    The gang was responsible for supplying wholesale quantities of Class A drugs, including cocaine, as well as cannabis to a wide customer base.

    Their operation stretched into communities across Swansea Bay and beyond.

    Swansea link to wider criminal network

    Williams played a key role in the network, admitting conspiracy to supply cannabis, offering to supply cocaine and ketamine, and possession of criminal property.

    His involvement highlights how organised crime networks often rely on local figures to distribute drugs into towns and communities across the region.

    Police say these operations fuel wider issues including addiction, violence and exploitation.

    Cannabis factories uncovered

    As part of the investigation, officers uncovered two sophisticated cannabis factories hidden inside residential properties.

    The sites — located in Blackwood and Trebanog — were being used to produce large quantities of cannabis for distribution.

    The discovery underlined the scale and organisation of the gang’s activities.

    Early morning raids bring gang down

    The network was dismantled following coordinated police raids across multiple locations in July 2025.

    Officers executed a series of warrants over two days, arresting those involved and gathering key evidence.

    Seven of the nine defendants later admitted their roles before or during trial.

    Gang leader handed longest sentence

    At Cardiff Crown Court, gang leader Danny Tomlin was jailed for 10 years and 10 months after admitting conspiracy to supply cocaine and cannabis, as well as cultivating cannabis.

    Custody photo of gang leader, Danny Tomlin
    (Image: Tarian ROCU)

    Other key members from Newport and Gloucestershire received sentences ranging from several months to six years.

    In total, the nine members of the group were handed combined sentences of more than 43 years behind bars.

    Police: ‘Misery and harm’ caused to communities

    Detective Inspector Vinnie Easton said the group had been driven by profit at the expense of local people.

    He said: “This was a large-scale, complex investigation into an organised crime group who sought to profit from the misery and harm they brought to our communities.”

    He added that the sentences should reassure the public that action is being taken against drug supply networks.

    Impact felt across Swansea Bay

    While the gang operated across multiple areas, cases like this highlight the impact organised crime has on communities in Swansea and across the wider region.

    Police say tackling drug supply remains a priority, with networks like this often linked to wider criminal activity.

    Residents are being urged to report concerns about suspected drug dealing.

    Public urged to come forward

    Anyone with information about drug supply can contact police via 101 or report anonymously through Crimestoppers.

    Officers say intelligence from the public plays a key role in building cases against organised crime groups.

    Related stories from Swansea Bay News

    Portmead plasterer jailed for drug dealing
    Repeat offending highlights ongoing drug supply issues in Swansea communities.

    Two men behind “Marcus Line” drugs supply jailed
    Another organised operation targeting local users brought down by police.

    Two Swansea dealers jailed after topping up drugs hotline
    Police uncovered a mobile phone network used to supply cocaine across the city.

    Cocaine traffickers jailed after Swansea drug handover intercepted
    Specialist officers disrupted another supply chain operating in the region.

    #Cannabis #cocaine #conviction #drugDealer #drugGang #drugs #gang #ketamine #Swansea #Tarian
  5. Kick the Bot, Fear the Dog: Street Psychology and the Coming Age of Mechanical Animals

    The first time you see a sidewalk delivery bot, you smile. It is impossible not to. The thing is knee-high, usually white or pastel, rolling along on six stubby wheels like a cooler that gained sentience and decided to take itself for a walk. It carries burritos, or prescription medication, or someone’s iced latte, and it navigates curbs and crosswalks with the earnest determination of a toddler heading for a puddle. You watch it pause at an intersection, calculate its moment, and trundle forward with a confidence that borders on optimism. Your first instinct is to root for it.

    Your second instinct, if you stand on any busy sidewalk long enough, is to watch someone else try to destroy it.

    The kicked delivery bot has become a minor genre of urban video. A man in business casual plants his wingtip into the side panel of a Starship Technologies unit and sends it spinning into the gutter. A teenager shoves one off the curb. A woman screams obscenities at a bot that committed the sin of occupying the same stretch of concrete she wanted to walk on. The reactions are disproportionate, performative, and strangely emotional for encounters with a machine that weighs forty pounds and is carrying pad thai. These are not people responding to a real threat. These are people responding to a real anxiety, and the distinction matters more than it appears to, because the thing they are anxious about has not arrived yet.

