Spy Cops | The Truth | 2
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Hello, Matt. Hi, Alice. Interesting outfit today. How do you mean? Well, the trilby hat, the Mac, those glasses with the nose and the moustache. You don't usually wear that. No, but we're doing spy cops. I'm just trying to get in the zone. Yeah, but it's a podcast. No one can see you. I thought we did video. This cost 500 quid. Did you keep the receipt? No, I burnt it straight away. I didn't want to leave a paper trail. January 2010, the South Downs.

Mark Kennedy guns the engine as his motorbike roars along the country lane. Icy hedgerows race past him on either side. He leans the bike into the fast-approaching corner. He knows he's at the bike's limit, but he needs to feel alive. It's been two months since he was pulled from his posting in Nottingham. He's spent the last month staring vacantly out of a sealed window of an airless office. He's not sure how much longer he can take it. As he rounds another corner, chalk cliffs come into view.

He brings the bike to a stop and takes in his surroundings. For a moment, he breathes the cool, clear air. He removes his helmet and fixes a few loose strands in his ponytail. He sounds like a classic midlife crisis. Motorbike, ponytail. If he's got his ear pierced, the man's having a breakdown. He's given back all of his identity documents, but letting go of Mark Stone hasn't been so easy. Amy thinks he's had a nervous breakdown, the preferred reason for leaving undercover work.

♪♪

He looks at the number. It belongs to Rod Leeming, a former member of his undercover unit. Everyone's talking about your deployment. Seven years. That's got to be a record. Yeah, it felt a lot longer. How do things look on the outside? Rod now runs Global Open, a private investigations agency that plants spies in political groups. Sounds like a nice guy.

Mark has. He's attended meetings where fake activists outnumber real ones. Mark is silent.

Working for Rod would mean turning his back on 20 years in the force. It would mean going it alone, without the state's support. He breathes in the coastal air. He thinks of Amy's warm body next to his. You won't regret it, mate. He makes a decision. OK, Rod, I'm in. But I've got one condition. It's time to bring Mark Stone back from the dead.

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As an Audible member, you choose one title a month to keep from their entire catalogue. New members can try Audible free for 30 days. Visit audible.com slash WonderyPod or text WonderyPod to 500-500. That's audible.com slash WonderyPod or text WonderyPod to 500-500. From Wondery, I'm Alice Levine. And I'm Matt Ford. And this is British Scandal.

So, Matt. Yes, Shark? Well remembered. OK, so can you also remember what happened last time? So we met Mark Kennedy, who's a police officer and wants to go undercover to catch bad guys. Yeah. He does go undercover.

But it doesn't really feel like he's after bad guys because he's infiltrated a group of environmental activists in Nottingham who don't really feel like a major threat to the state. Yeah, and on top of that, he did more than went undercover. He actually became part of these people's lives. In fact, he was in a loving relationship with one of them. It's so messed up because it seemed like he was having a loving relationship. But I just don't know how we can trust anything this guy is saying. Well, Matt, once again, I say to you, just you wait. It is the British scandal refrain.

This is episode two, The Truth. April the 2nd, 2010, Nottingham. Amy takes a bottle of wine from the fridge. She's at a dinner party on Mark's houseboat. She tops up everyone's glass, carries empty plates to the sink. The boat is called the Tamarisk. It's an old-style barge painted green. The first week after Mark returned, they stayed cocooned inside. Amy was thrilled he was back.

She hears her friends laughing in the next room. She goes in and sees Mark on his own, stoking the fire and staring into the flames. She brings him the bottle. Top up? Since his breakdown, the change in Mark's behaviour has been stark. Before he disappeared, his panic attacks had turned into paranoia. He thought he was being followed. Ironic. Amy felt powerless to help. Eventually, Mark said he needed to get away.

He went to stay with his brother in America for a couple of months. She emailed him a few times, but his replies were always cryptic and rambling. The relief when he came back was overwhelming. She's tried to ignore the changes in his character. Small things like becoming a vegetarian and a sudden commitment to animal rights. Amy knows she has to tread carefully, but she wants the old Mark Stone back. She returns to the table. Who's for spin the bottle? What are they, 16? And in the woods?

