Phone numbers are a goldmine for SIM swappers. A researcher found how to get this precious piece of information through a clever brute-force attack.

A cybersecurity researcher was able to figure out the phone number linked to any Google account, information that is usually not public and is often sensitive, according to the researcher, Google, and 404 Media’s own tests.

The issue has since been fixed but at the time presented a privacy issue in which even hackers with relatively few resources could have brute forced their way to peoples’ personal information.

“I think this exploit is pretty bad since it's basically a gold mine for SIM swappers,” the independent security researcher who found the issue, who goes by the handle brutecat, wrote in an email. SIM swappers are hackers who take over a target's phone number in order to receive their calls and texts, which in turn can let them break into all manner of accounts.

In mid-April, we provided brutecat with one of our personal Gmail addresses in order to test the vulnerability. About six hours later, brutecat replied with the correct and full phone number linked to that account.

“Essentially, it's bruting the number,” brutecat said of their process. Brute forcing is when a hacker rapidly tries different combinations of digits or characters until finding the ones they’re after. Typically that’s in the context of finding someone’s password, but here brutecat is doing something similar to determine a Google user’s phone number.

Brutecat said in an email the brute forcing takes around one hour for a U.S. number, or 8 minutes for a UK one. For other countries, it can take less than a minute, they said.

In an accompanying video demonstrating the exploit, brutecat explains an attacker needs the target’s Google display name. They find this by first transferring ownership of a document from Google’s Looker Studio product to the target, the video says. They say they modified the document’s name to be millions of characters, which ends up with the target not being notified of the ownership switch. Using some custom code, which they detailed in their write up, brutecat then barrages Google with guesses of the phone number until getting a hit.

“The victim isn’t notified at all :)” a caption in the video reads.

A Google spokesperson told 404 Media in a statement “This issue has been fixed. We've always stressed the importance of working with the security research community through our vulnerability rewards program and we want to thank the researcher for flagging this issue. Researcher submissions like this are one of the many ways we’re able to quickly find and fix issues for the safety of our users.”

Phone numbers are a key piece of information for SIM swappers. These sorts of hackers have been linked to countless hacks of individual people in order to steal online usernames or cryptocurrency. But sophisticated SIM swappers have also escalated to targeting massive companies. Some have worked directly with ransomware gangs from Eastern Europe.

Armed with the phone number, a SIM swapper may then impersonate the victim and convince their telecom to reroute text messages to a SIM card the hacker controls. From there, the hacker can request password reset text messages, or multi-factor authentication codes, and log into the victim’s valuable accounts. This could include accounts that store cryptocurrency, or even more damaging, their email, which in turn could grant access to many other accounts.

On its website, the FBI recommends people do not publicly advertise their phone number for this reason. “Protect your personal and financial information. Don’t advertise your phone number, address, or financial assets, including ownership or investment of cryptocurrency, on social media sites,” the site reads.

In their write-up, brutecat said Google awarded them $5,000 and some swag for their findings. Initially, Google marked the vulnerability as having a low chance of exploitation. The company later upgraded that likelihood to medium, according to brutecat’s write-up.

A Researcher Figured Out How to Reveal Any Phone Number Linked to a Google Account

Plus: A 22-year-old former intern gets put in charge of a key anti-terrorism program, threat intelligence firms finally wrangle their confusing names for hacker groups, and more.

Since it’s already chaos out there, this week, we thought we’d lean into the madness by envisioning the future threats that you’re not ready for. From cyberattacks on the US grid to GPS blackouts, rampant deepfake scams, AI-powered super hackers, and widespread communication system collapse, there’s a whole spectrum of scenarios that could take things from bad to worse.

All is not lost, however—at least if you’re Ross Ulbricht. The creator of the Silk Road dark web market, who was pardoned by President Donald Trump earlier this year, received a mysterious $31 million bitcoin donation last weekend. Crypto-tracing firm Chainalysis now suspects the lavish gift may have come from a vendor at another now-defunct black market, AlphaBay.

A trove of public records reviewed by WIRED this week reveal a years-long effort by a farming industry group to get the FBI to treat animal rights activists as a “bioterrorist” threat. The Animal Agriculture Alliance (AAA) was repeatedly in contact with the bureau’s Weapons of Mass Destruction Directorate about the activities of groups like Direct Action Everywhere, or DxE. The records show that AAA fed intelligence about DxE to the FBI and used corporate spies to infiltrate the group’s activities.

Immigration and Customs Enforcement recently updated its guidance for agents who carry out courthouse raids and other “enforcement actions” in and nearby court houses, according to an agency document reviewed by WIRED. The updated policy removes language that explicitly instructed agents to ensure they followed local and state laws.

Anyone who was trying to play a new video game on Christmas Day in 2014 likely remembers the infamous Lizardsquad hack of Xbox Live and Playstation Network. Now, more than a decade later, we finally have the full story.

But that’s not all! Each week, we round up the security and privacy news we didn’t cover in depth ourselves. Click the headlines to read the full stories. And stay safe out there.

**Mysterious iPhone Crashes Hint at a Chinese Hacks. Apple Denies It**

The security firm iVerify this week brought to light a series of suspicious iPhone crashes that researchers say might just indicate a stealthy, unprecedented Chinese zero-click hacking campaign victimizing American phones, including even those of staffers for the Harris-Walz presidential campaign. Or it’s a random, not-particularly-dangerous bug that Apple has already squashed.

In a report released Thursday, iVerify assessed with “moderate confidence” that China-linked hackers may have targeted a series of iPhones with a sophisticated exploit, going after activists and dissidents critical of China, an EU government official, tech executives at AI firms competing with Chinese ones, and US political staffers—revealed by NBC News to be employees of the Harris-Walz campaign. iVerify didn’t have a sample of the malware that might have infected those phones or other definitive proof that any hacking occurred. But it pointed to signs that seem like more than coincidences: The staffers whose phones had experienced the crashes had also been warned by the FBI that they’d already been targeted in China’s Salt Typhoon hacking campaign against US telecoms. Another owner of the devices that crashed in the same way was later warned by Apple itself that he or she had been targeted by sophisticated hackers.