    What rolls down the sidewalk today is a cooler with a flag. What rolls down the sidewalk in five years is something with legs, teeth, cameras, and a mandate from someone you did not elect.

    The Psychology of Kicking Down

    Reactance theory, first articulated by Jack Brehm in 1966, describes the motivational state that arises when a person perceives a threat to their behavioral freedoms. The mechanism is direct: when people feel their autonomy is being constrained or their environment altered without their consent, they experience a psychological tension that demands resolution, and that resolution almost always takes the form of reasserting dominance over the perceived intrusion. The delivery bot is a perfect trigger for reactance. Nobody asked the pedestrian whether autonomous machines should share the sidewalk. Nobody held a public hearing. The bot simply appeared one morning, and now it is there, every day, navigating the same path the pedestrian considers sovereign territory. The kick is not about the bot. The kick is about the feeling that someone, somewhere, made a decision about your daily environment and did not consult you, and the only available target for that resentment is a rolling plastic box that cannot kick back.

    This is the critical detail. The bot cannot retaliate. It has no voice, no legal standing in the moment of confrontation, and no capacity to shame its attacker. It occupies a psychological category that has no precedent in public life: an autonomous agent with no social power. Humans have always directed aggression toward entities that cannot respond. Stanley Milgram’s obedience experiments demonstrated how easily cruelty flows downward through a hierarchy. Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford work, for all its methodological controversy, illustrated the speed at which people adopt aggressive postures toward those they perceive as beneath them in a power structure. The delivery bot sits at the absolute bottom of every conceivable hierarchy. It is not alive. It is not a person. It is not even a convincing imitation of a person. It is a thing, and the social cost of striking a thing is, at this moment, zero.

    But there is a second psychological layer that makes the bot-kicking phenomenon more revealing than simple displaced aggression. The delivery bot introduces something into public space that has not existed before in this form: ambient autonomy. A parked car is a machine in public space, but it does not move of its own volition while you walk past it. A traffic light governs your behavior, but it is fixed infrastructure, part of the architecture, as invisible as the curb. The delivery bot moves. It makes decisions. It reacts to your presence. It occupies a perceptual category somewhere between tool and creature, and that liminal status provokes a discomfort that most people cannot articulate but many people feel. The uncanny valley, as Masahiro Mori described it in 1970, typically applies to humanoid forms that are almost but not quite convincingly human. The delivery bot is not humanoid at all, yet it triggers an adjacent discomfort: something that is not alive is behaving as though it has intention, and it is doing so in your space, on your sidewalk, during your commute. The kick is a way of resolving that discomfort. It is a way of saying, to no one in particular, “I am still the one who decides what happens here.”

    They are wrong, of course. They decided nothing. And they will decide even less in the years to come.

    The Normalization Engine

    Every new technology that enters public space follows a predictable emotional arc. Novelty produces delight. Delight produces familiarity. Familiarity produces invisibility. The automobile was a spectacle in 1905 and a background hum by 1955. The security camera was an outrage in the 1970s and wallpaper by the 2000s. The smartphone was a marvel in 2007 and an extension of the hand by 2012. The delivery bot is currently somewhere between delight and familiarity, which is precisely why people still react to it at all. In three years, most pedestrians will not notice it. In five years, they will step around it without conscious thought, the way they step around fire hydrants and newspaper boxes. The bot will become infrastructure.

    And that is the function, not the side effect, of the delivery bot in public space. Not conspiratorially, not by secret design, but by the simple mechanics of habituation. Repeated exposure to a stimulus reduces the emotional response to that stimulus. Psychologists have confirmed this in every setting they have tested it, from animal behavior labs to advertising research to clinical desensitization therapy. The cute delivery bot habituates you to the presence of autonomous machines on your street. It teaches your nervous system that a moving, deciding, reacting machine in your pedestrian space is normal, expected, unremarkable. By the time the machines change shape, you will have already accepted the premise.

    And the machines will change shape.

