Scientists in Brazil have demonstrated that a combination of three non-destructive imaging techniques, visible-spectrum (RGB) photography, X-ray radiography, and three-dimensional magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), can detect and characterize hidden damage in soybean seeds that conventional quality tests frequently miss. The study, published in Smart Agricultural Technology, comes at a critical moment: Brazil is the world’s largest soybean producer and exporter, with an estimated harvest of 166 million tons for the 2024/2025 growing season, and seed quality is increasingly under threat from the very climate extremes that help drive the country’s agricultural productivity.
The research, led by Rafael Mateus Alves and colleagues at institutions including the Seed Technology Center of Embrapa Soybean and the University of São Paulo, was funded by the São Paulo Research Foundation (FAPESP). Its central premise is deceptively simple: because seed quality is largely determined in the field, before harvest even begins, researchers and seed companies need tools that can look inside a seed without killing it. Destructive assays such as the tetrazolium viability test, which stains metabolically active tissue red, are the industry standard, but they end the life of the sample. That is a particular problem for breeding programs, where each seed represents a unique genetic combination that must survive analysis if it is to be planted.
The seed itself is a small miracle of engineering. A protective coat, derived from the ovule integuments and marked by a scar called the hilum, regulates water uptake and shields the embryo within. The embryo contains the plumule, which gives rise to the plant’s first true leaves; the apical meristem, precursor of the aerial plant; and the hypocotyl–radicle axis, which breaks through the soil and forms the primary root. Flanking this axis are the cotyledons, storage organs packed with macromolecules that are metabolized and shipped to the growing axis during germination. Damage to any of these structures, from insects, fungi, drought, heat, or rough handling during harvest, can silently reduce a seed lot’s vigor, the capacity for rapid, uniform germination that underpins successful crop establishment.
To interrogate this architecture non-invasively, the team assembled ten representative seeds from production fields, commercial lots, and storage samples, each embodying a distinct damage category: stink bug injury, purple seed stain caused by fungi, green seeds from incomplete maturation, wrinkled seeds from heat and drought stress, weathering-related coat ruptures, severe structural failure, mechanical harvest damage, and internal galleries bored by the cigarette beetle (Lasioderma serricorne) during storage. Every seed was imaged sequentially with each of the three modalities and then subjected to the tetrazolium test as a qualitative reference standard.
The technical pipeline was meticulously standardized. For visible-light imaging, seeds were mounted on acetate sheets and photographed with a Leica DMLB microscope equipped with a DFC 310FX digital camera, oriented in four standardized positions with the hilum consistently to the right. X-ray radiographs were acquired on a Faxitron MX-20 DC-12 system operating at 34 kilovolts, with a nine-second exposure and an object-to-source distance of 11.4 centimeters; uniform contrast settings were applied to all images to make damaged tissues directly comparable. The MRI work used a horizontal 2 Tesla superconducting magnet coupled to a Bruker Avance III spectrometer operating at 85.24 megahertz for proton nuclei. Before scanning, seeds were conditioned to raise their moisture content from roughly 8–10 percent (wet basis) by incubation on moistened germination paper for three hours at 25 °C, a step that ensured sufficient hydrogen signal for imaging. A three-dimensional FLASH pulse sequence, with a 3-millisecond echo time and 75-millisecond repetition time, collected data on a 128×128×128 matrix over a 12.8-millimeter field of view, yielding isotropic voxels of 100 micrometers per side. Datasets were zero-padded to 256³ before Fourier transformation and rendered in three dimensions using ImageJ with the 3Dscript plugin.
The resulting image galleries are striking. On seeds punctured by stink bugs, the dominant pest of Brazilian soybean fields, RGB images revealed darkened patches on the cotyledons and near the plumule, the visible legacy of insect feeding that lacerates tissue and injects yeasts that degrade it from within. X-ray images flagged zones of reduced radiation absorption in the same darkened regions, while MRI cross-sections exposed the depth of tissue destruction with unusual clarity, precisely because degraded tissue no longer absorbs water and therefore produces no magnetic resonance signal. The tetrazolium test confirmed that these zones lacked respiratory activity, meaning they were metabolically dead.
Not every symptom tells the same story, however, and the multimodal approach proved especially powerful at distinguishing superficial from structural damage. Seeds with purple seed stain, caused by Cercospora fungi that secrete the toxin cercosporin, showed internal structures that appeared entirely normal in both X-ray and MRI. Yet the tetrazolium test produced an unusually intense red coloration at the stained coat, indicating that fungal activity had compromised the seed coat’s ability to regulate water uptake, allowing the staining solution to penetrate more deeply into the embryo. Similarly, green seeds, which retain chlorophyll because heat and drought interrupted maturation, showed no structural anomalies under X-ray or MRI, but their membranes proved unusually permeable to the tetrazolium solution, hinting at the physiological deterioration typical of immature tissue.
Where MRI truly distinguished itself was in detecting damage invisible to every other method. One seed that appeared flawless in visible light and radiographically normal in X-ray images revealed, in its three-dimensional MRI reconstruction, internal ruptures running through the central cotyledons, the likely consequence of rapid, uneven drying that forces differential cellular expansion and eventual tissue collapse. In mechanically damaged seeds, the X-ray images showed a crack in the hypocotyl–radicle axis that the camera could not see, but MRI went further, revealing the full extent of the fissure and the displacement of the axis relative to the cotyledons. The team also documented a dramatic structural failure nicknamed the “popcorn effect,” in which alternating wetting and rapid drying cycles tear the seed coat and force the cotyledons apart, a phenomenon increasingly reported in Brazilian seed lots as late-season weather grows more erratic.
To move beyond qualitative observation, the researchers extracted grayscale histograms from each X-ray image, normalizing pixel frequencies across the full 0–255 intensity range. Two statistical descriptors, mean gray level and Shannon entropy, were then compared across damage categories using one-way ANOVA followed by Tukey’s honest significance test. The analysis yielded clear separation: undamaged seeds showed the narrowest distributions with peaks at high grayscale values, while beetle-infested seeds and wrinkled seeds displayed the broadest distributions with heavy weight in the lower gray ranges, reflecting hollowed-out tissues and sparse, deformed structures. Mean gray level differed significantly across categories, peaking in undamaged seeds and bottoming out in wrinkled ones, while Shannon entropy, a measure of histogram complexity, was highest in beetle-damaged seeds and lowest in healthy ones. Because each damage category produced a characteristic radiographic fingerprint, the authors suggest these histogram metrics could support automated, quantitative screening in commercial seed laboratories.
Each modality, the authors stress, occupies a distinct niche. RGB imaging is fast, cheap, and ideal for surface screening but blind to anything beneath the coat. X-ray radiography, already a mainstay of seed testing labs, reveals internal voids, malformations, and cavities rapidly and non-destructively, though it cannot report on metabolic viability and demands careful standardization. MRI, with its superb soft-tissue contrast and genuine three-dimensional resolution, excels at detecting subtle physiological and structural alterations, latent mechanical injury, hydration-induced ruptures, and moisture redistribution, but its cost and acquisition time currently confine it to research settings. The tetrazolium test remains valuable as a reference but is destructive and subject to interpreter bias.