All of that would represent a serious threat to national security. Except that, strangely, Apple flatly denies it happened. “We strongly disagree with the claims of a targeted attack against our users,” Apple’s head of security engineering, Ivan Krstić, wrote in a statement to WIRED. Apple has patched the issue that iVerify highlighted in its report, which caused iPhones to crash in certain cases when a message sender changed their own nickname and avatar. But it calls those crashes the result of a “conventional software bug,” not evidence of a targeted exploitation. (That blanket denial certainly isn’t Apple’s usual response to confirmed iPhone hacking. The company has, for instance, sued hacking firm NSO group for its targeting of Apple customers.)

The result is that what might have been a four-alarm fire in the counterintelligence world is reduced—for now—to a very troubling enigma.

**A 22-Year-Old Is Running a Key US Anti-Terrorism Program**

A 22-year-old former intern at the Heritage Foundation with no national security experience has reportedly been appointed to a key Department of Homeland Security role overseeing a major program designed to combat domestic terrorism.

According to Propublica, Thomas Fugate last month assumed leadership of the Center for Programs and Partnerships (CP3), a DHS office tasked with funding nationwide efforts to prevent politically motivated violence—including school shootings and other forms of domestic terrorism.

Fugate, a 2024 graduate of the University of Texas at San Antonio, replaced the former CP3 director, Bill Braniff, an Army veteran with 20 years of national security experience who resigned in March following staff cuts ordered by the Trump administration.

According to CP3’s most recent report to Congress, the office has funded more than 1,100 initiatives aimed at disrupting violent extremism. In recent months, the US has seen a string of high-profile targeted attacks, including a car bombing in California and the shooting of two Israeli Embassy aids in Washington, DC. Its $18 million grant program, designed to support local prevention efforts, is reportedly now under Fugate’s supervision.

**Threat Intelligence Firms (Finally) Agree to a Glossary of Hacker Group Names**

Hacker group names have long been an unavoidable absurdity in the cybersecurity industry. Every threat intelligence company, in a scientifically defensible attempt to not make any assumption that they’re tracking the same hackers as another firm, comes up with their own code name for any group they observe. The result is a somewhat silly profusion of overlapping naming systems based on elements, weather, and zoology: “Fancy Bear” is “Forest Blizzard” is “APT28” is “Strontium.” Now, several major threat intelligence players, including Google, Microsoft, CrowdStrike, and Palo Alto Networks, have finally shared enough of their internal research to agree to a glossary that confirms that they’re referring to the same entities. The companies did _not,_ however, agree to consolidate their naming systems into a single taxonomy. So this agreement doesn’t mean the end of sentences in security reporting such as “the hacker group Sandworm, also known as Telebots, Voodoo Bear, Hades, Iron Viking, Electrum, or Seashell Blizzard.” It just means we cybersecurity reporters can write that sentence with a little more confidence.

**Phone-Hacking Firm Corellium Acquired for $200 Million—After Trump Pardons Its Founder**

Chris Wade, the founder and CTO of mobile device reverse-engineering company Corellium, has had a wild last few decades: In 2005, he was convicted on criminal charges of enabling spammers by providing them proxy servers, and agreed to work undercover for law enforcement while avoiding prison. Then in 2020, he mysteriously received a pardon from President Donald Trump. He also settled a major copyright lawsuit from Apple. Now his company, which creates virtual images of Android and iOS devices so that customers can find ways to break into them, is being acquired by phone-hacking firm Cellebrite, a major law enforcement contractor, for $200 million—a significant payday for a hacker who has found himself on both sides of the law.

The Mystery of iPhone Crashes That Apple Denies Are Linked to Chinese Hacking

In an effort to evade detection, cybercriminals are increasingly turning to “residential proxy” services that cover their tracks by making it look like everyday online activity.

For years, gray-market services known as “bulletproof” hosts have been a key tool for cybercriminals looking to anonymously maintain web infrastructure with no questions asked. But as global law enforcement scrambles to crack down on digital threats, they have developed strategies for getting customer information from these hosts and have increasingly targeted the people behind the services with indictments. At the cybercrime-focused conference Sleuthcon in in Arlington, Virginia, today, researcher Thibault Seret outlined how this shift has pushed both bulletproof hosting companies and criminal customers toward an alternative approach.

Rather than relying on web hosts to find ways of operating outside law enforcement's reach, some service providers have turned to offering purpose-built VPNs and other proxy services as a way of rotating and masking customer IP addresses and offering infrastructure that either intentionally doesn't log traffic or mixes traffic from many sources together. And while the technology isn't new, Seret and other researchers emphasized to WIRED that the transition to using proxies among cybercrminals over the last couple of years is significant.

“The issue is, you cannot technically distinguish which traffic in a node is bad and which traffic is good,” Seret, a researcher at the threat intelligence firm Team Cymru, told WIRED ahead of his talk. “That's the magic of a proxy service—you cannot tell who’s who. It's good in terms of internet freedom, but it's super, super tough to analyze what’s happening and identify bad activity.”

The core challenge of addressing cybercriminal activity hidden by proxies is that the services may also, even primarily, be facilitating legitimate, benign traffic. Criminals and companies that don't want to lose them as clients have particularly been leaning on what are known as “residential proxies,” an array of decentralized nodes that can run on consumer devices—even old Android phones or low-end laptops—offering real, rotating IP addresses assigned to homes and offices. Such services offer anonymity and privacy, but can also shield malicious traffic.

By making malicious traffic look like it comes from trusted consumer IP addresses, attackers make it much more difficult for organizations' scanners and other threat detection tools to spot suspicious activity. And, crucially, residential proxies and other decentralized platforms that run on disparate consumer hardware reduce a service provider's insight and control, making it more difficult for law enforcement to get anything useful from them.

“Attackers have been ramping up their use of residential networks for attacks over the last two to three years,” says Ronnie Tokazowski, a longtime digital scams researcher and cofounder of the nonprofit Intelligence for Good. “If attackers are coming from the same residential ranges as, say, employees of a target organization, it's harder to track.”

Criminal use of proxies isn't new. In 2016, for example, the US Department of Justice said that one of the obstacles in a years-long investigation of the notorious “Avalanche” cybercriminal platform was the service's use of a “fast-flux” hosting method that concealed the platform's malicious activity using constantly changing proxy IP addresses. But the rise of proxies as a gray-market service rather than something attackers must develop in-house is an important shift.

“I don’t know yet how we can improve the proxy issue,” Team Cymru's Seret told WIRED. “I guess law enforcement could target known malicious proxy providers like they did with bulletproof hosts. But in general, proxies are whole internet services used by everyone. Even if you take down one malicious service, that doesn't solve the larger challenge.”