    From Wheels to Legs

    Boston Dynamics has been refining quadruped robots for over a decade. Their Spot model, a yellow mechanical dog weighing roughly seventy pounds, can climb stairs, open doors, navigate rough terrain, carry payloads, and operate camera and sensor arrays. It has been deployed by police departments, military units, construction companies, and energy firms. The New York Police Department tested Spot in 2021, deploying it to a hostage situation in the Bronx, and the public reaction was immediate and visceral. The robot was nicknamed “Digidog,” mocked, protested, and ultimately pulled from service after political pressure mounted. But the withdrawal was temporary and strategic, not principled. Police departments across the country continued to acquire robotic platforms. The technology did not retreat. It paused, waited for the news cycle to turn, and resumed.

    The trajectory is not speculative. It is budgetary. The United States Department of Defense allocated significant funding for autonomous systems research in its most recent budget cycles, and much of that funding is directed at quadruped platforms capable of patrol, surveillance, and logistics in urban environments. Ghost Robotics, a Philadelphia-based competitor to Boston Dynamics, has already mounted weapon systems on its quadruped platform, the Vision 60, and demonstrated the configuration at military trade shows. The combination of legs, cameras, and weapons is not a thought experiment. It is a product line.

    Now extend the timeline. If military and police agencies are deploying quadruped robots with sensor arrays and weapon mounts, the civilian market will follow, because it always does. Night-vision technology moved from the battlefield to the hunting catalog to the home security aisle within two decades. Drones followed the same path, from Predator to DJI Phantom to your neighbor filming his roof. GPS, the internet itself, and even the microwave oven all migrated from military application to consumer product. Mechanical dogs will be no different. Within a decade, perhaps less, quadruped robots will be commercially available to anyone with sufficient capital.

    Drug dealers will have them. They will use them as sentries, as couriers, as intimidation platforms. A mechanical dog sitting outside a stash house does not sleep, does not get bored, does not cooperate with police, and does not require the loyalty management that a human lookout demands. It simply watches, records, and, if equipped to do so, acts.

    People who currently own dogs bred for aggression and display, who walk their pit bulls without leashes as a projection of personal menace, will upgrade. The mechanical dog does not need to be fed, does not generate liability in the same legal framework as a biological animal, and can be programmed to perform intimidation behaviors on command without the unpredictability of an actual animal. It is the logical extension of the impulse that drives a person to acquire a dog not for companionship but for theater.

    Police departments will integrate quadruped robots into routine patrol, traffic enforcement, and crowd control. The arguments for doing so are bureaucratically irresistible: the robot does not require a pension, cannot be accused of racial bias in the same legal framework as a human officer, does not experience fear or fatigue, and can be deployed to dangerous situations without risking an officer’s life. Every one of these arguments has already been made in budget meetings. Every one of them will prevail, because the institution of policing optimizes for risk reduction and cost efficiency, and the robot satisfies both criteria.

    The military applications are already in motion and require no projection at all.

    The Street in 2032

    Imagine a sidewalk six years from now. You walk to work. A delivery bot rolls past carrying someone’s groceries, and you do not notice it, because you stopped noticing delivery bots years ago. Half a block ahead, a quadruped robot in police livery stands at an intersection, its camera array tracking pedestrian flow, its posture low and stable, its presence reassuring if you trust the police and menacing if you do not. Across the street, a private security dog patrols the entrance to a luxury residential building, scanning faces, logging foot traffic, and emitting a low audible tone when someone lingers too long. On the next block, something that looks almost identical to the police model but carries no visible insignia sits on a stoop outside a building you know better than to look at too closely.

    You do not kick any of them. You do not curse at them. You do not react at all, because by 2032 you will have spent years learning not to react to autonomous machines in your space. The delivery bot taught you that. It preconditioned you that machines belong on the sidewalk. It softened you that machines can make decisions in your presence. It warmed you that machines occupy public space as a matter of course, and your role is to accommodate them. The delivery bot was the primer. The dog is the payload.

    This is not a conspiracy. No one sat in a boardroom and designed the delivery bot as a psychological conditioning tool for the eventual acceptance of armed robotic quadrupeds. The delivery bot exists because venture capital funded last-mile logistics solutions, and the robotic dog exists because defense contracts funded autonomous patrol platforms, and the two developments are converging on the same sidewalk by separate but parallel logics. The effect, however, is identical to what a conspiracy would produce: a population gradually habituated to the presence of autonomous machines in public space, such that each successive escalation in capability, autonomy, and lethality meets diminishing resistance.