The authors argue the techniques should be viewed as complementary rather than competing, and they sketch a future in which RGB and X-ray screening handle high-throughput commercial quality control while MRI resolves ambiguous or high-stakes cases, such as breeding lines and seed physiology studies. Advances in imaging hardware, automation, and artificial intelligence-based analysis, they note, could eventually fuse these modalities into scalable phenotyping workflows. For now, the message is clear: in an era when a single season of heat, drought, and hungry insects can undermine an entire seed lot, the ability to see damage in all three dimensions, without sacrificing the seed itself, may prove as transformative for agriculture as it has been for medicine.
Subject of Research: Non-destructive multimodal imaging (RGB, X-ray, and MRI) for detecting abiotic- and biotic-stress-induced damage in soybean seeds
Article Title: When damage goes deep: a multi-technique approach including 3D for soybean seed damage assessment
Article References: Alves, R. M., Teixeira, J. M., Marassi, A. G., Henning, F. A., Umburanas, R. C., Gomes-Junior, F. G., & Tannús, A. (2026). When damage goes deep: a multi-technique approach including 3D for soybean seed damage assessment. Smart Agricultural Technology, 15, Article 102523. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.atech.2026.102523
The US government has been sharing more information about UFOs. That's fueling excitement over the possibility of the president announcing that humans are not alone.
The US government has been sharing more information about UFOs. That's fueling excitement over the possibility of the president announcing that humans are not alone.
Stephen Joseph theatre, Scarborough The playwright explores our relationship with technology, asks if robots have souls and even questions the value of art in this sci-fi courtroom drama
For play number 92, Alan Ayckbourn returns to his preoccupation of exploring where we as a species are heading through a science-fiction lens. He goes back to the future. In The Trial of Romeo Oscar, the playwright famed for his domestic comedies looks to the year 2194 when humans have spread about the galaxy and androids live alongside us. One of them, RSDO83, is on trial for the murder of a teenage girl in his charge.
This is Ayckbourn philosophising about the future of humanity as we sit at an obvious inflection point, asking what this moment in our relationship with technology means and where it will lead us. The questions running through the play are manifold, complex and echo those asked by sci-fi writers for decades: can robots hurt humans? Do they have souls? He is also questioning the value of art and even its purpose.
We have a first play of the forthcoming Tomb Raider remake and speak with its developers. Can they improve on the gameplay without losing what made the 1996 original such a classic?
We join Lara Croft in St Francis’ Folly – inspired by the Unesco-listed monasteries of Meteora in Greece – as the light shines through the cracked ceiling and a flock of bats glide across the vast ruins below. When Lara leaps down to the monastery’s crumbling pillared courtyard, it becomes clear that these screeching, leathery creatures aren’t just set dressing. As they lurch towards her with unpredictable movements, she dispatches the swarm with a flurry of gun fire and panicked punches.
It’s a suitably cinematic reintroduction to our heroine and her very first adventure. Co-developed by longtime Lara custodians Crystal Dynamics and Polish studio Flying Wild Hog, Legacy of Atlantis is a reimagining of the classic 1996 game Tomb Raider, and this familiar cliffside location is now brimming with new life and believable detail. Yet while our reunion gets off to an auspicious start, I have my concerns. It feels like reconnecting with an old friend at the pub, only for them to begin spouting conspiracy theories two pints in.
This week on “Uncanny Valley,” we dig into a former Anthropic researcher’s AI doomsday warning, the latest upgrades from Apple’s event, and the census report that claimed Trump won the 2020 election.
PlayStation 5; Insomniac Games Logan is well realised by Liam McIntyre and some exquisite character art, but there are lapses in narrative and emotional arcs and some of the combat feels like a chore
It was always going to be difficult to follow Spider-Man. Insomniac’s three games based around the web-slinger are masterpieces of superhero wish fulfilment, allowing you to swoop above a depiction of Manhattan alive with graffiti artists, roving journalists and gun-toting gangsters. If anyone should be up to the task, it’s Wolverine. A beloved Marvel stalwart, his life much darker and bloodier than Peter Parker’s, he seems the ideal protagonist for a moody action adventure. Yet somehow this well-made game falls short of its potential.
Set years before the founding of the X-Men, Marvel’s Wolverine sees a disenfranchised Logan falling back in with Sabretooth and Mystique when their mentor Nathaniel Essex is kidnapped by mutant-hating billionaire Bolivar Trask. This archetypal tech bro has a disturbing plan for world domination and the X Team are out to stop him – but there is a secret buried in Wolverine’s past that’s about to cause an eruption. It’s a decent setup, filled with the sort of intrigue, violence and Freudian tension we expect from the X-Men.
Tech mogul calls director Alex Gibney a ‘bitter old man’ who has ‘zero integrity’ in series of posts on X
Elon Musk has issued an angry tirade at the film-maker behind a four-hour documentary about his life and influence, labelling the director, Alex Gibney, a “bitter old man” who has “zero integrity”.
Gibney, who has previously made films about the collapse of Enron, WikiLeaks and Vladimir Putin, premiered his Musk documentary at the Venice film festival this week. He said he believed the world’s richest man was “extremely dangerous”.
Researchers in Brazil have demonstrated that a hybrid advanced oxidation process can transform pharmaceutical-laden wastewater into an effluent that is dramatically safer for plants, earthworms, onion root cells, and beneficial microorganisms, offering a rigorous ecotoxicological case for reusing treated sewage in agriculture. The study, published in Environmental Science and Pollution Research, addresses a long-standing blind spot in water treatment: proving that a chemically “clean” effluent is also biologically compatible.
Conventional wastewater treatment plants were never designed to strip out recalcitrant organic micropollutants such as pharmaceuticals, and trace amounts routinely slip through into receiving waters. Advanced oxidation processes (AOPs) attack these stubborn compounds by generating highly reactive free radicals that fragment contaminant molecules. But chemical degradation alone does not guarantee safety. As contaminants break down, they spawn transformation products (TPs) that can, in some cases, be as toxic as—or more toxic than—the parent compounds. The research team, led by Lucas Gustavo da Costa and Alam Gustavo Trovó of the Federal University of Uberlândia, together with collaborators at the Oswaldo Cruz Institute, set out to answer a deceptively simple question: does measurable chemical removal of micropollutants actually translate into reduced biological harm?
The centerpiece of their work is the H₂O₂/S₂O₈²⁻/UVC process, a hybrid system that combines hydrogen peroxide and persulfate with short-wave ultraviolet C radiation. UVC photons cleave both oxidants simultaneously, generating hydroxyl radicals (HO•) and sulfate radicals (SO₄•⁻) in the same reaction volume. This dual-radical strategy outperforms systems relying on either oxidant alone, or on peroxymonosulfate (HSO₅⁻), which is costlier and demands more energy for activation. The hybrid route also resists interference from inorganic species commonly found in real effluents, making it an economically attractive candidate for deployment at full-scale treatment plants. The process had already been chemically optimized in the team’s earlier work using multivariate mixture design and rotatable central composite design experiments; the new study is its first integrated biological stress test.