Cybercriminals Are Hiding Malicious Web Traffic in Plain Sight

Crypto-tracing firm Chainalysis says the mysterious 300-bitcoin donation to the pardoned Silk Road creator appears to have come from someone associated with a different defunct black market: AlphaBay.

When Ross Ulbricht received a $31 million bitcoin donation last weekend from an unknown source, many observers saw it as more than a very nice welcome-home gift. Rumors swirled that the creator of the Silk Road, less than five months after receiving a pardon from Donald Trump that saved him from a lifetime in prison, was sending himself a trove of his stashed criminal proceeds from his days running the dark web's first black market more than a decade prior.

Now cryptocurrency tracing investigators say they've arrived at a stranger explanation: The money wasn't originally Ulbricht's, and didn't come from the Silk Road. Instead, they suspect it came from a _different_ long-defunct dark-web black market: AlphaBay.

The crypto tracing firm Chainalysis tells WIRED that, based on blockchain analysis, it has tied the origin of the 300 bitcoins sent to Ulbricht on Sunday to someone involved in AlphaBay, a dark web market that sold a wide variety of drugs and cybercriminal contraband from 2014 to 2017 and eventually grew to be 10 times the size of the Silk Road, according to the FBI.

Chainalysis says the funds appear to have emerged from AlphaBay around 2016 and 2017. Given the amount of the donation, Chainalysis suggests it might have come from someone who acted as a large-scale seller on the market. “We have reasonable grounds to suspect that these funds originated in AlphaBay,” says Phil Larratt, Chainalysis's director of investigations and a former official at the UK's National Crime Agency. “Looking at the amount, that would suggest they came from someone who was possibly a vendor on AlphaBay back in the early days.”

WIRED reached out to Ulbricht for comment about the donation's origin via contacts at the Free Ross campaign that lobbied for his pardon, but didn't immediately receive a response.

Prior to Chainalysis’ finding that the $31 million donation appears to have originated at AlphaBay, the independent crypto-tracing investigator known as ZachXBT had already posted to his account on X his own findings that the money didn't appear to have come from the Silk Road. ZachXBT found that, despite the donor's use of multiple Bitcoin “mixers” that take in users' coins and return others to obfuscate their trail on the blockchain, he was able to trace the funds to an address that had been flagged in Chainalysis’ software tool Reactor as tied to illicit activity. That analysis suggested that the money was a “legitimate donation but not legitimate funds,” ZachXBT wrote in a text message to WIRED.

ZachXBT also found that the same individual who controlled the funds had cashed out other cryptocurrency at an exchange in small, distributed quantities rather than in a single sum, suggesting he or she may have been trying to prevent them being seized or flagged—another sign that the money may have come from criminal origins. “Usage of multiple mixers, spreading out CEX deposits, etc,” ZachXBT writes to WIRED, using the term CEX to mean a centralized exchange, “that is done typically if you are trying to avoid getting illicit funds frozen.”

Chainalysis declined to offer more information on how exactly it identified the funds as originating at AlphaBay. But the company has built a business around identifying illicit services like digital black markets out of the morass of billions of cryptocurrency addresses. Chainalysis’ identification of the AlphaBay cluster of bitcoin addresses, in fact, played a key role in the takedown of the market in a law enforcement investigation known as Operation Bayonet that spanned 2016 and 2017.

AlphaBay certainly produced plenty of crypto kingpins who would have the kind of eight-figure sum donated to Ulbricht. Before it was torn offline in an elaborate sting operation in July 2017, the site was facilitating $2 million a day in sales, largely of illegal drugs although it also offered malware, stolen data, and other cybercriminal wares. AlphaBay's creator and administrator, Alexandre Cazes, died in a Bangkok jail cell under mysterious circumstances following his arrest, but the site's second-in-command, who went by the handle Desnake, appears to have remained at large. Any bitcoins an AlphaBay seller or administrator managed to hold onto since the site’s closure would have since appreciated more than 40-fold.

Exactly why one of AlphaBay's crypto moguls would donate $31 million to Ulbricht, however, remains a mystery. Speculation on social media has ranged from a fellow black marketeer repaying a favor to a more principled gift intended to thank Ulbricht for blazing a trail with his invention of the Silk Road's crypto-enabled anonymous transactions.

That gratitude may also take into account that, while many got rich on the dark-web markets that Ulbricht pioneered, he instead spent over a decade in prison, speculates Taylor Monahan, a crypto tracer and security researcher at crypto firm MetaMask. “People donate when they’re deeply inspired by someone and/or grateful and/or have some sort of remorse for the situation,” says Monahan. “Survivor's guilt is wild.”

Ross Ulbricht Got a $31 Million Donation From a Dark Web Dealer, Crypto Tracers Suspect

On Christmas Day in 2014 hackers knocked out the Xbox and PlayStation gaming networks, impacting how video game companies handled cybersecurity for years.

The Andersons are Christmas traditionalists. Dan says it’s more his wife Paige than him, but secretly he also loves all the fuss.

So, there they were on the sofa in their pajamas in front of the twinkling Christmas tree before the sun had risen over a chilly morning in Buffalo, New York. Thirty-two-year-old Dan was proud and smug as he handed over his gift to Paige—a “fancy new Kindle Voyage.” She loved it. Then it was his turn, and he excitedly ripped into the wrapping paper watched over by his confused dogs—one of which was tellingly named after Dan’s favorite computer-game character (Vivi from _Final Fantasy_). As the present revealed itself, the avid gamer saw the instantly recognizable and much-loved logo—it was a brand-new PlayStation 4. Straight away he unpacked it, rigged it up to the TV, and switched it on. The plan was to get it fired up and download _LittleBigPlanet 3_ to play for a few hours before meeting up with family.

Paige had been looking forward to it since she bought the new console. However, it wasn’t to be. “We didn’t even make it as far as starting to download the game, because it wouldn’t let me log in to PlayStation Network,” Dan said. “Nothing was online at all, so we couldn’t even try and download games.” Disappointedly they headed out for the day’s events and couldn’t try again until that evening, when they discovered that the network was still down. A $400 gift they couldn’t play. Dan had to work the next day too, so he couldn’t even try it then. He was gutted.