Her friends laugh. One of them suggests truth or dare. There you go. It'll be Dream Phone next. My God. Strip poker. What was the one you said? Dream Phone. What's that? What's Dream Phone? It was this plastic phone where you could, like, ring your crush, but they were all pre-recorded voice notes. So it'd be like... And then it would...

We're all looking at me like I'm mad. And then it'd be like, hey, it's Dylan. I'm your secret crush. I mean, it was, again, I'm on. Well, this was like a game you could buy or a game that you made up. Oh, my God. A game you could buy. I've never heard of it. No one's ever heard of it. Alice, you're having a breakdown. Are you undercover? I'm undercover. Oh, no. It's blown. They sit in a circle feeling giggly and conspiratorial. The logs in the stove hiss and pop. Okay, I'll go first. Dare. Dare.

Amy is challenged to eat a leftover chilli. She does it. Is that it? She turns red and glugs water. Her friends shriek with laughter. Just a tip, water won't help. You need milk. You need that milk, don't you? One by one, they go round the table. Even Mark is having fun. On his turn, he chooses dare. Amy's friend Kim is disappointed. Everyone's doing dares. Tell us the truth, Mark.

Her other friends join in the pressure. Eventually, he concedes. Everyone cheers. Amy senses an opportunity. Mark seems more relaxed than he's been in a while. With mock solemnity, she looks him in the eyes, pauses for dramatic effect. When was the last time you lied? Everyone laughs, even Mark. But beneath his big grin, Amy sees something else, genuine emotion. He opens his mouth, but the words catch in his throat. He turns bright red.

See, this wasn't in the manual, was it? The Bible. How to deal with truth or dare. It's all fine if you get captured by the IRA or by terrorists. This is a harder situation for him. Oh, God, no training. Honestly, he would crumble under Dream Phone. Her friends descended to fits of laughter. He's hiding something. But Mark looks genuinely upset. He gets to his feet and heads to the kitchen. Baby, what's going on with you? I'm just not in the mood. I'm feeling a little on edge, OK? OK.

She wraps him in a tight hug. He doesn't reciprocate. I just want you to open up to me. Mark looks at the floor. Amy can hear her friends shouting and laughing. She wishes they would leave so she could be alone with Mark. She kisses him. After everything they've been through, they need to spend some time alone. Maybe a trip would help. No more hiding. Their relationship depends on it. July the 10th, 2010. The Dolomite Mountains, Italy.

Amy cups a hand over her eyes and squints. Down the valley, she can see trees shimmering in the heat. She's hiking the spectacular Celeronda. Surrounding her, a tall grey peaks glinting in the sun. Above her, a cloudless blue sky. Amy looks up at the trail. She can see Mark's campervan in the distance. She massages more sun cream into her arms, takes a lungful of pine-scented air and continues to walk. The holiday was exactly what they needed. She's glad she suggested it.

They've been on the road for two weeks. Amy can't remember feeling this happy. It's like having the old Mark back. This morning, he brought her coffee in bed. He was wearing wraparound shades and cycling lycra. She waved him off on his bike. Take care on those descents, please. No heroics today. Mark laughed. It's the climbs that'll kill you. That was five hours ago. He's probably back by now. She scans the horizon, but the dazzle from the cliffs is blinding.

Amy reaches the van, but there's no sign of Mark. All around her, the air is hot and still. She climbs into the front and opens the glove box, fishes around for her sunglasses. Her fingers find something wedged at the back. It's Mark's passport, more worn than she remembers. She used to tease him about how new it looked. She reflexively flicks to the back page. There's a new photo. She doesn't remember Mark getting a new passport. She scans the page. She's not sure what it is.

Something's wrong, but it takes a second to process. And then she realizes the name written there on the top of the page, it says Mark Kennedy, not Mark Stone. Oh, man. Amy's stomach tightens. She looks again. Everything else is the same. The date and the place of birth. Her hands feel sweaty.

I'd feel sick.