The experiments used real municipal effluent from a wastewater treatment plant in Uberlândia, Minas Gerais, sampled after the plant’s final tertiary treatment stage of coagulation-flocculation with ferric chloride and flotation. The effluent was enriched with three pharmaceuticals representing different therapeutic classes: colchicine (COL, an antimitotic agent), nitazoxanide (NTZ, an antiparasitic), and sulfamethoxazole (SMX, a widely detected antibiotic), each at 325 nmol L⁻¹—equivalent to 130, 100, and 82 micrograms per liter, respectively. That concentration was deliberately chosen as high enough for direct HPLC–DAD analysis without preconcentration, yet low enough to be environmentally representative. Treatment was carried out in an amber glass reactor irradiated by two 8-watt UVC mercury lamps emitting at 254 nm, with a measured irradiance of 4.9 W m⁻². Residual oxidants were neutralized with sodium thiosulfate before any biological testing, ensuring that observed effects could not be attributed to leftover peroxide chemistry.
The ecotoxicological battery spanned multiple trophic levels and levels of biological organization. Oxidative stress was assessed in the earthworm Eisenia andrei by measuring malondialdehyde (MDA), a marker of lipid peroxidation, and protein carbonylation, an irreversible oxidative modification of proteins. Phytotoxicity was evaluated using lettuce (Lactuca sativa) seeds and a growth index combining germination rate and root elongation. Cytotoxicity and genotoxicity were quantified in onion (Allium cepa) root meristems through the mitotic index and the frequency of chromosomal and nuclear aberrations—micronuclei, chromosome breaks, stickiness, bridges, and nuclear buds—across 5,000 cells per sample. Finally, growth inhibition was tested in two environmentally relevant microbes: Azospirillum brasilense, a plant growth-promoting bacterium used in soybean cultivation, and Saccharomyces cerevisiae, a yeast that persists in soils and fermentative niches.
The untreated enriched effluent told a worrying story. It exhibited substantial genotoxicity in onion cells—21%, approaching the 24% seen with the positive control, methyl methanesulfonate—and severe phytotoxicity, with lettuce growth indices far below the 80% threshold that signals absence of toxicity. Even the unspiked effluent itself suppressed lettuce growth, achieving a growth index of only 47%, evidence that bioactive compounds survive conventional treatment. In earthworms, individual aqueous solutions of NTZ and SMX raised MDA levels by 37.2% and 23.5% respectively, while the three-compound mixture increased lipid peroxidation by 38.0%, pointing to additive or synergistic oxidative stress mechanisms involving reactive oxygen species and Fenton-type chemistry within cells.
The picture changed decisively after oxidation. Following 10 minutes of UVC-driven treatment—the point at which 80% chemical degradation had been achieved, matching the minimum removal target proposed in the European Union’s COM(2022)541 directive—genotoxicity fell to 10%, and after 20 minutes, corresponding to the limit of quantification for the parent compounds, it dropped further to 6%, a statistically significant reduction. The plant growth index climbed above 80%, crossing from toxic territory into biocompatibility. The mitotic index in onion cells remained statistically indistinguishable from the deionized-water control (around 39–40% versus 40%), demonstrating that the process generated no cytotoxic byproducts capable of arresting cell division. And crucially for agricultural applications, neither the treated effluent nor its transformation products inhibited growth of A. brasilense or S. cerevisiae.
The mechanistic details are instructive. In the untreated enriched effluent, micronuclei—membrane-bound DNA fragments expelled from the nucleus during flawed cell division—were among the most frequent aberrations, indicating clastogenic and aneugenic damage. Colchicine exposure predictably produced C-metaphase accumulation, a signature of its tubulin-binding, spindle-disrupting mechanism first described in Allium nearly a century ago. SMX depressed the mitotic index and induced chromosomal damage, consistent with prior findings in Vicia faba. NTZ, whose genotoxicity had never before been reported, produced chromosome breaks, stickiness, and nuclear buds. After oxidation, the overall aberration burden fell sharply, particularly micronuclei and stickiness, although a few bridges and polyploid cells persisted even at 20 minutes—a reminder that some transformation products or resistant residuals may linger.
The microbial results came with a subtlety. Reduced A. brasilense growth after treatment initially looked like a red flag, but the team attributes it to depletion of assimilable organic matter, which serves as radical scavenger during oxidation and as a nutrient source afterward—not to toxicity. The negative control likewise grew slowly. This distinction matters because AOPs are designed to mineralize organic carbon, and a nutrient-poorer medium should not be misread as a more toxic one. For S. cerevisiae, no inhibition occurred at any stage of treatment, although NTZ alone significantly depressed yeast optical density, reinforcing the compound’s cell-cycle interference potential even at nanomolar-scale exposures.
The study’s broader significance lies in its methodological stance. By adopting an “effect-driven approach,” the team evaluated the toxicity of whole reaction mixtures without needing to isolate and identify individual transformation products—an impractical task given that many degradation byproducts are not commercially available. Their findings align with a growing consensus that treatment efficacy must be judged not merely by parent-compound removal but by the nature and reactivity of the resulting transformation products. Biochemical biomarkers such as MDA and protein carbonylation detected sublethal disturbances that mortality-based endpoints would have missed entirely, providing early warnings of cellular distress at environmentally relevant concentrations.
One caveat deserves attention: while lipid peroxidation declined after treatment, protein carbonylation rose slightly—1.05-fold above control—suggesting some transformation products may still provoke protein oxidation even as lipid damage subsides. The authors flag this discrepancy and call for future identification of the specific TPs responsible, alongside expanded organism panels, longer-term exposure studies, and pilot-scale validation across different environmental matrices.
The regulatory context sharpens the urgency. The EU’s proposed urban wastewater treatment directive mandates at least 80% removal of specified organic micropollutants and microbiological control for agricultural reuse, yet it conspicuously omits eco-compatibility assessment of the treated water itself. This study supplies exactly that missing dimension, showing that a process satisfying the chemical benchmark also delivers measurable biological benefit—lower genotoxicity, restored plant growth, intact cell division, and unharmed beneficial microbes. As water scarcity intensifies globally and reuse becomes less optional, the Brazilian team’s integrated bioassay framework offers a template for ensuring that the water farmers irrigate with is not merely chemically compliant, but genuinely ecologically safe.
Subject of Research: Mitigation of micropollutant toxicity in treated wastewater using the H₂O₂/S₂O₈²⁻/UVC advanced oxidation process, assessed through integrated ecotoxicological bioassays for potential agricultural reuse.