Five hundred and fifty miles north, in Toronto, 16-year-old Mustafa Aijaz was pumped. Christmas Day—particularly the evening—was the best game time of the year. It’s always been a bit of a holiday within the holiday for serious players. The tradition revolves around a phenomenon called “Christmas Noobs.” At Christmas, so many new players receive new games and consoles that online games are flooded with a tidal wave of gamers who often fumble their way through the top games and act like cannon fodder for the waiting legions of seasoned veterans. Mustafa and his mates were skilled at _Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare_. “We were all ready for a night of easy wins, quick XP \[experience points\] farming, and were looking forward to leveling up like crazy.” So, they waited like crocodiles anticipating herds of migrating buffalo to enter the river. But just as the bullets started flying they were all unceremoniously chucked out of their matches and knocked offline. “None of us could log back in, and party chat was down too, so we couldn’t even talk to each other to figure out what was happening,” Mustafa said.

It was all over social media: A group of hackers called Lizard Squad were bragging about their massive DDoS attack on Xbox Live and PlayStation Network—the crucial services that linked tens of millions of gamers to the Microsoft and Sony servers. Mustafa had seen that the group had already carried out smaller-scale attacks and had for weeks been taunting and threatening a big attack. Apparently it was all linked to some silly and incomprehensible spat with a rival but minor hacking group. Mustafa was angry but also fascinated by the attack and the incredible reaction online. “The fallout was instantaneous. People were furious,” he said.

PlayStation Network at the time had about 110 million subscribers, and Xbox Live had roughly 48 million. Xbox was back to normal within 24 hours—on Boxing Day. But PlayStation struggled for longer. It didn’t just affect existing subscribers. Before you can use any new games, consoles, or vouchers, you need to register them via the gaming company’s servers. It was a catastrophe for the games industry, especially Sony, which had already been having a tough time after a different cyberattack the previous month.

Services were down around the world. Error messages in dozens of languages were being posted as screenshots on YouTube and Twitter. There was nothing anyone could do until the engineers at Sony and Microsoft figured it out or Lizard Squad stopped the attack.

Late in the evening on Boxing Day, BBC Radio 5 Live aired an interview with two members of the group. They showed zero remorse for the impact they’d had on people around the world. Twelve hours later I walked into the newsroom and was given the seemingly impossible task of “getting a Lizard” on the evening TV bulletin at Sky News.

It took hours of trawling Twitter and speaking to dozens of wannabes and fakes, but I eventually succeeded in finding contact details for a British man called Vinnie Omari. Incredibly, he lived a few miles from our newsroom in west London. He agreed to come to us for the interview and was pale, skinny, wore all black and talked fast. He was at pains to distance himself from the gang but left the studios promising that a Lizard Squad hacker called “Ryan” would be in touch. I had no idea at the time of course that this “Ryan” was Julius Kivimäki—an already infamous teenage hacker and delinquent from Finland. It was later that afternoon—at around 3 pm —that “Ryan” called through on Skype. Just in time for us to edit our conversation with him into our news piece.

The 17-year-old looked very young and pale and had a shaved head and soft features. In spite of everything, he was polite and seemed in no rush. But he was also utterly unremorseful and arrogant, struggling to stifle a smirk throughout the interview. When I started by asking him why he wanted to ruin Christmas for tens of millions of people, he gave me the same boilerplate answer about the boys doing it to amuse themselves and embarrass these tech mega corps. “These companies make tens of millions every month from just their subscriber fees, and they should have more than enough funding to be able to protect against these attacks.” We went back and forth for about 15 minutes without him giving any hint of regret or awareness for how many people had been affected by his stunt.

“I’d be worried if those people didn’t have anything better to do than play games on their consoles at Christmas Eve and Christmas Day,” he said. “I mean, I can’t really say I feel bad. I might have forced a couple of kids to spend their time with their families instead of playing games.”

The interview blew up online, with more than a million views on YouTube and thousands of comments on Twitter, where many four-letter words were hurled at the Lizards. PlayStation and Xbox also received a torrent of abuse. Later they would offer a five-day extension to players’ subscription periods and 10 percent off as compensation. The resulting bill for the company must easily have been in the millions.

Kivimäki went on to speak to other reporters, sometimes calling himself Ryan Cleary (a reference to another hacker he had vague and likely acrimonious link to from a previous teen hacker gang called LulzSec). In one interview and debate on YouTube channel DramaAlert he is implored by Kim Dotcom to stop the silly hacker rivalries that were impacting so many innocent people. “Hackers used to be respected; they used to have a magic about them,” Kim said, accusing Lizard Squad of harming the image of hackers around the world with their actions. Kivimäki’s response is fascinating: He laughed it off as old-fashioned thinking. “It’s wrong to connect groups like Lizard Squad with, for example, L0pht from a couple of decades back,” he said. “There’s really no connection with the hacking groups of today and the hacking groups of two decades ago. The meaning is totally different now.”

Although many security experts angrily railed against the media’s portrayal of Lizard Squad as “sophisticated,” people grudgingly came to accept that the Christmas attack did have a big impact on cybersecurity and the gaming industry. There’s little doubt that this was not the group’s motive—despite their clumsy attempts to claim so in interviews. But it was a wake-up call. Security website SecurityAffairs wrote a “lessons learned” piece by dissecting my interview with Kivimäki. Many people considered Lizard Squad script kiddies, they wrote, adding, “This approach is totally wrong.”

The size of the attack unleashed on that day would be shrugged off by most modern sites, but DDoS attacks are still commonplace and are getting more powerful. Expensive protection services are now a must-have for any organization that needs to stay online.

The attacks also started something of a cybercrime trend. In 2024 Europol unveiled an international law enforcement operation to take DDoS services down in December: “The festive season has long been a peak period for hackers to carry out some of their most disruptive DDoS attacks, causing severe financial loss, reputational damage, and operational chaos for their victims,” the organization said in a statement.

At the time of Lizard Squad’s attacks, the general public was stunned. Despite Lizard Squad being on the tail end of a wave of teenage hacking groups in the 2010s, there was little awareness of the power that could be wielded by these otherwise amateur attackers. There might have been a vague feeling in the zeitgeist that “hackers in hoodies in their bedrooms” were increasingly causing problems, but this attack was immediate, unmissable, and easy to understand. It was of course also easy to get angry about. Over the next couple of days I came back to the story with follow-ups about the fallout as other Lizard Squad members spoke to YouTubers about the so-called “drama.” But the big thing the newsroom kept asking me was, When would these kids be arrested?