    The Bite That Isn’t a Bite

    The people who kick delivery bots are responding to something real, even if their response is misdirected and futile. They sense, at some preverbal level, that something is being taken from them. The sidewalk was theirs. It was human space, governed by human norms, navigated by human bodies. The introduction of an autonomous machine into that space changes the social contract of the street, and it does so without negotiation. The kicker is not wrong to feel displaced. The kicker is wrong to think that kicking will change anything.

    When the machines have legs and cameras and the backing of institutions with the legal authority to use force, no one will kick. The asymmetry of power that currently makes bot-kicking cost-free will invert completely. The police dog will record your face. The private security dog will flag your presence to a property management algorithm. The military dog, in the contexts where it appears, will carry capabilities that make the question of kicking purely theoretical. The window in which a human being can express physical dominance over an autonomous machine in public space is closing, and it is closing fast.

    What replaces that window is a new psychology of public life, one in which the street is shared with entities that watch you without caring about you and respond to you without understanding you. The philosopher of technology Langdon Winner wrote in 1980 that artifacts have politics, that the design of a technical system encodes and enforces particular arrangements of power. The delivery bot’s politics are mild: it encodes the priorities of a logistics company and the laziness of a customer who does not want to walk to the restaurant. The robotic dog’s politics are not mild at all. It encodes the priorities of whoever purchased it, programmed it, and deployed it, and in a society where purchasing power correlates directly with institutional power, the dog will serve the interests of the already powerful far more often than it will serve yours.

    The Question Nobody Is Asking

    The public conversation about autonomous machines in urban space remains fixated on the delivery bot phase of the problem. Cities debate sidewalk access, right-of-way rules, and whether a delivery robot should be classified as a pedestrian or a vehicle. These are legitimate regulatory questions, but they are also the equivalent of debating the font on the eviction notice. The substantive question is not how delivery bots should navigate the sidewalk. The substantive question is what kind of public space we are willing to live in, what degree of autonomous mechanical presence we will accept as normal, and what mechanisms of accountability will exist when the machines on the street carry capabilities that extend well beyond delivering your lunch.

    That question is not being asked, because it is not yet urgent, and democratic societies have a durable habit of ignoring structural questions until the structure is already built. By the time the robotic dog is a fixture of the American sidewalk, the normative framework that might have governed its deployment will not exist, because the moment for building that framework is now, and no one with the authority to build it considers the matter pressing.

    So the delivery bot rolls on. It carries your tacos. It navigates the curb. Someone kicks it, and someone else films the kicking, and someone else watches the film and laughs, and the bot rights itself and continues on its route, because it does not care about any of this. It is not designed to care. It is designed to arrive.

    What arrives after it is designed to do something else entirely. And by the time it gets here, you will have already learned not to flinch.

    #ai #autonomousMachines #bostonDynamics #bot #digidog #dog #dogBot #drugDealer #ghostRobotics #military #normalization #police #psychology #quadrupedRobot #reactanceTheory #tech #uncannyValley #violence
  6. Waunarlwydd dealer who bragged he sold ‘the best Valium in Swansea’ jailed for three years

    Sean Brendan Doyle, 36, was arrested after Gorseinon neighbourhood officers executed a warrant at his home and seized drugs, cash and multiple mobile phones linked to street dealing. When police tracked down his Vauxhall Astra in Sketty Park, they opened the boot to find bags and boxes stuffed with tablets.

    Inside were 1,535 tablets across six different Class C drugs — most of them diazepam — along with 2.1g of cocaine and four phones packed with messages about deals, discounts and bulk orders.

    Dealer bragged about his ‘best in Swansea’ supply

    Swansea Crown Court heard Doyle had been supplying diazepam for at least a year, selling £15 and £20 street deals and offering cut‑price rates for bigger orders. In one message he bragged he’d been selling “the best diazepam in Swansea for 15 years”. In another, sent just days before his arrest, he talked about shifting 10 boxes a week and wanting to move into bulk sales.

    Doyle refused to answer questions in interview and wouldn’t give police the PINs to his phones. But officers were still able to download messages showing a steady trade in Class C drugs — and occasional Class A supply.

    Long history of drug offending

    The court heard Doyle has seven previous convictions for 13 offences, including supplying Class C drugs in 2009, possession with intent to supply in 2017, and further drug offences in 2021.

