Netflix’s latest drama Legends offers a compelling window into the criminology of undercover policing, covert surveillance and organised crime.
Inspired by a real UK customs investigation, the six-part drama follows ordinary British customs officers sent deep undercover to infiltrate drug trafficking gangs.
Written by Neil Forsyth (also creator of Brink’s-Mat robbery drama The Gold), Legends balances tension and realism with a measured, slow-burn pace that prioritises character over spectacle. Steve Coogan plays Don, a former undercover police officer tasked with recruiting customs officers to go undercover themselves to infiltrate drug gangs.
Much of its strength rests on the central performance of Tom Burke, whose portrayal of the lead undercover officer, Guy, anchors the series emotionally. Burke brings a quiet intensity to the role, capturing the unease, vulnerability, and moral ambiguity of someone living between identities.
The supporting cast also does an exceptional job, reinforcing the drama’s grounded and realistic tone, capturing the collective pressure, uncertainty and emotional toll of undercover work.
Becoming a legend
Unlike elite operatives, these are everyday officials thrust into extraordinary criminal worlds, making the series not just gripping television, but a sharp exploration of how undercover work reshapes identity, morality and survival.
The title itself is significant. In undercover policing, a “legend” is the carefully constructed false identity, complete with backstory, relationships, habits and a believable past. These identities must withstand intense scrutiny from criminals, meaning success depends on absolute credibility.
In Legends, officers must abandon their real selves and convincingly live as criminals to gain trust. This demands constant performance, producing intense psychological strain as loyalty to the state clashes with the need to belong within a criminal world.
In criminology, this reflects the concept of identity conflict. Undercover officers must operate simultaneously as agents of the law and participants in deviance. Howard Becker’s labelling theory is particularly relevant here: labels do not simply describe behaviour – they shape it.
To be effective, officers must adopt the identity of the “criminal,” often participating in minor illegality or forming close ties with offenders. As former undercover cop Don explains, “Your legend has to come from you, or it won’t work,” emphasising that a convincing undercover identity cannot simply be performed, it must feel authentic and internally lived to be believable.
Psychological unravelling
The result is moral ambiguity, where the line between observation and complicity becomes increasingly unstable. As seen in Donnie Brasco (1997) and The Departed, (2006) prolonged immersion can erode the boundary between professional duty and personal identity, leading not to control, but fragmentation.
Legends appears to centre on this psychological unravelling. These are not distant professionals but ordinary individuals removed from everyday life, required to deceive family and colleagues while facing the constant threat of exposure. This is particularly evident with Guy, who appears increasingly weighed down by the demands of sustaining his legend.
Even in controlled situations, there is a sense of constant vigilance in his interactions – carefully measured responses, restrained body language, and an underlying tension that suggests the effort required to remain convincing. At the same time, brief glimpses of his life beyond the operation hint at growing emotional distance, reinforcing how the undercover role begins to dominate his identity.
Criminologists describe this as role contamination, where it stops being a performance and begins to reshape the real self. The deeper the infiltration, the harder it becomes to return.
The criminal world they enter is equally significant. The series focuses on drug gangs, which links directly to organised crime theory. Drug trafficking organisations are not chaotic groups of offenders, but structured systems with hierarchies, codes of loyalty and mechanisms of control. Trust is currency; betrayal is often fatal.
For undercover officers, success depends on understanding not just who controls the drugs, but who controls fear, respect and power. This aligns with criminal enterprise theory, which argues that organised crime emerges in response to market demand.
Drug trafficking persists because prohibition generates profitable black markets, and criminal groups operate much like businesses within them. In this sense, Legends is not simply about crime, but about parallel economies embedded within society – where criminals may wield more immediate authority than the state.
Netflix
In many communities, organised crime groups provide forms of protection, employment and dispute resolution where trust in formal institutions is weak. Drug gangs can become alternative authorities. For undercover officers, this makes infiltration even more complex because they must navigate a world where legitimacy is not automatically attached to the police or the government.
Instead, loyalty may belong to the gang leader who provides security or income. As it goes on, Legends is likely to show how dangerous this balance becomes when officers must earn trust in a system built on suspicion.
Legends also raises pressing ethical questions. Undercover policing relies on deception, manipulation and at times emotional exploitation. Officers may form relationships with people who are unaware they are being investigated, blurring the boundaries of acceptable state power.
If the law depends on deception to enforce itself, where should the limits lie? As films like Sicario (2015) suggest, the pursuit of justice can itself become morally compromised. Legends will probably explore this moral uncertainty, showing that successful infiltration often comes at a personal and ethical cost.
Ultimately, Legends is far more than a crime drama about drug gangs. It is a study of how states confront organised crime by constructing false identities and sending ordinary people into extraordinary danger.
This makes Legends not only compelling television, but also a valuable exploration of policing, identity, organised crime, and the hidden moral costs of state power.