Article Title: Mitigation of micropollutant toxicity in treated wastewater using the H2O2/S2O82−/UVC process: An ecotoxicological perspective for agricultural reuse
Article References: da Costa, L. G., dos Santos, G. M., Marson, E. O., de Lima, M. G. F., de Souza Bessa, M. A., Scarafiz, G., Junior, S. F. S., Saggioro, E. M., de Carvalho, S. R., de Siqueira Ferreira, A., Nilin, J., Neto, W. B., & Trovó, A. G. (2026). Mitigation of micropollutant toxicity in treated wastewater using the H2O2/S2O82−/UVC process: An ecotoxicological perspective for agricultural reuse. Environmental Science and Pollution Research. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11356-026-38218-5
These new findings could help scientists adapt crops to dry environmental conditions in the future. Plants rely on sunlight to turn water and carbon dioxide into energy-rich sugars and oxygen through different forms of photosynthesis. Drought can make that process far more difficult. A research group led by Wolfram Weckwerth at the University of Vienna [...]
The Black Panther villain’s hairstyle has become a default for Black video game characters because it’s easy to code. Danielle Udogaranya is changing that.
Around 1590 BCE — more than 800 years before Rome was founded, and before Tutankhamun was even born — a small number of people in what is now southeastern Poland started eating a cereal that had never grown in their fields. It wasn’t a local crop, and it didn’t belong to any plant known elsewhere […]
This article was produced in partnership with Type Investigations and with support from the Fund for Investigative Journalism.
When Eli Regalado first heard God speak to him, he wondered whether he was hallucinating. Now he likens the experience to having “a thought that is not my thought.” Divine words echo in his mind like a line from a movie or the memory of a loved one’s voice. “It’s not ‘You better do this,’” he says. “It’s just a knowing inside you: This is what you do.”
Holy messages arrive daily while Eli is praying, reading, or watching television. Sometimes they surface in prophetic dreams or missives from strangers. Occasionally, they appear midsentence, when he pauses to ask, “Lord, what do you want to say here?”
Eli’s wife, Kaitlyn, tends to get heavenly dispatches in the shower, when she finally has a moment to herself. Other times, she seeks counsel from above. “I’ll be writing in my journal and praying and asking questions and just believing what I’m hearing is Him,” she says.
God’s directives have been manifold. According to the Regalados, He told them to get married, buy a house, and start having kids. When Eli owned a marketing firm in Colorado, He told him what to name it, whom to hire, and which clients to take on. Then God told him to start preaching in his living room and online. Always, the couple obeyed.
In 2021, when Eli was 41 and Kaitlyn was 28, divine guidance steered them in an unexpected new direction: crypto.
That October, the Regalados later testified in court, Eli’s sister and her husband gifted the couple some of their holdings in a little-known digital coin. “Take this to my people for a wealth transfer,” Eli heard God say. He and Kaitlyn felt that they were being called to sell the cryptocurrency to fellow Christians.
Later, though they had no background in crypto, they came to believe that God wanted them to launch their own coin. Learning as they went, the Regalados created a new cryptocurrency called INDXcoin, which they promoted through family, friends, and contacts in evangelical Christian circles. “I was really feeling that this is the wave of the future,” says Debbie Bonilla, a retired pharmacy technician in her 70s who bought INDXcoin with her husband, Jose. The couple learned about the currency through friends—a minister and his wife, who had also invested. “We just trusted that their judgment was good,” Jose says.
Starting in November 2022, Debbie and Jose withdrew a total of $70,000 from their retirement accounts—a large share of their nest egg—to buy INDXcoin. In all, more than 500 people handed over a total of more than $3 million to the Regalados.
But within a year after the Bonillas bought in, the project collapsed. Investors who had entrusted the Regalados with large sums of cash lost it all, leaving many to wonder where the funds went and some to question whether they had fallen victim to an elaborate fraud.
“Poof—the money just evaporated,” Debbie told me. “Like, how does that happen?”
Though Eli believed God was leading him into crypto, he claims he was initially apprehensive. “Absolutely not,” he recalls thinking. “I don’t know anything about cryptocurrency, and I don’t want to be caught up in some church scam.”
The crypto market was booming, and the Regalados knew people who’d made a fortune investing in early-stage coins. But a growing interest in digital assets also meant a rise in crypto fraud.
In 2025, crypto scammers collected at least $14 billion worldwide, a 17% increase from the previous year, according to blockchain analytics firm Chainalysis. And in the United States, victims of fraudulent crypto investment schemes reported $7.2 billion in losses to the FBI.
Fraud is on the rise partly because many people who invest in crypto don’t fully understand how it works, and launching digital coins is relatively easy. More than 3 million cryptocurrencies were minted in August 2026 alone, according to the website CoinMarketCap. “It’s just something anybody can create,” says Jason Ghetian, a former FBI special agent who has served as an expert witness in crypto cases.
In the US, much of the crypto market lacks the oversight and investor protections in place in traditional finance, including rules around transparency and safeguarding customer assets. “There isn’t adequate disclosure; there’s fraud, there’s manipulation of the price, there’s conflicts of interest,” says Timothy Massad, former chairman of the US Commodity Futures Trading Commission (CFTC). The sector is overseen by a tangled web of state and federal regulators, including the CFTC, the Securities and Exchange Commission, the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network, and others. But “every agency has its own tests and definitions,” says Carol Goforth, a law professor at the University of Arkansas who has written a textbook on crypto regulation. “It is a complicated, fragmented, and often inconsistent approach.”
After the industry spent around $135 million backing crypto-friendly candidates in the 2024 election cycle, the federal government significantly scaled back enforcement efforts. Last year, the Justice Department disbanded its unit focused on crypto crimes, and the Trump White House created a working group aimed at “eliminating regulatory overreach on digital assets.”
The SEC has dropped or retreated from the majority of its active lawsuits against crypto firms, including many with financial ties to the president, the New York Times reported. Donald Trump and his family have netted at least $2.3 billion from their crypto ventures since his reelection, Reuters recently estimated. In August 2026, the SEC proposed new rules that would narrow the circumstances in which crypto transactions fall under securities laws, further limiting the agency’s oversight of the industry. “Any future enforcement will have an uphill battle,” Goforth says.
Even when crypto projects operate aboveboard, prices are often driven by speculation, and large swings are common. Investing in crypto comes with considerable risk, experts say. “With the exception of stablecoins, crypto assets are essentially Ponzi schemes,” says Hilary Allen, a law professor at American University. “There is nothing behind them—no cash flow, no productive capacity—so the only way they can be more valuable is to draw more people in.”
In recent years, state and federal authorities have brought a series of cases against people they allege ran crypto scams that targeted religious communities—an example of what’s known as affinity fraud. Among them are a couple accused of using faith-based appeals to defraud primarily Haitian immigrants of more than $1 billion, an Instagram influencer who took in over $12 million from Muslim followers, and a Miami pastor charged with stealing millions from his Spanish-speaking congregation. “‘God told me’—who can argue with that?” Ghetian says.
“The ties you have with other people—the trust you have—is what the people who are running the scam play on,” says Tung Chan, commissioner of the Colorado Division of Securities. In a civil case filed in January 2024, she accused the Regalados of using investors’ Christian faith to dupe them into buying crypto that was “essentially worthless.”