Amy catches her breath when she sees it's an iPhone. She knows Mark's phone. She often uses it. But this isn't it. A sense of panic creeps over her. Your mind would be rushing at this point. I'm trying to think what your first assumption would be. Drug dealer. Oh. Having not, trying to forget the stuff we know. A passport with a different name. Second phone. With trembling fingers, she turns on the phone.

Whoa.

Her mind races. She hears the familiar crunch of bike tires on gravel. Mark's face, blackened by dust, looms into the rearview mirror. She's going to get an answer, one way or another, and she's terrified about what it could be. A few hours later, in a mountaintop bar, Mark picks at a loose thread on his T-shirt. Sitting opposite, waiting for him to explain, Amy looks furious. He stares at her holding his passport.

incessantly turning it over in her hands. It took a few minutes to get over the shock of Amy's revelation, but now he knows what he's going to say, and he knows he has just one chance to get it right. He takes a deep breath. I know what it must look like, but it's not what you think. What I think is you've been lying to me. Why do you have two names? And don't you think I should know if you have kids? Are you married? Is that it?

Amy's voice trails off. He's taken aback by her distress. It's like a punch in his gut. But he focuses on bringing to mind the backstory he's created. I've not been honest with you. I wanted to, but I was scared. Scared of what? Those children aren't mine. Then why do they call you dad? And why do you have two passports? Mark holds Amy's eye contact. He opens his arms, tries to infuse his words with emotion and conviction, takes another deep breath.

Years ago, before we met, I was a drug runner. Me and a friend smuggled heroin from Pakistan to Europe. During one deal, we upset a local cartel boss and my friend was killed. Shot right in front of me. Terrible story, but from my point of view, I did guess drug dealer. His words hang in the air. The silence punctuated only by the throaty core of a crow overhead. The children are my friends. After he died, I felt so guilty about what happened. I told his wife I'd look after them.

They see me as a father figure. That's why they call me Dad. Amy is silent for a moment. And the passport? Who's Mark Kennedy? After years living with Amy, it's strange hearing her use his real name. Kennedy's my dad's name. I told you we don't get on. I changed my name to distance myself. I use that passport for the drug stuff and Mark Stone, me, for everything else. He studies her face, struggles to read her. He thinks back to his undercover training.

I feel so ashamed of myself. You deserve to know the truth. How do you say that whilst telling a total lie? Unbelievable. He buries his face in his hands. He's never been good at conjuring emotion. But to his surprise, the tears come hot and ready. He feels swept up by a powerful sensation. Suddenly, Amy is by his side. Her familiar embrace only deepens his sobs. She's muttering soothing words. She seems convinced.

But if the shame wasn't real before, it's starting to feel real now. He vows Amy can never know his secret. She must never learn the truth about Mark Kennedy. August 28th, 2010, Northamptonshire. Amy puts her hands in the air and screams. She's in a dance tent at Shambhala Festival. A dubstep DJ just dropped the beat, sending the crowd into a frenzy. She and her friends have been drinking all afternoon.

Now with the music throbbing, she feels euphoric. It's been more than a month since Italy. The Dolomites feel distant, like a dream. Mark's tearful revelation marked a change in their relationship. These days, he's more attentive. He tells her how he's feeling. And Amy has even been able to open up about things she's never told anyone before. With Mark's secrets out in the open, she feels like they can talk about anything. She's never felt closer to him.

Let's go get a beer. Amy's friend Kim is exhausted from dancing. I know the feeling. I reckon I can do about three minutes max these days. Full song and then out. It's basically like exercise. The beer tent is packed. They fight their way to the bar. Amy feels a tap on her shoulder. An old friend from her Reclaim the Streets days stumbles towards her, a drink in each hand. I didn't know you were here. There's more of us outside. Come and join. Outside, a group is sitting on the grass.

Amy recognises many of them, some she's not seen in years. She stretches out as the sun beats down and chats to her old friend, Anna. Do you remember that party we had when we blockaded the motorway? The faces of the drivers stuck in the cars. Anna laughs. Sometimes I wish I was back there, not caring the world. I don't miss dodging cops, though. Anna's quiet for a moment.