Vinnie Omari was the first. On New Year’s Eve he was raided by the South East Regional Organized Crime Unit, which collared him on suspicion of cyber fraud offenses committed in 2013 and 2014. It looked like the raid was for other alleged offenses involving PayPal fraud, but the search warrant, which later surfaced online, also referenced the Christmas DDoS attacks. “They took everything: Xbox One, phones, laptops, computer USBs, etc.,” Omari told reporter William Turton from the Daily Dot. He was later cleared of any involvement.

After Omari’s arrest, other Lizards were taken out too. On January 16, 2015, police announced that they had arrested an 18-year-old in Southport, near Liverpool. They didn’t give a name, but reporters at the Daily Mail identified him: “The ‘quiet’ teenager, named locally as Jordan Lee-Bevan, was arrested during a raid at his semi-detached home in Southport, Merseyside, today, with officers seizing computers as he was taken away in a police car.”

In 2016 teenager Zachary Buchta from Maryland was also arrested for his role in Lizard Squad and another group called PoodleCorp. As a boy he had been warned in 2014 about his criminal path by police who had caught him carrying out minor cybercrime activity. But he was undeterred and even changed his Twitter profile at one stage to @fbiarelosers to taunt the cops.

At the same time that Buchta was arrested, Dutch police raided and arrested another 19-year-old. Bradley van Rooy, who used the names “Uchiha” or “UchihaLS,” was accused of conspiring with other members of Lizard Squad to operate websites that provided cyberattack-for-hire services, facilitating thousands of DDoS attacks and trafficking stolen payment card account information for thousands of victims.

Bradley was put on bail for two years and eventually given a two-year suspended sentence and 180 hours of community service. The vast majority of charges against him were dropped as they had taken place when he was a minor. He ended up being convicted of the DDoS-for-hire operation and handling stolen credit cards. I tracked him down, and he openly talked about that period of his life, which he had put behind him a long time ago. “I’m now 27, and I see the damage that I did and understand that there could have been a higher punishment,” he says. “But then I also see that I was just a kid, and I had a troubled time at school and just fell into the hacking life after meeting the wrong people when I was playing the game _RuneScape_.”

Bradley’s journey and words track so perfectly to the experiences of almost every hacker I have met or interviewed. It’s as though there is a universal constant, whereby a subset of gamers in every generation is pulled into cybercrime in exactly the same way. There are literally billions of gamers in the world, so these people represent only a tiny fraction. But it seems to be inevitable and cyclical as hacker groups rise and fall.

The differentiating and more important aspect, though, is how these boys and young men react when they cross the line and are caught.

So what of Julius Kivimäki, aka “Ryan,” aka “Ryan Cleary” and many other aliases including the by now infamous “Zeekill”?

Surely, after appearing on TV and radio admitting that he was part of the gang, he too would be rearrested sharpish? Officers did indeed visit Kivimäki to interview him, but they did not arrest him—contrary to reports in the international media. It’s not clear why they took no further action, but perhaps when the teenager confidently said that police would find nothing on his computer he was right. “They’d have to let me go,” he had cockily asserted in our interview. If so, maybe his run-in with police years earlier had taught him to cover his tracks more effectively. Or maybe he hadn’t taken as much of a leading role in the DDoS attacks as he had claimed.

For Finnish cybercrime cop Antti Kurittu, seeing Kivimäki on TV was especially galling. Antti had raided and arrested Kivimaki two years earlier for other cyberattacks carried out with a different teenage cyber gang called HTP. “I remember watching your Sky News interview and just thinking ‘wow, this guy is not even trying to cover up his crimes. He’s just a different sort of person,’” Antti recalls.

It wasn’t until July 2015 that Kivimäki received his first criminal conviction. He was found guilty of the rather preposterous total of 50,700 instances of aggravated computer break-ins—one for every computer enslaved into HTPs botnet. He was also convicted of other offenses including data breach, money laundering, and being in possession of, and using, stolen credit cards. For all of these offenses, he was handed a two-year suspended sentence. If he had been an adult he could have got years behind bars, but as a minor and first-time offender he served no time in prison. So Kivimäki, just a few weeks from his 18th birthday, remained free. He began calling himself the “Untouchable Hacker God” on Twitter.

A year after Kivimäki’s sentencing, in a bizarre coincidence, Antti bumped into Kivimäki in Amsterdam. It was April 2016 and Antti was walking through the departures lounge of Schiphol Airport when he passed the by-then 18-year-old. Antti did a double take, gobsmacked to see him. It was so surreal that they both found it amusing and took a selfie. After a short chat, Antti asked Kivimäki if he was now “staying out of trouble.” Kivimäki replied, “Of course.” But when Antti asked him for a contact email address, he made one up with “@FBI.gov” at the end. They laughed and went their separate ways.

But, as Antti predicted, the Untouchable Hacker God would be back. Four years later he was. And this time he was linked to the cruelest cyberattack in history and had a new alias: ransom\_man.

_Excerpt adapted from_ Ctrl+Alt+Chaos: How Teenage Hackers Hijack the Internet _by Joe Tidy. Published by arrangement with Elliott & Thompson. Copyright © 2025 by Joe Tidy._

What Really Happened in the Aftermath of the Lizard Squad Hacks

A requirement that ICE agents ensure courthouse arrests don’t clash with state and local laws has been rescinded by the agency. ICE declined to explain what that means for future enforcement.

Immigration and Customs Enforcement has quietly rescinded guidance that advised ICE agents conducting courthouse raids to take steps to avoid violating state and local laws while carrying out civil immigration arrests. The subtle policy change could lead to an escalation in enforcement tactics and legal disputes.

Revised policy guidance recently posted to ICE’s website and reviewed by WIRED reveals efforts by the agency to enhance the discretion and autonomy of the federal agents making arrests in and around courthouses—one of the more aggressive initiatives employed by the Trump administration as part of its all-out push to round up migrants across the United States and its territories. The policy revision has not been previously reported.

In recent weeks, ICE agents have made high-profile arrests of immigrants attending routine court hearings, as part of the administration’s effort to conduct what Trump calls the largest deportation campaign in American history.

The change in guidance comes amid sweeping ICE raids across the US, some sparking protests and heated confrontations with citizens, threatening an erosion of local autonomy and democratic governance over law enforcement operations within communities, while further blurring the line between civil and criminal enforcement.