The suit, filed in Denver District Court, alleged that the couple spent around $1.3 million—nearly 40% of the funds they raised—on personal expenses. Purchases included high-end vacations, designer clothing, jewelry, cosmetic dental work, a Range Rover, an au pair, and extensive home renovations. In her lawsuit, Chan contended that the couple’s “drive to make money” was matched only by “their reckless disregard of securities laws and profound lack of scruples towards their investors.”
Then, in July 2025, Denver’s district attorney charged the Regalados with 40 felonies, including theft, racketeering, and securities fraud. If convicted, they could face decades in prison.But the couple maintain that they haven’t done anything wrong and were simply carrying out God’s wishes.
“If you think following the Lord is reckless, then yeah, we were very reckless,” Eli told me. “Because we just listened and did what the Lord said to do.”
Eli says that when he first heard from the heavens, he was behind bars.
It was 2002, and he was 22, facing eight years in prison for stealing a Honda Civic. Eli had originally been sentenced when he was 20 but was let out after just seven months; he was sent back to jail when he violated the terms of his probation by breaking a beer bottle on a man’s face.
This time around, as Eli tells it, his public defender warned him that it was “legally impossible” that he’d be released early again. But he heard a voice in his head repeating, “I’m going to give you probation.” And then it happened: A judge suspended his sentence. The incident became core to his worldview: “It first has to … look completely impossible,” he says, “and then that’s when God resurrects it.”
After he got out of prison, Eli’s religious zeal didn’t stick. He threw himself into a worldly goal: making money. “I just need to put on this success mask,” he recalls thinking, “so that people would see me as valuable.” He marked “no” when asked about felony convictions on job applications and eventually discovered that he had an aptitude for sales. He hawked everything from vacuum cleaners to leads for contractors, before pivoting to marketing.
In 2010, Icosa Magazine, a Denver-based publication, brought Eli on as a consultant. “He is the most charismatic bullshitter I have ever met in my life,” says Jan Mazotti, who was editor-in-chief at the time. She recalls Eli telling her that Kimbal Musk, Elon Musk’s brother, had offered to let the magazine host events at his restaurant: “I called up there, and they were like, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’” (Eli doesn’t recall the incident.)
In 2013, Eli launched Mad Hatter Agency, a marketing firm specializing in crowdfunding campaigns. Nikko Lobato, an early employee, observed that Eli got a rush from selling that reminded him of Leonardo DiCaprio’s character in the film The Wolf of Wall Street. Eli accepted so many projects, Lobato says, that he sometimes ended up “overpromising and underdelivering.” Four clients I contacted were satisfied; three were not, including one who ended his contract “due to poor performance.” Mike Stemple, an entrepreneur and author, told me that Eli volunteered to help him market a course but never did. (Eli says they had a “personality conflict.”) “My hope, Eli,” Stemple wrote in an email, “is that you understand that your gift to be able to sell anything to anyone … can easily be destructive.”
After he was released from prison, Eli threw himself into a career in sales. “I just need to put on this success mask,” he recalls thinking, “so that people would see me as valuable.”
MATT NAGER
Eli’s personal life was chaotic. “I was always in and out of relationships,” he says. “I was drinking, partying, doing drugs.” He blames his professional missteps on cocaine use and a “nervous breakdown.” He told me that by 2018, as he approached 40, he felt “scared of not becoming somebody” and contemplated suicide. Eli was coming off a three-day cocaine bender when his mother gave him a book called The Power of Right Believing by a Singaporean pastor, Joseph Prince. It moved him deeply. He began delving into charismatic Christianity, a movement that emphasizes a strong personal relationship with God, including prophecy, healing, and speaking in tongues.
Heeding divine direction, Eli says, he quit drugs and hired nearly a dozen friends and relatives to work at his marketing agency, which he renamed Grace Led Marketing. He also started leading daily Bible study with employees and preaching at weekly gatherings in his living room. In 2020, he formed a church called Victorious Grace and began broadcasting sermons on Facebook.
That summer, Eli met Kaitlyn at a party. Thirteen years his junior, Kaitlyn was slender and soft-spoken, with straight dark hair and a gleaming smile. Immediately, she told me, “I just trusted the man with my life.” On their first date, Kaitlyn was “saved” over dinner. Within four months, they wed and bought a house in Denver, and Kaitlyn began running operations at Grace Led Marketing.
By the end of 2020, however, the newlyweds’ income had begun to nosedive. Crowdfunding campaigns were underperforming and clients were paying late, they say. Eli owed over $160,000 in unpaid taxes. “I feel like a failure,” he recalls thinking.
The Regalados further strained their finances by again following what they saw as God’s will. After learning that she was pregnant in March 2021, Kaitlyn took $60,000 out of her 401(k) and paid an architect to draw up plans for a home renovation. Their vision started small but expanded, nearly doubling the home’s original square footage: enlarging their bedroom, adding another, and creating two offices, a gym, and a family room with a bar. “The Lord’s like, ‘Just do it how you want to,’” Kaitlyn recalls. Within months, they had emptied the 401(k). On the strength of another divine pronouncement, they shuttered their marketing business. “We needed a financial miracle badly,” Kaitlyn says.
One night, the Regalados woke at around 4:30 a.m. to a blaring television. Onscreen, Bill Winston, a televangelist based near Chicago, was talking about “sowing a seed.” Often associated with the prosperity gospel, the practice holds that by donating money to worthy recipients, believers create the conditions for future blessings.
“God is telling us to give all we have in both the business + personal accounts to receive 100 fold,” Kaitlyn wrote in her journal in mid-October 2021. The couple had no income and were struggling to pay their bills. Yet shortly before their first child was born, they say, they sent their last $2,718.44 to Bill Winston Ministries.
Just two weeks passed before their divine bounty seemed to arrive. Eli’s sister Raina Applegate and her husband, Daniel, gifted them a trove of cryptocurrency called Sumcoin, the Regalados later testified in their civil trial. In his testimony, Eli recalled them saying, “God is telling us to sow this into you.” (Raina did not respond to requests for comment; Daniel declined to answer specific questions but disputed our reporting and warned that Eli’s version of events should not be trusted.)
Created in 2016 by Ty Jacobsen, a 32-year-old in Idaho who published content about investing online, Sumcoin billed itself as “the world’s first index based cryptocurrency.” The coin’s website stated that its price was determined by an algorithm that tracked the performance of the top 100 cryptocurrencies. According to their civil trial testimony, the Regalados believed that the Sumcoin they had been gifted was worth around $2 million.
Soon after receiving the cryptocurrency, Eli was praying at his kitchen table when he heard God instruct him to “take this Sumcoin to my people, the church.” To the Regalados, signs that they should start selling the coin to other Christians seemed irrefutable: Kaitlyn was drawn to scripture containing the word “hidden”—which translates to kryptós in Greek. A friend who had agreed to pray about whether they should venture into crypto called to confirm: “The Lord says yes.” Despite Eli’s initial concerns about their lack of experience, the Regalados decided to proceed.