Speaking of, do you remember Rosa, my friend from East Dulwich? She was married to Jim Sutton. Everyone called him Jim the Van. Amy racks her brain. It's been almost a decade and she can't put a face to a name. They were living together and Jim had some kind of nervous breakdown. He disappeared for a year. Amy can sympathise. She recalls the loneliness and concern she felt when Mark vanished. Well, she got in touch with me recently. I couldn't believe what she told me. Anna's face is clouded.

It was all a lie. Jim Fait, the breakdown. It turns out he was a police spy all along. Oh, my God. Amy feels the ground tilt. Bass vibrations from music rattle through her body.

Anna is still talking, but her voice sounds like it's coming from somewhere far off. She found out his real name was Boiling. I mean, they were married, for God's sake. Amy looks at her iPhone. An image swims into her mind's eye. The emails from Mark's secret family. She sees her own reflection in the screen. Is she being taken for a fool as well?

Imagine how you'd feel in that position. You've been through this situation with him. You found a passport and a phone. He's told you a story that in itself is quite shocking, but you believed it. And now you're hearing that someone else has been through the exact same thing. And you've opened up. You've shared stuff that is incredibly intimate and personal that you've not told anybody else before.

And I think as well, those red flags all along the way where you've gone, you know, that's a bit weird. You know, like he's flashy. He wears flashy sportswear and everybody thinks that he doesn't really dress like an activist. Oh, ignore that. Oh, ignore this other thing. Ignore this other thing. And now it's all come crashing down. A wave of nausea rises up inside her. She gets to her feet, but her legs wobble. She attempts to focus her mind.

She needs to breathe, but deep down, she knows she needs more than just fresh air. She needs to know if Mark is lying to her. She needs to know if Mark is a spy.

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I love that pub. They do such a good breakfast. You'd know it. It's such a good pub. It's in Hockley in Nottingham. I could have been one of those people. You could have been some of the most...

He stares at the entrance to a block of flats across the road. Mark Kennedy disappeared inside an hour ago and is yet to emerge. David's frustration at having to keep tabs on him is at its limit. The Met need to know Mark's not been turned or planning to go public about his old unit. Some of Mark's old cases are coming to trial and David wants assurances he'll cooperate. Suddenly there's movement. Mark exits the building. He's moving quickly.

You never were cut out for field work. I almost didn't spot you without your car. Hello, Mark. Fancy bumping into you? In Nottingham, of all places? What surname are we going with these days? Mark's eyes flash with anger.

What about Amy? She seems quite loose. Mark moves close, grabs a fistful of David's shirt. If anyone goes nearer, I'll make you wish they hadn't. Yeah, you didn't exactly treat her great yourself, mate. David pulls himself free, smooths his shirt. As he suspected, Amy doesn't know Mark is an officer and he's terrified of her finding out.

Now David's tone is menacing. There's no need to drag her into this mess, as long as you remember who your friends are. He turns to leave. This isn't going to end well, Mark. You can be sure of that. I don't like David. David's got a kind of, a cool chill about him, hasn't he? He's got a kind of, he's got a bad boy energy. Yeah. And he's kind of got that sort of vibe where you think, I don't trust you. No. You know? Bit of a scumbag. A scumbag. A scumbag.

September 28th, 2010. Nottingham, 2pm. Amy stares vacantly as the kettle boils. She's in the kitchen at her friend Logan's house. The last few weeks she's been in turmoil. Luckily Mark is visiting his brother in the States. Oh, come on. She hasn't had to pretend everything's normal. She carries two steaming mugs into the living room, hands one to Logan, who's sitting in front of a computer. She's asked Logan for help and sworn him to secrecy.

She's told him about the passport and Mark's admission. Logan agreed that if everything checks out, they'll never tell anyone about it. But he was also shocked at Amy's suspicion. Logan has known Mark as long as Amy and considers him a close friend. He's agreed to help her run checks using online ancestry records.