Interim guidance, issued in January by ICE’s former acting director, Caleb Vitello, ordered agents to ensure that courthouse arrests were “not precluded by laws imposed by the jurisdiction in which enforcement actions will take place.” Todd Lyons, the current acting director, issued a superseding memo dated May 27 that removes the language about respecting local laws and statutes that limit ICE agents from performing “enforcement actions” in or near courthouses.

“The old policy required ICE to consult with a legal adviser to determine whether making an arrest at or near a courthouse might violate a nonfederal law. The new policy eliminates that requirement,” says Anthony Enriquez, vice president at RFK Human Rights, a human rights advocacy nonprofit. “Now, these frequently complex legal questions fall to the judgment of a line officer untrained in local laws.”

“It is certainly yet another effort to unleash and expand ICE's enforcement operations without regard to state law,” says Emma Winger, deputy legal director at the American Immigration Council.

Federal policy guidance is not legally binding, but it carries the power of law in practice, mandating procedures that ICE agents must follow in carrying out enforcement operations.

In response to a request for comment, ICE spokesperson Mike Alvarez referred WIRED to the May 27 memorandum. ICE declined to clarify whether it would continue to consider local courthouse policies and security protocols during enforcement actions.

Vitello, responsible for issuing the original guidance, was appointed ICE acting director by President Donald Trump soon after inauguration. Vitello was removed in late February and reportedly transferred to oversee the agency’s deportation operations. Lyons assumed the acting directorship in March.

The Biden administration previously limited ICE enforcement actions in and around courthouses in 2021, saying the arrests—which reportedly spiked during Trump’s first term—“had a chilling effect on individuals’ willingness to come to court or work cooperatively with law enforcement.”

ICE policies continue to advise agents to “generally avoid” actions around courts focused on civil matters—the vast majority of immigration cases are civil in nature—without the authorization of a high-ranking supervisor. However, under Biden, such actions could only be taken at courts (of any kind) to resolve a national security matter or to prevent threats to public safety or the destruction of evidence material to a criminal case. The Biden-era policy was a response, in turn, to 2018 guidance issued under Trump, which had directed ICE to arrest migrants at local courthouses.

Last month, at a meeting shortly before Lyons once again altered the policy, Trump deputy chief of staff for policy Stephen Miller and Department of Homeland Security director Kristi Noem reportedly told ICE to deport 3,000 people per day, according to Axios, a drastic increase over the first Trump administration’s deportation rates.

Earlier this week, Lyons defended his agents' use of masks to hide their identities following a confrontation with citizens outside the Buona Forchetta restaurant in San Diego, California. Videos of the event captured by bystanders showed agents deploying flash-bang-type devices in an attempt to disperse the crowd. Passersby protesting the raid outside the South Park neighborhood restaurant can be overheard calling the masked agents “Nazis” and “fascists.”

Winger explains that ICE has long made arrests inside state courthouses without regard for state law. Agents often use court dockets, for instance, to locate migrants scheduled to appear in court, facilitating targeted arrests.

Last month, ICE agents arrested at least a dozen immigrants as they arrived at New York City courthouses for scheduled hearings—including a Bronx high school student. Under New York State law, federal immigration authorities are barred from making civil arrests in and around state courthouses without a judicial warrant. The law does not, however, restrict ICE from making arrests in federal courthouses, where immigration and asylum hearings are typically held. The City of New York on Monday sued Lyons and ICE, as well as DHS and Noem, over the Bronx student’s arrest in an effort to effect his release.

Winger expects the May 27 policy shift will impact states such as Colorado that have similar protections.

Last week, DHS published a list of so-called sanctuary jurisdictions that includes dozens of cities and counties that DHS said were not compliant with federal law. The effort was seemingly part of an initiative to push back against municipalities it believes are obstructing its immigration goals. On Sunday, after protests from local governments, DHS scrubbed the list from its website.

“This policy memorandum change is another attack from the Trump administration against state and local laws that enact across-the-board limits on civil arrests in sensitive locations like schools, churches, hospitals, and courthouses,” adds Enriquez. “In the future, we should expect to see legal challenges to the federal government's encroachment on state sovereignty. And in the meantime, we should also expect less justice in our local and state courts.”

ICE Quietly Scales Back Rules for Courthouse Raids

President Donald Trump has proposed building a massive antimissile system in space that could enrich Elon Musk if it materializes. But experts say the project’s feasibility remains unclear.

During A Press conference in the Oval Office late last month, US President Donald Trump doubled down on his plan to build a massive new missile defense system, largely based in space, he is calling the “Golden Dome.” In recent weeks, defense companies have begun vying for anticipated government contracts tied to the project, and three firms with deep connections to the White House—SpaceX, Palantir, and Anduril—have been named as purported front-runners.

Trump ordered plans to be drawn up for the Golden Dome within days of returning to office in January, and he said in May that it would be operational by the end of his term in January 2029. But behind the scenes over the past few months, competing defense companies and industry experts have told WIRED the future of the project isn’t certain.

They say it’s unclear whether the missile shield could be constructed in space the way Trump wants and how many contracts will ultimately be awarded. Trump recently claimed that he had selected a $175 billion design for the shield, but some experts expect the cost to be far greater, and they question how it will be paid for.

Although it has been compared to Israel’s Iron Dome missile defense system, some sources noted that a project of the Golden Dome’s size and scope has never been built before. “The Manhattan Project element of this is just simply the scale,” says John Clark, senior vice president of technology and strategic innovation at Lockheed Martin. “The technologies exist. The integration strategies we've demonstrated, they are available. It's really, how do you scale this?"

Trump said on May 20 that he had chosen Space Force general Michael Guetlein as a “lead program manager” for the Golden Dome. But Clark says that a number of different branches of the US military and federal government have been “providing feedback and insight” as part of the planning process, including a specialized group inside the Department of Defense called the Missile Defense Agency, as well as the Space Force, Space Development Agency, the Army, the Navy, and the Air Force. It’s unclear how many of them will ultimately remain involved.

“What I am seeing and hearing in our conversations is that each agency is still trying to understand where they fit into this really broad mission and architecture,” says Susanne Hake, general manager of US government business at the geospatial intelligence firm Maxar.

Mark Montgomery, executive director of the Cyberspace Solarium Commission, a government body that advises US policymakers on cyber- and space-based threats, believes that SpaceX is almost certainly going to play a major role in the initiative because of its existing dominance in the commercial space launch sector.

