Behind the quiet doors of Britain’s private investigation firms lies a world that answers to almost no one.
No licence, little oversight and no meaningful barrier to entry — just a website, a phone number and the promise to uncover what others cannot. It is a profession that trades in secrets while operating largely without scrutiny, its credibility often resting more on presentation than proof.
Amid the murk, Tony Imossi has spent decades trying to bring order. An investigator since 1981, he has built a career specialising in fraud and litigation support and has provided evidence to the Leveson Inquiry. Now head of the secretariat at the Association of British Investigators (ABI), he is leading efforts to professionalise a sector that still relies more on trust than law.
The ABI’s vetting process is one of the few formal checks in place. Applicants are interviewed, assessed and monitored before they can call themselves members. Complaints are investigated and sanctions range from formal warnings to expulsion. Most investigators, Imossi explained, are conscientious and law-abiding, but the absence of regulation allows less careful operators to slip through the cracks.
When things go wrong, the consequences can be severe. Imossi said: “We’ve had people crying down the phone because they’ve been blackmailed by investigators who threatened to expose them”.
“It’s horrific”.
The work of a private investigator has always existed somewhere between curiosity and intrusion. Those in the profession argue it is essential for tracing fraud, finding witnesses and uncovering evidence that police and insurers lack the time or resources to pursue.
But that work also involves handling information few others ever see.
Data protection has become the new frontier. Investigators sift through records, emails, photos, phone logs and open-source data, often without the subject’s knowledge. That is legal only within strict limits.
The former investigator said: “A lot of investigators think if it’s online, it’s fair game”.
“It isn’t. That’s a breach of GDPR”.
In response, the ABI has developed a code of conduct designed to impose order on the chaos. It is the first of its kind in the sector and has been approved by the Information Commissioner’s Office under the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR). The code sets out clear rules on what information can be gathered, how it is stored and who can access it.
It also requires compulsory data-protection training for every new member.
The move marks a milestone, but not a cure-all. The code is voluntary and those operating beyond the ABI’s reach can simply ignore it. Imossi said there is still no sign of formal government oversight, adding: “It’s still the Wild West out there, but we’re trying to bring some law and order to it”.
Elsewhere, the rules are far clearer. Investigators in the United States, Canada, France and much of Europe must hold licences, pass background checks and operate under legally binding codes tied to law enforcement. Even in Australia and New Zealand, investigators are registered and audited.
Britain remains the exception. Plans for statutory regulation were shelved after the Leveson Inquiry and have not been revived.
Public perception presents another obstacle. For many, private investigators are figures drawn from fiction: trench coats, idling cars and dossiers slid across bar tables. The reality is slower, duller and far more digital.
The ABI has been working with the Law Society and other legal bodies to promote its code of conduct as a marker of accountability. It is a modest step, but one that could help distinguish legitimate investigators from opportunists who damage the profession’s reputation.
Ultimately, the issue is one of trust, not only between investigator and client, but also between a secretive industry and the public it serves. The tools may have changed, but the moral question remains the same: how far is too far?
The work may stay hidden, but the effort to clean it up is not.