Logan starts punching in all the information Amy has about Mark Stone. It's no different to researching my family tree. If he's registered to vote, he's in the database. Amy was shocked when she realised how little she actually knows about Mark. She's never met any of his family or old friends.

She's begun searching social media sites for his profile, but so far has found nothing. Social media back then as well. Twitter was just, what have you had for dinner? Not let's all hate each other for having different political opinions. Friends reunited, so innocent. Truthfully, she isn't ready to contemplate the idea that Mark could be a cop. But she's been watching him lately, weighing every word, judging every action. She's even asked a few leading questions about his past, but he has an answer ready for everything.

Amy can't shake the feeling that he's not being honest. But her suspicion makes her feel guilty, like she's betraying him. She needs to know she's imagining it, just being silly. That's one of the most sinister things about this, is that the people who are being manipulated don't just have to go through the pain of all this.

They are then the people who end up feeling guilty. It's so perverse. Well, that's kind of the kind of gaslighting part of this is that you start not trusting your own instincts about things because their excuses are so watertight because they're rehearsed. They're in the big binder. You know, these are tried and tested systems. After half an hour, Logan leans back in his seat.

He scratches his head. This is weird. There's no evidence of a Mark Stone born in 1969. Amy's skin prickles. She tries to stay focused. Hang on, are you telling me he's not really a 69er? I had a cartoon made. The greatest deceit of all. The worst party in the world. Okay, let's try Mark Kennedy. Amy paces as Logan scrolls through the lists of names. He highlights one.

OK, there's a Mark John Kennedy here. Amy looks at the entry. Born July 7th, 1969, in Camberwell. They match Mark's details. Logan continues. This says he's married to someone called Edel Cashman. Amy feels a stab in the pit of her stomach. According to this, they have two children. Oh, God.

Her heartbeat quickens. A girl and a boy. Amy's voice wavers as she asks the question. What's the son's name? She hears the click of the mouse, watches the page change. Then Logan speaks. He's called Jack. So that email from Jack earlier that said, hi, dad, is from his actual son. This is sickening. Amy falls into her seat, stunned. The names of Mark's wife and children in front of her.

A sense of despair begins to take hold, but Amy fights to push it back. If Mark has lied about being married, she needs to find out what else he's been lying about. The same day, Cantuck Castle, County Cork, Ireland. Mark follows the tour guide's outstretched finger. He's in a crowd of tourists exploring the ancient ruins. It's his son Jack's birthday, and they're spending it together.

These castles were designed to be impregnable from outside incursion. They usually fail due to internal strife. Mark's only half listening. He's looking at Jack. Each time he visits, he's changed so much. He asks about Jack's favourite game, Minecraft. Jack looks surprised. I haven't played that in years, Dad. It's been a long time since he's asked what his son likes doing. He feels out of touch, but wants to make up for lost time.

They hang back from the crowd, read the information plaques. Jack has a million questions. What job would someone who lived in a castle have done? Probably a landowner or lord. It's not really a job. What job would you have done? Probably a soldier or a guard. Is that what you do now? Mark has been thinking about his job a lot. All the time and energy he's invested. He's achieved more than any other undercover officer. Yet he feels hollow.

I know that this is his job, so of course he's going to take some pride in his work.

But knowing what he's doing to these people and that he takes a kind of egotistical buzz from it feels very strange. And kind of dangerous because I feel like he's constantly feeling like he's not getting enough credit for what he's doing. Yeah, constantly breaking down in tears, lying to two women who genuinely love him. And then at some points he's going, I mean, it's probably just the price of being the best undercover officer in the world. A loping figure with dreadlocks moves into Mark's eyeline.

Before he could turn away, he hears a familiar name. Flash! All right, man! Mark has met Dan a dozen times over the years. He comes towards him wearing a wide grin. I haven't seen you since climate camp! What are you doing here? Oh, man. This is someone from his undercover life. This could get knotty. Mark's pulse is racing. He looks at Jack, who hasn't noticed. He moves towards Dan, blocking sight of Jack.

