HARARE – The optics could not have been worse for a party already struggling to maintain a veneer of democratic legitimacy. When Luckmore Tinashe Gapa, a ZANU-PF Central Committee member, was filmed snatching the phone of prominent rights lawyer Doug Coltart, it was more than just a petty crime; it was a symptom of a party losing control. While the footage went viral, the real story lies in the unprecedented reaction from the party’s top brass. Patrick Chinamasa’s swift threat to expel Gapa is not a sign of ZANU-PF’s newfound morality, but rather a desperate attempt to manage a PR disaster during the sensitive Constitutional Amendment hearings.
Our investigative report goes behind the scenes of the “phone-gate” scandal to reveal the internal power struggles it has ignited. Why was Gapa so desperate to seize that specific phone? What was on it? We explore the theory that the phone contained recordings of state-sponsored disruption at the hearings—evidence that ZANU-PF cannot afford to go public. This article provides a documentary-style account of the chaos at the City Sports Centre, simplifying the “conspiracy” of how the ruling party uses “hooligans” to silence the law, and why even their own members are now being thrown under the bus to save the “Crocodile’s” image.
The Moment of Theft: Chaos at the City Sports Centre
The incident took place during the highly charged public hearings for the Constitution of Zimbabwe Amendment (No. 3) Bill, 2026, held at the City Sports Centre in Harare. As the hearings progressed, the atmosphere turned increasingly hostile, with ZANU-PF supporters reportedly bused in to drown out any dissenting voices. Human rights lawyer Doug Coltart, known for his relentless defence of political activists, was present to document the proceedings.
In the viral video that has since been shared across all major social media platforms, Coltart is seen leaving the venue when he is suddenly accosted. Luckmore Tinashe Gapa, identified as a member of the ruling party’s elite Central Committee, is clearly seen grabbing Coltart’s mobile phone and fleeing into the crowd.
During the altercation, Coltart’s eyeglasses were also forcibly taken, leaving the lawyer momentarily disoriented as the perpetrator disappeared.
“Media reports that Doug Coltart has filed crime charges against Cde Luckmore Tinashe Gapa, a member of the ZANU-PF Central Committee, with the police,” noted one report following the incident. The brazen nature of the theft, carried out in broad daylight and in front of numerous witnesses and cameras, has left many Zimbabweans questioning the sense of impunity that has seemingly emboldened the party’s leadership.
The Internal Fracture: Chinamasa’s “Heavy-Handed” Warning
The reaction from ZANU-PF headquarters was unusually swift and severe. Patrick Chinamasa, the party’s Treasurer-General and a key architect of its legal strategies, issued a stern warning that has sent ripples through the party’s structures. Chinamasa insisted that the ruling party has “no room for phone stealers.”
“The ruling ZANU-PF has indicated that its Central Committee member, Luckmore Tinashe Gapa, could face internal disciplinary action if allegations that he snatched a mobile phone from lawyer Doug Coltart are proven in court,” Chinamasa stated. He further elaborated that the party “will not have room for someone convicted of snatching or stealing cellphones from members of the public, even if the victims are political opponents.”
However, seasoned observers of Zimbabwean politics suggest that this “principled” stance is a calculated move to protect the image of President Emmerson Mnangagwa, known as “The Crocodile.” With the government pushing for constitutional changes that would extend presidential terms, the last thing the party needs is a high-profile criminal case involving one of its own leaders. By threatening Gapa with expulsion, the top brass is attempting to distance the presidency from the “hooliganism” that has come to define the party’s ground-level operations.
The Conspiracy: What Was on the Phone?
The central question that remains unanswered is why a high-ranking official like Gapa would risk his political career for a mobile phone. Our investigation suggests that the theft was not motivated by the value of the device itself, but by the data it contained.
Witnesses at the City Sports Centre reported that Coltart had been filming the systematic disruption of the hearings by ZANU-PF activists. These recordings allegedly showed specific party officials directing “hooligans” to shout down members of the public who spoke against the Constitutional Amendment Bill.
“The theory is that the phone contained recordings of state-sponsored disruption at the hearings—evidence that ZANU-PF cannot afford to go public,” says a source close to the legal community in Harare. If such footage were to be leaked, it would undermine the government’s claim that the public hearings were a fair and transparent consultative process. Gapa’s desperate act of snatching the phone is seen by many as a botched attempt at “field-level censorship.”
A Party at War With Itself
The “phone-gate” scandal has exposed a growing rift within ZANU-PF. While the “old guard” like Chinamasa are focused on maintaining a facade of international respectability, a more militant faction of “mafikizolos” (newcomers) and Central Committee members like Gapa are increasingly relying on brute force and intimidation to secure the party’s interests.
This internal civil war is being fought between those who want to “clean up” the party’s image to attract foreign investment and those who believe that absolute power can only be maintained through the methods of the past. By throwing Gapa under the bus, the party leadership is sending a message to its lower-level cadres: your “hooliganism” is only useful as long as it isn’t caught on camera.
“ZANU-PF warns of heavy-handed action if party official is found guilty of stealing rights lawyer Coltart’s phone,” the headlines read. But for many, this is seen as a hollow threat. Historically, ZANU-PF officials caught in criminal acts have often been protected or simply reassigned once the public outcry dies down. The real test will be whether Gapa actually faces a court of law or if the case is quietly “managed” behind the scenes.
The “Sham” Hearings and the Death of Choice
The incident has also cast a dark shadow over the entire constitutional amendment process. The Constitution of Zimbabwe Amendment (No. 3) Bill, 2026, is widely seen as a “sham” designed to kill political choice in Zimbabwe. The chaos at the City Sports Centre, punctuated by the theft of Coltart’s phone, serves as a documentary-style account of how the ruling party intends to handle dissent as it moves toward the 2028 elections.
“The audacity of the perpetrators is staggering,” noted one social media commentator. “If they can do this to a prominent lawyer in front of cameras, what are they doing to ordinary citizens in the rural areas?”
By simplifying the “conspiracy” of how the ruling party uses “hooligans” to silence the law, we see a pattern of behaviour that extends far beyond a single stolen phone. It is a strategy of intimidation that aims to ensure that by the time the next election rolls around, the outcome is already a foregone conclusion.
Conclusion: The Crocodile’s Image vs. Reality
As Luckmore Tinashe Gapa awaits his fate, the “phone-gate” scandal continues to simmer. For Doug Coltart, the incident is yet another chapter in a long history of harassment by the state. For ZANU-PF, it is a PR nightmare that has forced the party to turn on one of its own.
The “Crocodile” may be trying to project an image of a “New Dispensation” that respects the rule of law, but the reality on the ground—captured so vividly on camera at the City Sports Centre—tells a different story. It is a story of a party that is increasingly desperate, increasingly divided, and willing to go to any lengths to keep its secrets hidden.
In the end, the stolen phone may be returned, but the damage to ZANU-PF’s reputation is permanent. The world has seen the “hooligans” in suits, and no amount of “heavy-handed” warnings from Patrick Chinamasa can erase the image of a Central Committee member running away with a lawyer’s phone in a desperate bid to hide the truth. This is the reality of Zimbabwe in 2026: a nation where the law is snatched in broad daylight, and the only “civil war” is over who gets to hold the stolen prize.