“The only thing I'd say is consistent, and almost definitely true, is SpaceX is going to be part of the launch cycle,” says Montgomery, who says it “would be criminal” to pick winners and losers this early in the process.

In mid-April, CEO Elon Musk said publicly that SpaceX “has not tried to bid for any contract” tied to the Golden Dome project. (It’s not possible at this stage for firms to make formal bids.) He added that he hopes “other companies” can work on it instead.

Musk did not respond to a request for comment asking what role he may have played in SpaceX’s work related to the Golden Dome.

Clark says that Lockheed Martin is having early-stage conversations with SpaceX, Palantir, and Anduril, as well as many other companies that it could eventually enter into partnerships with to work on the Golden Dome. “Candidly, I think it's a little premature to lock in on a team when you don't know exactly what the requirements are,” he tells WIRED.

Hake says that Maxar is also in early talks with other firms. She argues that Maxar’s products—such as imaging technology that can detect objects in low Earth orbit—are “pretty differentiated” from anything that SpaceX, Palantir, or Anduril have, meaning Maxar wouldn’t be in direct competition with them.

Clark says that Lockheed Martin has proposed an approach for the Golden Dome that involves building out the existing US missile defense system regionally, then nationally. The current system already includes many components from Lockheed Martin, including land- and sea-based antimissile systems, as well as a long-range radar for detecting missiles.

“Right now, that system has been attributed to ensuring, you know, zero US fatalities,” Clark says.

Anduril declined to comment. The US Department of Defense, SpaceX, and Palantir did not respond to requests for comment from WIRED.

**Why Upgrade?**

When Trump initially demanded the creation of a “next-generation” missile defense system in January, he referred to the project as the "Iron Dome Missile Defense Shield." It was later rebranded as a “Golden Dome for America,” according to a request for information published in April by the Missile Defense Agency.

An earlier February notice asked private companies to detail technological capabilities they possess that could help make the Golden Dome happen, including artificial intelligence and building space-based missile interceptors. It also outlined a laundry list of bells and whistles the Trump administration wants the shield to have, such as space-based sensors (for defending against hypersonic and ballistic missiles), a large satellite system for encrypted communications across the US military, and new weapons for striking down missiles both before and after they launch.

The existing system the US uses to protect itself from missiles and nuclear warheads relies on a constellation of radar sensors and launchpads equipped with antimissile ballistics stationed on US Navy ships and military vehicles around the world. It has the capability to detect when other countries launch missiles, track their paths, and intercept the weapons without detonating them. But many experts worry it’s woefully inadequate and can’t fully protect the US from the nation’s most pressing national security threats.

“We just kind of wished away the problem,” says Montgomery.

While the US military has spent lavishly on missile defense over the past few decades, it has “little to show” for it, argues a recently revised report published by the Panel on Public Affairs of the American Physical Society, a nonprofit that researches physics and other scientific issues.

The authors, who noted that US funding for missile defense typically only increases in response to things like “presidential advocacy,” concluded that America’s current system couldn’t reliably take down missiles and warheads from North Korea, let alone attacks from more sophisticated actors.

Montgomery tells WIRED that the US should be particularly concerned about advanced long-range ballistic and hypersonic missiles from China, Russia, and Iran.

**Going to Space**

Laura Grego, a senior research director at the Union of Concerned Scientists and a coauthor of the report, says she gets why the Trump administration wants the ability to launch missile interceptors from space.

Interceptors launched from land sites may have to travel hundreds of miles horizontally, while an interceptor in space needs to travel only a short distance to reach a missile and stop it in its tracks. “Most people's intuition is that space is far away,” Grego says. “But in this case, space is close. Space is about as close as you can get.”

Grego adds that the idea of building a futuristic antimissile system in the sky has preoccupied American leaders on and off for decades. President Ronald Reagan proposed a similar plan in the early 1980s nicknamed the “Star Wars” program by critics, which consisted of a space-based laser system to shoot down ballistics. While the kinds of technologies Reagan proposed using weren’t feasible at the time, they are now, Grego says.

Montgomery says that the US government will likely need to choose between building a new space-based system or building up its land-based system, because it would simply be too expensive to do both. “If you go down that second path of legacy systems now, you'll inevitably come up short on your space-based funding later,” he says.

But Grego says she believes that a space-based missile interceptor system would be highly vulnerable and impractical, because it requires using missile interceptors carried aboard satellites. Since the satellites would be constantly moving relative to the Earth's surface, the US would need an astronomical amount of interceptors to offer full protection.

Grego says that it only works when it's totally complete. “If you're able to pick apart that constellation and punch holes in it by using anti-satellite weapons or other types of attacks to the system, that whole thing basically becomes useless,” she explains.

Grego adds that a space-based interceptor system would likely cost trillions of dollars between building, launching, and replacing the interceptors—even considering the fact that new technology developed by SpaceX has helped push down the cost of satellite launches considerably in recent years. Satellites circling the earth in low Earth orbit also fall into the atmosphere and burn up after about three to five years, meaning components will need to be replaced regularly.

Trump dismissed concerns about how much the system will cost when asked about it by reporters last month. “We took in $5.1 trillion in the last four days in the Middle East, and when you think about it, this is a tiny fraction of that,” he said. (Prior reports pegged the deals to be worth more than $1 trillion, though the final amount remains unclear, and none of the deals are explicitly related to the Golden Dome.)

Montgomery says that cost isn’t necessarily a reason to rule out a space-based missile defense system entirely. “I’d spend as little as possible on legacy ground-based interceptors, because I think there's limited return in them over time,” he says. “They're expensive, and they're configured for yesterday's threat, and maybe today's threat, but probably not tomorrow's threat.”

The greatest danger of any version of the Golden Dome, Grego says, is that it could spark an arms race. Russia and China will likely view the missile defense system as a threat, because if the US becomes effectively immune to missile attacks, those countries fear American forces could act without fear of retaliation.

To counter this, Grego says, Russia and China may respond by building more offensive missiles to overwhelm or bypass American defenses, ultimately fueling an “unstable” cycle of escalation. “If your adversary builds up defenses so that they're immune, they're no longer vulnerable to you, then you have to do something,” she says.

When asked about concerns about the risk of an arms race at a press conference in May, Trump simply said, “Well, they’re wrong,” adding that the Golden Dome will be “about as close to perfect as you can have.”