The friend, who ran a faith-based coaching business, invited people to join Eli in video calls that were part Bible study, part Sumcoin sales pitch. Within five days, the Regalados had recorded around $9,000 in profit. By February 2022, they were fielding so many queries that Eli hosted a webinar. “Sumcoin is the only coin that can’t be pumped and dumped,” he declared. “It’s very similar to, like, the S&P 500.” (Unlike stock index funds, Sumcoin had no underlying assets to back its value.) That month, the couple made over $260,000 in sales.
Yet Sumcoin was not listed on any of the major crypto exchanges, meaning that those who owned it could mainly trade it with others one-on-one at whatever price the parties agreed on. In a video call with Eli and people interested in Sumcoin, Daniel stated that “the goal is to get the coin 100% liquidable in every facet there is,” including “putting the coin on the exchanges.” The Regalados also told the people they sold Sumcoin to that it would soon appear on exchanges. Once that happened, coins would trade at the price Sumcoin’s algorithm set, according to a deck the Regalados sent one investor in February 2022. One slide put that price at more than $1,200 and included a chart offering coins for $60 to $80.
But months into peddling Sumcoin, the Regalados learned from Jacobsen, its founder, that he wasn’t planning to list it on mainstream exchanges. Jacobsen told me he never intended for the coin to be traded like a stock, asserting, “I’ve never really looked at it as an investment.” This proved to be a major point of contention between Eli and Jacobsen. “He was lying to people about what he was doing,” Jacobsen says, “about what the future was going to hold.” Eli insists, “I was relaying what I was being told.”
By June 2022, the Regalados were hearing a new heavenly instruction: “Build your own coin.”
The Regalados called it INDXcoin. Like Sumcoin, it would base its price on the value of the top 100 digital coins by market cap. Most new cryptocurrencies are tokens created on top of existing blockchains—something anyone can do in minutes through an online token generator. But Eli heard God say, “Don’t do that; it has to be its own thing.” So the Regalados chose a harder route: launching their own blockchain and native coin. They say they paid two developers who’d worked on Sumcoin $100,000 to bring the project to life. Eli says he and Kaitlyn told them, “We don’t know anything that we’re doing.”
The couplelearned on the fly, typing questions like “What is a blockchain?” into YouTube and ChatGPT. Eli saw that crypto projects often issue a white paper to outline their strategy and mechanics, so he hired a freelancer to draft one. The resulting document explained that INDXcoin’s target market included “Christian Believers” and “less experienced crypto enthusiasts.” A website the Regalados created referred to INDXcoin as “the perfect crypto” and touted “incredible growth with minimal risk.” (It noted that INDXcoin was “not a fund” and “does not own the coins it indexes.”)
Before striking upon crypto, the couple struggled to pay bills and prayed for “a financial miracle.”
MATT NAGER
The Regalados gave the people they’d sold Sumcoin to INDXcoin instead. Friends, relatives, and others in their religious network spread the word, and the couple offered some of them referral commissions of 30%. The Regalados also gifted INDXcoin—what they considered “sowing”—to ministries and individuals, some of whom went on to buy more. And they publicized the project on social media, a podcast, and a Christian TV program, as well as through a promotional contest.
In a video sent to prospective buyers, Eli was open about his criminal past and lack of crypto experience. Quoting scripture, he hyped the venture as the latest in “a chain reaction of miracles” and said, “God wants you to have things.”
Debbie and Jose Bonilla, the retired couple who bought $70,000 worth of INDXcoin, say that when they watched one of Eli’s presentations before investing, he appeared to be well versed in scripture. “He seemed sincere,” Debbie says. “He seemed like he was hearing from God.” Because it was a “God-driven vehicle,” she says, she “didn’t feel like we would have nefarious things going on that happen with other cryptocurrencies.”
A more tangible prospect also beckoned. “There was an explanation of how wonderful the returns would be,” Jose says. “That was the selling point—that you could become rich overnight.”
Initially, the Regalados told buyers that they were working to list INDXcoin on established exchanges. They learned that many platforms conduct a legal review to determine whether a coin could be considered a security. For crypto projects, courts have ruled that “when you sell something to people, and people have some reasonable expectation of profit from your actions, then it’s a security,” Massad, the former CFTC chair, told me. Issuers of coins deemed securities must follow the same laws governing stocks and bonds, including registering with the SEC and providing detailed financial disclosures.
The Regalados were not complying with those rules, and Eli began consulting attorneys, whose assessments were concerning. “Freaking out here,” he wrote in his journal in the summer of 2022. “Lawyers are saying it could be a security. Which means I illegally sold this to 100+ people.” But after praying with a “prophetic team” they’d convened to advise them, the Regalados continued selling INDXcoin.
By the fall of 2022, the couple seemed to have found a way forward: After meeting with an attorney named John Benemerito, they decided to position INDXcoin as a “utility” coin, the main purpose of which would be unlocking access to products or services—akin to tokens redeemed in a video game. The Regalados devised a plan to create Kingdom Wealth Community, a members-only platform where INDXcoin holders would have access to coaching, merchandise, courses on finance and spirituality, and more. After reviewing their vision, Benemerito stated in a letter that INDXcoin didn’t need to comply with securities laws, because “it does not provide a direct expectation of profits.”
“Utility coins do not need to be asset-backed as their value is within the platform itself,” a lawyer from Benemerito’s firm later wrote to the Regalados. “However, if the intent is to give the coin a value independent of the platform, then it would need to be asset-backed for it to maintain its value.”
Eli later admitted in court that he did not inform Benemerito that people who bought INDXcoin wanted to make money. (Benemerito told me that “any legal opinion issued by my firm was based on the facts and representations provided to us by the client.”)
Around the same time, Eli told me, the Regalados were having trouble getting INDXcoin listed on existing exchanges. They decided to build not just Kingdom Wealth Community but also their own platform—Kingdom Wealth Exchange—where people could trade INDXcoin for bitcoin, ether, and US dollars. Hundreds of crypto exchanges exist, but the top few handle the vast majority of transactions; it’s rare for cryptocurrency creators to build an exchange just to enable trade in their coin. But the Regalados had told buyers there would be a way to cash out. “There was a lot of pressure as more people were coming in,” Kaitlyn says. “Like, ‘Oh, we gotta get them an exit.’”
The Regalados announced that it would take five weeks to build the exchange, but development work, which they’d outsourced to an Indian firm they’d found online, dragged on into early 2023. “Nothing was working right,” Eli says.
Other roadblocks piled up. A Singaporean consulting firm the Regalados hired suggested that they register Kingdom Wealth Exchange as a money services business in Canada, “allegedly because they were the fastest,” Kaitlyn says, but that process also stalled for months. Meanwhile, the members-only community and crypto wallets the Regalados were building were rife with technical issues. When the couple commissioned a security audit of INDXcoin’s blockchain, it scored 0 out of 10. A follow-up audit in March 2023 noted that the issues had been fixed but raised additional concerns, and it yielded a score of only 5.4. (Eli announced that they’d “passed with flying colors.”)