Mark speaks in a low, urgent voice. He tries to steer him away. Listen, I can't talk about it. I'm sourcing something for a direct action. Dan looks puzzled. Here? In the castle? Jack comes wandering over. He stares at Dan. For a second, no one speaks. I didn't know you had kids. You're with Amy, right? Oh, my God. There's one thing I know about life. Kids repeat everything. You can't even swear in front of them. So true. And I don't even have kids.

Mark glances around. His mind races. He puts his arm around Jack's shoulders and moves off. He's my brother's kid, just visiting from the States. What? I mean, imagine you're Jack. You're so confused at this point. He pushes into the crowd, leaving Dan behind. He's angry at not being able to come up with something more convincing. He knows it looks suspicious. Mark imagines Amy hearing about this encounter, of having to come up with another cover story. The thought makes him feel nauseous.

He realizes he can't let his guard down anywhere. When they reach the car, he faces his son. I'm sorry you had to see that. You know what I do for work. I had to protect you. Jack stares off into the distance. When he speaks, his voice is hesitant. Who's Amy? Mark looks down. He wishes he could come clean, but he wouldn't know where to start.

Mark realises coming here was a mistake. The further he strays from Amy, the bigger the chance of being exposed. As they drive off, Mark decides he has to put Amy first. His family will have to cope without him. I mean, no one really knows what he's doing. There's not a single person in his life who knows exactly what he's up to. Yes, they've only got half of the jigsaw. And what a jigsaw.

October the 18th, 2010, Nottingham. Amy peers at the laminated menu. She's sitting in a cafe waiting for Logan. I bet I've been to it. Laminated menu, for sure you've been to it. He has some documents he wants to show her.

The aroma of frying meat hangs in the air. I love that smell. You've definitely been. She reads the menu ten times and still doesn't know what's on it. Just have the full English. You do know what's on it, don't you? Even if you don't know what's on it, you know what's on it. Jacket potato. Oh, is that why you'd have a calf? I do love a jacket potato. Not a bacon sandwich? Don't you, me? So what do you have on your jacket potato? Beans and cheese? Years. Years. Sometimes. I don't know if I want people to know this. Cold slaw.

What's the matter with you? I feel like I don't know you. Oh, a double life if ever there was one. Coleslaw on your jacket potato, but you said you like cheese and beans. My mission would last 24 hours. For the last few days, she's been processing Mark's betrayal. She tries to put herself in his position to imagine why he might keep his family from her. But the intense pain she feels is overwhelming.

A man in a stained apron with a cheerful face comes to the table. The cheese on toast is popular, if you can't decide. She looks up just as Logan enters. He's clutching an A4 folder. Logan sits down. Amy's appetite has vanished. I sent off a copy of Mark's birth certificate and one for his son, Jack. He moves a bottle of ketchup to clear a space, places the documents on the table. Amy picks up Mark's birth certificate. Her mouth falls open.

Oh boy. I'm so sorry, Amy. I found his wedding certificate too.

He's married to Edel. I've managed to find a number for her, if you think it would help. I mean, what do you do? Obviously, deep down you know you've probably got to ring her and tell her, but she's not the first person you'd want to talk to. She's maybe the only person who you think would know how you feel. That's true. Hours later, Amy picks up the phone and dials. She's decided to ask for Jack, just to check if the number's correct. She doesn't know what she'll say after that.

Her heart thuds in her chest. A man answers. She panics and puts on an accent. "Could I speak to Jack, please?" The line is quiet. All she can hear is soft breathing. There's a long pause. She repeats the question. "Does no one here by that name?" The line goes dead. Amy drops the phone and sinks to the floor. She's shaking. It feels like the walls are closing in. She recognized the voice on the line immediately. Mark isn't in America.

He's in Ireland with his wife and children. Everything he's told her is a lie. The man she loves, the man she's lived with for six years, is an invention. This season, Instacart has your back to school. As in, they've got your back to school lunch favorites, like snack packs and fresh fruit. And they've got your back to school supplies, like backpacks, binders, and pencils. And they've got your back when your kid casually tells you they have a huge school project due tomorrow.

