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On a recent evening in March, Bohdan Tymchenko, a quiet and unassuming man from Bucha, logged on to his computer to play the popular video game World of Tanks. Less than two weeks later, he planted two bombs outside his flat.

What unfolded in the intervening days offers a stark glimpse into a growing pattern: Ukrainians drawn in online by Russian intelligence services, promised money or coerced into carrying out sabotage attacks against their own country.

That the bombing occurred in Bucha – a leafy town on the outskirts of Kyiv that has become synonymous with the brutality of Russia’s invasion – has only deepened the shock.

Ukrainian investigators believe Tymchenko, 21, who lived with his grandmother in a five-storey apartment block, was first approached by a Russian handler in the video game’s online chat. The suspected agent then guided him on the messaging app Telegram, step by step, instructing him how to source materials, assemble the devices in his flat and carry out the attack. Tymchenko was promised $1,200 (£900) in return.

The explosions, in the early hours of the morning, had the hallmarks of a double-tap attack. An initial blast outside the building at about 5.30am was followed by a second device detonating nearly two hours later, injuring two officers after police had arrived.

“It’s a stab in the back. It doesn’t really get worse than one of your own citizens doing this,” said Dmytro Prokudin, the head of the Kyiv regional prosecutor’s office. “And we are seeing this more and more.”

Ukraine’s security service, the SBU, has identified more than 800 Ukrainians, including at least 240 minors, recruited by Russia over the past two years with targets ranging from critical infrastructure to draft offices. The goal, officials say, is to spread uncertainty, fear and distrust.

For residents of the apartment block in Bucha, the idea that the threat could come from within has been deeply unsettling. “I simply don’t understand how this could happen here, done by someone you see every day,” said Inna, a pensioner who lives next door to Tymchenko.

Inna survived the town’s brief Russian occupation in the spring of 2022 but lost friends. More than 400 bodies were discovered after the town’s liberation, including civilians with their hands bound.

“Russia wants to make us feel unsafe and create chaos, after everything we have already been through,” Inna said. Like others, she initially assumed the first explosion was the result of a Russian drone or missile strike, only to be left confused when there had been no air raid alert.

Another resident said she had noticed two large black rubbish bags near the entrance while walking her dog late that night, hours before the blasts, but thought nothing of it. “How could I imagine they were bombs? It didn’t even cross my mind,” she said, stroking her chihuahua.

Some in Bucha believed they had seen the suspect lurking behind trees during the blasts, detonating the devices from up close. Investigators are looking into the reports.

There had been no obvious warning signs about Tymchenko, people in Bucha said. He was described as shy, largely keeping to himself and spending much of his time at home, unemployed.

What makes the case even more puzzling for prosecutors is that Tymchenko came from a military family. His brother was killed fighting for Ukraine and posthumously awarded a medal for bravery, while his mother continues to serve as a medic in the armed forces.

“We are still trying to establish his motive and whether he was specifically targeted because of his background or simply approached at random,” said Prokudin. In most cases, Ukrainian officials believe, Russian handlers cast a wide net online, probing potential recruits in casual conversations before escalating contact.

“The recruiter logs in, starts chatting and, after a few questions, quickly understands whether a person is willing to cooperate. That’s the playbook,” said Prokudin, adding that money was usually the main motivator.

At other times, Ukrainian relatives living in Russian-occupied territories are used to exert pressure on recruits. The convoluted nature of the recruitment scheme, involving multiple intermediaries and Telegram handlers, makes it difficult to trace and identify.

“There are clearly large numbers of Russians working on sabotage operations inside our country, identifying and exploiting weak links,” Prokudin said.

Appearing in court last month, Tymchenko said he had been blackmailed, claiming his handler told him they knew his mother’s whereabouts and could “see her from a drone”.

Investigators believe his original plan may have been disrupted. On the evening before the explosion, a woman called police to report a domestic incident at the flat. Officers grew suspicious after tracing the call to a distant region.

Fake calls have been used across the country to lure first responders into traps, creating a climate of distrust. “The initial idea appears to have been to lure police to the scene and detonate the first device before setting off a second one when back up would arrive,” the prosecutor said.

Prokudin described how police were recently called after a woman reported that her husband had killed their daughter and taken his own life. Officers hesitated to enter, even though the report was real. “We are being called to inspect what sounds like a domestic tragedy, but we cannot be sure whether it is real or a setup. This is exactly Russia’s goal,” he said.

Russia’s use of proxies in Ukraine, western officials say, should be seen as part of a broader pattern. Across Europe, intelligence agencies have been grappling with a wave of Russian sabotage, arson and disinformation, often carried out by individuals recruited online.

“Moscow’s sabotage activities in Ukraine mirror what we are seeing elsewhere in Europe,” said a senior European intelligence officer, speaking on condition of anonymity. “They use the same tactics, the same methods, the same platforms. Ukraine is often the testing ground.”