    His barrister said Doyle had used Class C drugs from a young age following “tragic events” in his life, and claimed his drug use spiralled after the suicide of a friend in 2023. The court was told he is now drug‑free and credits his new partner for helping him turn his life around.

    Judge Huw Rees said he would not “lecture” Doyle but told him he already knew that turning to drugs “only makes things worse”.

    Doyle admitted possession with intent to supply crack cocaine and two counts of possession with intent to supply Class C drugs. He was jailed for three years, serving up to half in custody before release on licence.

    Police: ‘He was peddling misery’

    Sergeant Molly Llewellyn, South Wales Police, said Doyle had been “peddling drugs and misery onto the streets of Waunarlwydd and wider Swansea”.

    “But, like so many drug dealers before him, he was found out by police,” she said. “Our neighbourhood teams are committed to listening to residents, acting on their concerns, and disrupting those involved in this unlawful activity.”

    Police urged anyone worried about drug dealing in their area to report it.

    Related stories from Swansea Bay News

    Swansea man jailed after police find massive cannabis haul in garden shed
    Officers uncovered a large cannabis grow hidden in an outbuilding during a routine search.

    Dealer jailed for eight years after routine stop uncovers £150k drug haul
    A simple traffic stop led police to a huge stash of cocaine, cash and drug‑dealing kit.

    Police warn landlords after cannabis factory found in Swansea rental home
    Officers urge vigilance after a rented property was turned into a sophisticated grow site.

    Swansea drug line boss jailed after police find SIM cards hidden in waistband
    A county lines organiser was caught with multiple SIM cards used to run a drug network.

    #cocaine #diazepam #drugDealer #drugs #Gorseinon #SkettyPark #SouthWalesPolice #valium #Waunarlwydd
  7. Swansea woman and ex‑husband jailed after cocaine bust

    Dramatic footage released by South Wales Police shows the moment Lisa Regan, 53, from Portmead, Swansea, was arrested as she stepped off a plane — bringing down a drugs empire she ran with her ex‑husband.

    Regan and Phillip Jones, 44, from Brynhyfryd, Swansea, oversaw a cocaine supply chain that flooded Swansea and Ammanford. Investigators found images on their phones showing Jones cutting up a kilo of cocaine, while the pair laundered their profits through a café in Blaenymaes.

    At Swansea Magistrates Court in October, Jones admitted being concerned in the supply of cocaine, two counts of possession with intent to supply, concealing criminal property and driving while disqualified. He was sentenced to six years and eight months in prison. Regan admitted similar offences and was handed seven years and four months.

    Lisa Regan, 53, from Portmead, Swansea, jailed for seven years and four months for cocaine supply and money laundering. (Image: South Wales Police)Phillip Jones, 44, from Brynhyfryd, Swansea, sentenced to six years and eight months for drug supply and criminal property offences. (Image: South Wales Police)

    Police also uncovered a Carmarthenshire link. Tracy Lewis, 54, from Llandybie, was buying large amounts of cocaine from Regan and running his own operation in Ammanford.

    He admitted multiple offences including supply of cocaine, crack cocaine and cannabis, possession with intent to supply, and possession of criminal property. He was jailed for six years.

    Tracy Lewis, 54, from Llandybie, Carmarthenshire, jailed for six years after running a cocaine and cannabis supply chain in Ammanford. (Image: South Wales Police)

    Sergeant Luke Tucker said:

    “Between them, Lisa Regan, Phillip Jones and Tracy Lewis were responsible for flooding our local communities with significant quantities of Class A and B drugs.

    “They thought they were above the law – but they will have been devastated to discover their operations weren’t as impenetrable as they thought. Their removal from society has made our streets far safer and better off.”

    #Ammanford #BlaenYMaes #Brynhyfryd #cocaine #drugDealer #DrugDealing #drugs #Llandybie #Portmead #SouthWalesPolice #Swansea

  8. A #drugdealer in #Cambridgeshire (who had travelled all the way from #Leeds #Yorkshire) denied knowledge of this own #trousers on arrest, claiming he had borrowed them (they were full of wraps of #crack #cocaine , which is somewhat illegal!)

    This did not fly with the #Police and #Courts - he got 3 years at His Majesty's pleasure..

    itv.com/news/anglia/2025-11-24