Let's face it, we were all that kid. So first call your parents to say I'm sorry, and then download the Instacart app to get delivery in as fast as 30 minutes all school year long. Get a $0 delivery fee for your first three orders while supplies last. Minimum $10 per order. Additional terms apply. October the 20th, 2010. Nottingham, 1am. Great time to be out in Nottingham. That's when all the action happens. Mark stands on the doorstep.

He's focusing on his breathing, trying to regulate his pulse, but his mind is racing. He's back in Nottingham. Amy called and said she wants him to explain some things in person. She wouldn't say any more. Earlier, Mark went through some possible scenarios with his handler. He thinks he can talk his way out of it, but he hates the thought of looking into her eyes and lying. He's got a funny way of showing that. He's been doing it for six years. Practicing pretty hard.

To Mark's surprise, Logan opens the door. He leads him into the living room. Inside, soft candlelight flickers. A small group of familiar faces are sitting in a circle. Amy greets him. Thanks for coming. Mark grips the doorframe. What is this? He's ushered to the sofa, placed between two people. He keeps his jacket zipped up.

Across from him, Amy's face is calm in the soft light. But the warmth he usually sees in her eyes is missing. You've lied to me. You've lied to all of us. It's time to tell the truth, Mark. Who are you really? Mark's adrenaline is pumping. His voice is shaky. He clears his throat. Um, in the late 90s, I was a van driver working in Battersea. Try again, Mark. We know that's bullshit. Mark feels hot. He tries to focus.

The thrill of having a convincing cover story seems far away now. He feels defensive. Amy, can we talk alone? What do you think you know? She ignores the request. What did you say your dad did? Mark feels disorientated. He's losing patience and suddenly it seems more like an ambush. Look, what the hell is this? Eventually, Logan stands up. He stares at Mark. And when did you join the force?

Mark feels the energy drain from his body. He can't meet anyone's gaze. You can't ask me that. Logan hands him a document. It's his birth certificate. This is a fake. I created a new birth certificate to put the cartel off my scent. Come on, Mark. The game's up. Mark looks at Amy. There's a steeliness in her eyes. Then he looks around the room at all these people who, until about a month ago, thought they were his friend.

For each person in that room, the Metropolitan Police now has a file hundreds of pages long, describing everything about them, their families, what their hobbies are, their conversations late at night after a few beers, their sex lives. He created that file over weeks and months and years. He spied on these people, convinced them he was just like them.

And just to remind you, this is a police officer undercover, not with the IRA or ISIS, but with some eco-activists in Nottingham. All that information about the sex life and what beers they like, what actual use was that to the state? What public good was that information? This was all in the pursuit of something almost useless. At that moment, something inside Mark gives way and a wave of emotion crashes over him. He begins to violently sob.

I'm an undercover police officer. My real name is Mark Kennedy. He tells them about his unit and his mission, about how he was trying to do the right thing, to catch the bad guys. He says he wants to make amends. I regret everything. You've changed me. I'm on your side. That bit feels like a lie. He looks at Amy. His eyes plead with her. Her eyes are red with tears.

Hurt and pain etched across her face. "Amy, please believe me, I want to..." But his friends are on their feet, surrounding her. He moves towards them, but a hand to his chest pushes him back. He can hear Amy crying. Logan turns toward him. "You need to leave. Now." As he's bundled towards the door, Mark tries to get a glimpse of Amy. He calls her name, tries to hold onto the walls,

The shoves become harder until he eventually feels cold air on his skin. Here's the slam of the front door. Mark stands alone in the dark street. He knows it's over. There's nothing left, he could say. All he can do now is try to make it right. Good luck with that, Mark. November the 11th, 2010. Ohio, USA. Mark opens a beer and stands on the balcony of his brother's new apartment building.

A deep orange sunset has turned the streets below into a city of gold. It's been a month since the confrontation in Nottingham, but he's thought about it every day. He dials a number and listens to the overseas ringtone. A man answers. Thanks for calling. I wasn't sure you would. Anthony is part of a group that was arrested because of a large environmental protest. He emailed Mark when he heard the revelation that he was an undercover police officer.

