The machines ran at maximum profit because the criminals bore none of the overhead
No coração de uma favela no norte do Rio de Janeiro, a linha entre o crime organizado e a economia digital se cruzou de forma reveladora: policiais descobriram que o Comando Vermelho havia transformado um galpão em uma central de mineração de criptomoedas, gerando dezenas de milhares de reais por mês para financiar o tráfico de drogas. O episódio não é apenas uma história de crime tecnológico — é um reflexo de como organizações criminosas adaptam ferramentas do mundo moderno para perpetuar formas antigas de dominação e violência. A investigação continua, e com ela a pergunta mais ampla: até onde o crime consegue se reinventar antes que a lei o alcance?
- 32 computadores de alto desempenho funcionavam ininterruptamente em um imóvel do Complexo do Lins, gerando entre R$40 mil e R$50 mil mensais para o Comando Vermelho.
- A operação explorava energia elétrica e internet desviadas ilegalmente, eliminando os custos que tornam a mineração inviável para operadores legítimos e maximizando o lucro criminoso.
- A delegada Luciana Fonseca e sua equipe identificaram imediatamente que a legalidade técnica da mineração era irrelevante diante do contexto: a estrutura servia integralmente a uma organização criminosa.
- Investigadores suspeitam que o esquema também funcionava como mecanismo de lavagem de dinheiro, usando a opacidade das criptomoedas para obscurecer a origem de recursos ilícitos.
- A infraestrutura física foi desmantelada, mas a investigação permanece aberta — buscando entender a duração do esquema, o volume total movimentado e a possível existência de operações semelhantes em outras partes da cidade.
Em um galpão no norte do Rio, policiais encontraram algo inesperado: dezenas de computadores funcionando continuamente, todos conectados à rede elétrica por meio de ligações clandestinas. Era uma central de mineração de criptomoedas operada pelo Comando Vermelho — uma das organizações criminosas mais poderosas da cidade — projetada para gerar entre R$40 mil e R$50 mil por mês, dinheiro destinado a financiar o tráfico de drogas.
O que tornava a operação especialmente lucrativa era sua engenharia de custos: energia elétrica e internet eram obtidas ilegalmente, eliminando as despesas que normalmente tornam a mineração de pequena escala economicamente inviável. O gang controlava o território, e esse controle se traduzia em lucro puro — 32 máquinas de alto desempenho rodando sem nenhum custo operacional legítimo.
A delegada Luciana Fonseca, responsável pela investigação, reconheceu de imediato a natureza do esquema. Minerar criptomoedas não é ilegal — mas fazê-lo dentro da estrutura de uma organização criminosa, a serviço dela, transforma a atividade em crime. Além disso, as autoridades investigam se a operação também servia para lavar dinheiro já obtido pelo tráfico, aproveitando a opacidade das moedas digitais para apagar rastros financeiros.
Os equipamentos foram apreendidos e as conexões clandestinas, cortadas. Mas a investigação segue: quanto tempo durou o esquema, quanto dinheiro circulou por ele e se existem operações semelhantes em outros pontos da cidade são perguntas ainda sem resposta. O que a operação deixou claro é que o crime organizado no Rio encontrou uma nova ferramenta — e que as forças de segurança precisarão acompanhar essa evolução.
In a favela on Rio's north side, police officers walked into a warehouse humming with the sound of dozens of computers running around the clock. What they found was a fully operational cryptocurrency mining center, built and run by members of Comando Vermelho, one of the city's most powerful criminal organizations. The operation was simple in concept but sophisticated in execution: convert digital currency into cash, then funnel that money back into the drug trade.
The setup occupied a single property and contained 32 high-performance machines, all wired into the electrical grid through improvised connections. These computers were doing what cryptocurrency miners do everywhere—processing and validating blockchain transactions, earning digital coins as payment for their computational work. But this wasn't a legitimate tech startup. It was a criminal enterprise designed to generate between 40,000 and 50,000 reais each month, money that would strengthen the gang's grip on the community and finance its trafficking operations.
What made this operation particularly valuable to the organization was its ability to sidestep the normal costs that make cryptocurrency mining economically fragile. Mining requires enormous amounts of electricity and reliable internet access—expenses that typically eat into profits and make small-scale operations unviable. Comando Vermelho had solved that problem by simply not paying for either. The gang controlled the territory. The power was stolen. The internet was diverted. The machines ran at maximum profit because the criminals bore none of the legitimate overhead.
Police investigators, led by delegate Luciana Fonseca, understood immediately what they were looking at. Mining itself is not illegal. But the context was everything. The operation existed inside a criminal organization's infrastructure, serving a criminal organization's needs. The seized equipment represented a new revenue stream for traffickers—one that was harder to trace than a drug deal, one that could be explained away as a legitimate business if questioned, one that generated steady cash.
There was another possibility the police were investigating: that the mining operation functioned as a money laundering apparatus. Digital currency has long attracted criminals for this reason—it can obscure the origins of illicit funds, making it harder for authorities to connect cash to its source. If Comando Vermelho was using the mining center not just to generate new money but to clean money already earned through trafficking and violence, the operation became even more valuable and more dangerous.
The raid dismantled the physical infrastructure. The 32 machines were seized. The electricity taps were cut. But the investigation was far from over. Police were still working to understand the full scope of the scheme—how long it had been running, how much money had actually flowed through it, whether other operations like it existed elsewhere in the city. What was certain was that organized crime in Rio had found a new tool, and law enforcement would need to adapt accordingly.
Citações Notáveis
This type of operation requires high investments and significant expenses, especially with electricity, which usually makes the business unviable at small scale— Delegate Luciana Fonseca, Rio Civil Police
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why would a gang bother with cryptocurrency mining when they already make money from drugs?
Because mining is steady and scalable in ways trafficking isn't. A drug deal happens once. A mining rig runs 24 hours a day, every day, generating revenue without the same arrest risk.
But doesn't cryptocurrency leave a digital trail?
It can, but that's where the money laundering angle matters. If you convert the coins to cash quickly and mix it with other money, the trail gets much harder to follow.
The police said the gang wasn't paying for electricity or internet. How does that even work?
They control the territory. They can tap into power lines, divert internet cables, do whatever they want without anyone stopping them. That's what territorial control actually means in a favela.
Is this operation unique to Rio?
No. Organized crime groups in other countries have done this too. But it's relatively new in Brazil, which is why it caught police attention. They're still figuring out how to investigate it.
What happens to the cryptocurrency the machines generated before the raid?
That's the question. If the gang converted it to cash and spent it, it's gone. If they still hold it in digital wallets, police might be able to trace and seize it. But cryptocurrency wallets can be hidden, moved, transferred. It's not like finding cash in a safe.