Insiders were also voicing misgivings about the project’s financial footing. During a live YouTube update back in November 2022, two viewers asked Eli to comment on INDXcoin’s “liquidity pool.” Earlier that month, FTX, one of the world’s largest crypto exchanges, had collapsed after fears about its financial health triggered billions of dollars in customer withdrawals. Eli assured viewers that he and Kaitlyn were working to ensure that they had sufficient reserves and that “there isn’t going to be some FTX meltdown.”
Months later, when the Regalados sent their business plan and white paper to an INDXcoin investor who worked as a financial consultant, he cautioned that “the project is seriously undercapitalized” and wrote in an email, “Projected annual revenues look like they were just plucked from the air.”
And when Roger Gauthier, another investor who referred people to INDXcoin, asked Eli whether he had set aside funds for purchasers who wanted out, Eli said no. “That was my first flag of warning,” Gauthier says.
Dan Wheeler, a crypto influencer known as 360Trader who advised the Regalados on INDXcoin, says he repeatedly warned Eli that the couple needed hundreds of millions of dollars to back the stated value of coins sold and given away. “If there’s no money there,” Wheeler says, “it’s worthless.”
By April 2023, Eli was growing more frustrated: Kingdom Wealth Exchange was nearly six months behind schedule, and payments to the developers in India had ballooned to more than $50,000. People were bombarding him with messages asking when the platform would open. “There’s this humiliation—no one likes failing,” Eli told me. “I succumbed to that pressure.”
The Regalados were staying at a luxury resort in the Florida Keys dotted with palm trees and bougainvillea. One day, Eli was praying on a wicker couch in an open-air tiki hut when he heard God tell him it was time to launch the exchange. He found Kaitlyn and told her, “We’re live on April 11.”
Kaitlyn objected. During testing, the platform still had bugs, including trouble verifying users’ identities. The Regalados hadn’t been able to open a bank account for the exchange, which meant users could transact only in bitcoin and ether, not US dollars and other fiat currencies. And the Regalados hadn’t gotten far in building the community space they’d discussed with their lawyer, having launched just one course.
“We don’t have to have it perfect,” Eli told Kaitlyn. “Let’s just rock and roll. Let’s just get money in. Let’s get these people off our back.”
In the days leading up to the launch, the Regalados discussed limiting sales, a practice crypto platforms sometimes use to manage liquidity and volatility. If INDXcoin holders dumped all the currency they’d bought or gotten for free, it would take over $300 million to fulfill sales orders. But Eli kept hearing God say, “Don’t limit me.” He pushed back: “Then we can basically have what’s called a run on the bank, right?” The evening before the launch, the couple prayed again. “Kait + I got the same verse,” Eli wrote in his journal. “Don’t turn selling off.”
On the morning of April 11, Kaitlyn was beginning to feel optimistic, and Eli was buzzing. “This thing’s gonna explode,” he thought. At 11 a.m., Eli appeared on a livestream. A print of a gray wolf loomed over his shoulder. “Hello INDXcoin family,” he began, clapping for emphasis. “We are live!”
For investors, returns finally seemed within reach. The exchange initially showed INDXcoin trading at around 10 times what people had paid for it, based on how the crypto market was performing overall; the Bonillas’ $70,000 investment looked to be worth more than $716,000.
MATT NAGER
But nearly an hour into the broadcast—after slides of Bible verses and rosy projections—a viewer posted a complaint in the chat: “Exchange says I can’t sell INDX.” “It’s probably just because the liquidity isn’t there right now,” Eli explained calmly. “Just wait a little bit.” Ten minutes later, someone else wrote that his sale wasn’t going through. “Just be patient,” Eli said. “The Lord will provide for Himself.”
Over the next few hours, the Regalados kept checking the exchange’s dashboard. Dozens of transactions were rolling in, but the problem was obvious: Sales were dwarfing purchases. By the afternoon, the $30,000 they’d put in to facilitate trades had been drained. They decided to add another $100,000 to the pot.
A couple hours later, Eli was out getting coffee when he called Kaitlyn to check in. She was crying. “All the liquidity is gone,” she said.
The next day, the Regalados announced that they were suspending sales. “That was when we saw that we could be in trouble,” Jose Bonilla says.
Eli told me that after the launch failed, he felt “crushing anxiety” but heard God remind him, “It’s impossible to mess this up.” He and Kaitlyn took steps they hoped would salvage the project, but months passed, and they kept sales on hold.
In June, Jose emailed the Regalados, explaining that he needed to withdraw half of his investment to fund a community development initiative he’d founded in his native Colombia. Eli replied that they had just reopened sales—limited to one coin per day and 10 per month. When they did so, the exchange had around $20,000 available to fulfill sales orders. “Liquidating HALF of your coins is not probable at this juncture,” Eli wrote. Three days after sales resumed, the Regalados halted them again, blaming a technical glitch.
When Jose followed up a few months later about pulling out half of his investment, Eli replied, “At this time there is zero funds to do that.” In November 2023, the Regalados shut down the exchange and took INDXcoin’s blockchain offline.
“Shame, condemnation, suicidal thoughts have just been pouring in hot and heavy on me,” Eli shared in a video update, standing before an image of a swirling purple cosmos. “Where did I get this wrong?”
Two months later, the Regalados learned that Colorado’s securities regulator was accusing them of committing fraud and selling unregistered securities. The state soon added to the suit 12 defendants it said had received commissions for selling INDXcoin, alleging that they had also sold unregistered securities. Among them were Eli’s brother-in-law, Daniel Applegate,and a company associated with Gauthier, the INDXcoin investor. A judge entered a default judgment after they failed to respond and ordered them to pay judgments of $15,000 and $34,400, respectively. Eli’s father, Eligio Regalado Sr., who was also accused of securities fraud, agreed to refund $122,000 to friends, relatives, and colleagues without admitting or denying liability. (Gauthier denied wrongdoing; Eli’s father, through his attorney, declined to comment. Daniel denied being a part of INDXcoin and, despite being named in the lawsuit, claims that it has nothing to do with him and his wife.)
“I really can’t speak to whether or not he heard God tell him to do it,” Chan, the Colorado securities commissioner who filed the suit, told me. “Even if [the Regalados] meant it from the goodness of their heart, the problem is, it’s not fair to the investors … They lied and omitted key things.”
I spoke with 20 INDXcoin investors, and nearly all had heard about the coin from a trusted friend, relative, or faith leader. Most had little or no experience with crypto. They funded their purchases by raiding retirement funds, cashing out a pension, using proceeds from selling a small business, or taking out a home equity line of credit they’re still paying interest on. One buyer, a disabled veteran in his 70s, hoped profits from his investment would help him recover financially after he accrued debt while being treated for cancer. Another, who had retired, was forced to get a job at Home Depot in his late 60s. “It’s a gut-wrenching, horrible, helpless feeling,” he says.
Investors are divided on whether they were conned. Jose Bonilla, who reported the Regalados to authorities, believes that their actions were “totally intentional.” “They are using a spiritual excuse to defraud,” he says. His wife, Debbie, disagrees and thinks that the Regalados simply “got in way over their heads.”
A number of people who bought in still support the Regalados. “They’re hearing God’s voice and trying their best to follow it,” says Troy Bramblet, a former pastor who lost more than $18,000 on INDXcoin. “It doesn’t guarantee success.”