He said he wanted to know why Mark did it. And after a few emails, they arranged to speak on the phone. There's already an article about you on Indy Media. People are furious.

Mark bristles at the thought. He was treated with decency that night, but knows the goodwill has since evaporated. His calls and messages to Amy have gone unanswered. I need you to know I'm devastated too. Hurting Amy is the worst thing I've ever done. I still love her. I wish I could make it right. If you really mean that, there is one thing you can do. Mark puts down his drink. You could give evidence against the police at our trial. You said yourself the pre-emptive arrest was overkill.

Mark moves the phone to his other ear. The Met would make my life hell. You don't know what they're like. He can hear a note of frustration in Anthony's voice. Mark looks at the vanishing sun on the horizon. He wonders what Amy's doing at that moment.

Look, I'll do whatever it takes. Just let me think. I really want to help. Anthony is thrilled. He says his lawyer will be in touch to arrange things. Before he hangs up, he tells Mark everyone deserves a second chance. Later, Mark watches the sky turn dark. He's served the police for 20 years and the thought of switching sides is unimaginable. He knows he can't help Anthony. Not like Mark to give the wrong impression to people about what he's going to do. Touché.

If Mark's life undercover is going to be made public, there are going to be questions to answer. He'll need protection. And he knows the Met is his safest bet. His first priority actually isn't doing the right thing at all. It's looking after himself. January 17th, 2011, Nottingham. Amy is lying on the sofa when she hears the front door open.

Moments later, Logan appears, a look of concern etched on his face. He's holding an armful of newspapers. Mark has given an exclusive interview to the Mail on Sunday. This doesn't feel like it's going in the right direction. He puts down the papers, which are snatched up by some of their friends. Amy opens one and gasps.

Staring back at her is a photo of Mark, and he's unrecognisable. His hair is short and neat, and he's cleanly shaven. He's wearing a pink check shirt under a grey v-neck sweater. Her friend laughs. He looks like a neighbourhood watch organiser! But Amy feels the anger of his betrayal surface again. She's spent weeks trying to process what has happened, but the effect is so enormous she still can't make sense of it. She reads aloud.

Mark Kennedy is on the run from activists who have made death threats against him. But he's also been swamped with offers for book and movie rights to his life story. Hang on, this isn't the shame of Mark Kennedy, I've done wrong. This is I'm the victim and also might be a film star. No one she knows would dream of threatening his life. Is Mark incapable of telling the truth? I think so, yeah. She reads on. I've always respected the police. I've given my life to them.

She thinks of how Mark used to talk about the police. He was notorious for his hatred of them. As she reads, she feels her anger building. Mark describes the night that he came clean to her and the others. But in his version, he says he was ambushed by them, intimidated. This is so annoying. It's gross. The next paragraph causes Amy's eyes to widen even further. Mark says the thing everyone needs to understand is he's not a lone wolf.

The Met has placed dozens of officers inside of these activist groups. Oh, man. Amy drops the paper. She can't believe what she's reading. If it's true, that means there are women out there just like her who have been gaslighted and lied to and betrayed. And in that moment, she understands Mark isn't a rogue element going against his superior's orders. He's taking instructions from the top. She stands up.

This article is all about Mark, but it's Amy who's been wronged. By Mark, by the Metropolitan Police, by the British establishment itself. And now it's time she started to fight back. This is the second episode in our series, Spy Cops. A quick note about this episode. The character of Amy is fictionalized. Her story contains details from the experiences of many of the women affected by undercover police.

You can read about them in the book Deep Deception, the story of the spy cops network by the women who uncovered the shocking truth. If you'd like to know more about this story, you can read Undercover by Paul Lewis and Rob Evans. You can also listen to the Bed of Lies podcast from Karama Gugan and The Telegraph. I'm Alice Levine. And I'm Matt Ford. Jack McKay wrote this episode. Additional writing by Alice Levine and Matt Ford.

Our sound design is by Richard Ward. Script editing by James Magnac. Our associate producer is Francesca Gilardi Quadriocorsio. Our senior producer is Joe Sykes. Our executive producers are Jenny Beckman, Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Wondery.

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