The Race to Build Trump’s ‘Golden Dome’ Missile Defense System Is On

The easy access that scammers have to sophisticated AI tools means everything from emails to video calls can’t be trusted.

Imagine you meet someone new. Be it on a dating app or social media, you chance across each other online and get to talking. They’re genuine and relatable, so you quickly take it out of the DMs to a platform like Telegram or WhatsApp. You exchange photos and even video call each over. You start to get comfortable. Then, suddenly, they bring up money.

They need you to cover the cost of their Wi-Fi access, maybe. Or they’re trying out this new cryptocurrency. You should really get in on it early! And then, only after it’s too late, you realize that the person you were talking to was in fact not real at all.

They were a real-time AI-generated deepfake hiding the face of someone running a scam.

This scenario might sound too dystopian or science-fictional to be true, but it has happened to countless people already. With the spike in the capabilities of generative AI over the past few years, scammers can now create realistic fake faces and voices to mask their own in real time. And experts warn that those deepfakes can supercharge a dizzying variety of online scams, from romance to employment to tax fraud.

David Maimon, the head of fraud insights at identity verification firm SentiLink and a professor of criminology at Georgia State University, has been tracking the evolution of AI romance scams and other kinds of AI fraud for the past six years. “We’re seeing a dramatic increase in the volume of deepfakes, especially in comparison to 2023 and 2024,” Maimon says.

“It wasn’t a whole lot. We’re talking about maybe four or five a month,” he says. “Now, we’re seeing hundreds of these on a monthly basis across the board, which is mind-boggling.”

Deepfakes are already being used in a variety of online scams. One finance worker in Hong Kong, for example, paid $25 million to a scammer posing as the company’s chief financial officer in a deepfaked video call. Some deepfake scammers have even posted instructional videos on YouTube, which have a disclaimer as being for “pranks and educational purposes only.” Those videos usually open with a romance scam call, where an AI-generated handsome young man is talking to an older woman.

More traditional deepfakes—such as a pre-rendered video of a celebrity or politician, rather than a live fake—have also become more prevalent. Last year, a retiree in New Zealand lost around $133,000 to a cryptocurrency investment scam after seeing a Facebook advertisement featuring a deepfake of the country’s prime minister encouraging people to buy in.

Maimon says SentiLink has started to see deepfakes used to create bank accounts in order to lease an apartment or engage in tax refund fraud. He says an increasing number of companies have also seen deepfakes in video job interviews.

“ Anything that requires folks to be online and which supports the opportunity of swapping faces with someone—that will be available and open for fraud to take advantage of,” Maimon says.

Part of the reason for this increase is that the barriers for creating deepfakes are getting lower. There are a lot of easily accessible AI tools that can generate realistic faces and a lot of tools that can animate those faces or create full-length videos out of them. Scammers often use images and videos of real people, deepfaked to slightly change their faces or alter what they’re saying, to target their loved ones or hijack their public influence.

Matt Groh, a professor of management at Northwestern University who researches people’s ability to detect deepfakes, says that point-and-click generative AI tools make it much easier to make small, believable changes to already-existing media.

“If there’s an image of you on the internet, that would be enough to manipulate a face to look like it’s saying something that you haven’t said before or doing something you haven’t done before,” Groh says.

It’s not just fake video that you need to be worried about. With a few clips of audio, it’s also possible to make a believable copy of somebody’s voice. One study in 2023 found that humans failed to detect deepfake audio over a quarter of the time.

“ Just a single image and five seconds of audio online mean that it’s definitely possible for a scammer to make some kind of realistic deepfake of you,” Groh says.

Deepfakes are becoming more pervasive in contexts other than outright scams. Social media has been flooded over the past year with AI-generated “influencers” stealing content from adult creators by deepfaking new faces onto their bodies and monetizing the resulting videos. Deepfakes have even bled over into geopolitics, like when the mayors of multiple European capital cities held video calls with a fake version of the mayor of Kyiv, Ukraine. People have started using deepfakes for personal reasons, like bringing back a dead relative or creating an avatar of a victim to testify in court.

So, if deepfakes are everywhere, how do you spot one? The answer is not technology. A number of technology companies, including OpenAI, have launched deepfake detection tools. Researchers have also proposed mechanisms to detect deepfakes based on things like light reflected in a person’s eyes or inconsistent facial movements, and have started investigating how to implement them in real time.

But those models often cannot reliably detect different kinds of AI fakes. OpenAI’s model, for example, is specifically designed only to report content generated with the company’s own Dall-E 3 tool but not other image generation models.

There’s also the risk that scammers can abuse AI detectors by repeatedly tweaking their content until it fools the software.

“ The major thing we have to understand is that the technology we have right now is not good enough to detect those deepfakes,” Maimon says. “ We’re still very much behind.”

For now, as video deepfakes get more popular, the best way to detect one relies on humans. Studies on deepfake detection show that people are best at distinguishing whether videos are real or fake, as opposed to just audio or text content, and are in some cases even better than leading detection models.

Groh’s team conducted one study which found that taking more time to determine whether an image was real or fake led to a significant increase in accuracy, by up to eight percentage points for just 10 seconds of viewing time.

“ This sounds almost so simple,” Groh says. “But if you spend just a couple extra seconds, that leads to way higher rates of being able to distinguish an image as real or fake. One of the ways for any regular person to just be a little bit less susceptible to a scam is to ask, ‘Does this look actually real?’ And if you just do that for a few extra seconds, we’re all going to be a little bit better off.”

Deepfakes’ popularity could be a double-edged sword for scammers, Groh says. The more widespread they are, the more people will be familiar with them and know what to look for.

That familiarity has paid off in some cases. Last summer, a Ferrari executive received a call from someone claiming to be the CEO of the company. The person convincingly emulated the CEO’s voice but abruptly hung up the call when the executive tried to verify their identity by asking what book the CEO had recommended just days earlier. The CEO of WPP, the world’s biggest advertising agency, was also unsuccessfully targeted by a similar deepfake scam.

“I think there’s a balancing act going on,” Groh says. “ We definitely have technology today that is generally hard for people to identify. But at the same time, once you know that there’s a point-and-click tool that allows you to transform one element into something else, everyone becomes a lot more skeptical.”

Deepfake Scams Are Distorting Reality Itself

A quantum computer will likely one day be able to break the encryption protecting the world's secrets. See how much faster such a machine could decrypt a password compared to a present-day supercomputer.

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