Wheeler, the crypto influencer who advised the Regalados, also alerted authorities about INDXcoin but remains unsure whether the couple set out to fleece people. “They are zealots—they are literally blinded,” he says. “If you believe God is going to do a thing, then are you scamming people? No. But look how they spent their money.”
In a video posted days after the case was filed, Eli admitted that he and Kaitlyn had in fact “sold a cryptocurrency with no clear exit.” He acknowledged that they had pocketed $1.3 million—including money spent on “a home remodel that the Lord told us to do.”
Last November, I visited the Regalados in the three-bedroom townhouse they rent in a Denver suburb dominated by office parks and cookie-cutter condos. The house they own is uninhabitable—renovations stopped halfway through the project, after they stopped making payments.
In person, Eli is friendly and charming, with a restless energy and subterranean intensity occasionally betrayed by his stare. He is prone to lengthy monologues delivered with such conviction they make you second-guess bald facts. Kaitlyn, who comes across as reserved yet frank, has “Believe” tattooed on her wrist. They told me that they argued frequently after INDXcoin collapsed, but when I was there, Kaitlyn listened to her husband attentively and always laughed at his jokes.
On a sunny Thursday afternoon, I followed the Regalados upstairs to a corner of their bedroom containing a tiny desk and a whiteboard. The room was modestly furnished with what they said were secondhand finds. The bed was unmade, and a Bible lay on the floor.
Eli was preparing to address members of INDXcoin’s private forum in his first live call in nearly two months. He closed his eyes and prayed. “Just allow me to speak simply,” he said, like a teenager asking a parent for a favor. “Just be able to use analogies, to be able to bring it down to their level of understanding.” “Amen,” Kaitlyn said.
After hunting breathlessly for a laptop stand, Eli grabbed a stack of journals—full of divine revelations—and plopped his computer on top. He switched on the camera, and his image appeared before a faux backdrop of potted plants. Eli had a receding hairline and stubbly beard, and he wore a black T-shirt and a silver cross on a thick chain. Before letting callers in, he ran his fingers through his hair and his tongue over his teeth—now perfect, thanks to cosmetic dental work paid for with proceeds from coin sales.
“Okay. Awesome. All right. So hey, good afternoon, INDXcoin community!” Eli began, flashing a smile. “We’ve got some exciting updates.” Then, in the tone of a tech founder reporting on a strong quarter, he shared the news: Two months earlier, a judge had ruled against the Regalados in their civil case, and they were now facing criminal charges from the district attorney’s office.
“Someone asked me, ‘Are you going to do a plea?’” He paused to sip water. “Short answer is no … We haven’t done anything wrong.”
The Regalados deny orchestrating a scam. “If you’re giving massive amounts of money away at the expense of your own self and family, that doesn’t hold up,” Eli says. The couple estimate that they’ve gifted $300,000 in cash, plus a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, a BMW, and a Louis Vuitton bag, to churches and individuals through sowing. They also gave away millions of INDXcoin—90% of the supply. (Eli told me, “No one sows without expecting something in return,” though not necessarily from the recipient.)
In their civil case, the Regalados represented themselves because they couldn’t afford lawyers. They argued that INDXcoin wasn’t a security because it was a utility coin and that the price was set by “immutable algorithm.” They claimed that their technology provider had caused the exchange to fail, consultants had led them astray on compliance, and attorneys had said they didn’t need to maintain liquidity or disclose spending. (Benemerito, the lawyer the Regalados had retained, told me, “Our firm does not advise clients to violate the law.”)
The judge disagreed, finding that INDXcoin was a security and that the Regalados had misled investors about its true value and risks, where their funds went, how many coins had been given away, and more. Noting a “lack of understanding of the harm they have caused,” she ordered them to pay nearly $3.4 million in damages—the amount of money they’d raised. “Ascribing an algorithmic value to a coin does not make it ‘worth’ that amount,” the judge wrote. “In reality, INDXcoin was worthless because no one wanted to buy it.”
When I visited, two months had passed since the ruling. The Regalados still hadn’t read the judge’s opinion in full but had decided to appeal. Later, they would draft briefs with help from Google Scholar and AI. (The case is still pending.)
Besides filing court documents and preparing for their criminal case, the couple spend their days like typical suburban parents: taking their kids to playgrounds, walking their chiweenie, working out. They still host biweekly Bible studies. Sometimes they ride their Harley to Palmer Lake or the Rocky Mountain foothills. (“We only wear helmets when it’s windy or cold,” Kaitlyn says.) Their assets were frozen soon after the civil case was filed; Eli had found work selling roofs but says he was fired when his employer learned about his legal troubles. He declines to disclose his current gig. “It’s not related to marketing and not related to crypto,” he says.
After they were sued over INDXcoin, Eli wondered, “Did I just make this up? Am I crazy?” But he and Kaitlyn concluded that the divine signs they’d received were unmistakable. They believe that INDXcoin will eventually gain traction among world leaders losing faith in the US dollar. “We are privately making preparations,” Eli told me.
“God already saw this coming,” he assured viewers during the November video update. “He’s looking at us and saying, ‘Are you willing to believe me no matter what you see?’”
After the call ended, Eli began leafing through his journals and reading sections aloud. Since our first conversation months earlier, the Regalados had been remarkably amenable reporting subjects. They told me that their criminal defense attorneys had advised them against talking to reporters, but they sat for more than a dozen interviews with me. They provided access to INDXcoin’s private forum and supplied emails, photos, and spreadsheets—even though some documents don’t paint their decision-making in a favorable light. Once, Eli emailed to “come clean” that an anecdote he’d told had been slightly embellished. He apologized and assured me, “Everything else I have said is 100% in line with no stretches or exaggeration.”
The Regalados told me they trusted me in part because God had signed off: Not long after I’d first contacted them, they’d walked into a room with a TV playing Family Feud, and the answer displayed on the screen was “MIT.” Their approach highlighted how they had won over buyers so effectively: They were likable, shared vulnerable details, and telegraphed transparency.
Still, the Regalados didn’t appear to be feeding me an act they’d just cooked up. Instead, they seemed fully committed to their own narrative: one that paints them as righteous underdogs fulfilling a holy mission, no matter the cost. To let their faith waver would mean that everything they had lost—friends, their home, their reputations—had been in vain. It would mean admitting that they had failed. It would mean that no one was coming to save them.
Even ending up in prison wouldn’t persuade the Regalados that they’d misheard God. “He’s going to deliver you from everything, so you won’t be there forever,” Kaitlyn says, “and it might just be part of the story.”
During my visit, the Regalados agreed to show me an earlier chapter. We piled into their Ford Raptor truck, their kids in the back, and drove 20 minutes north to a quiet cul-de-sac in a leafy residential neighborhood.
We slowed near a hulking structure of rotting wooden boards. Red and brown weeds engulfed the lot and threatened to swallow the sidewalk. Out front, a tattered mattress was slumped on its side. Neighbors had sighted squatters and, as winter approached, feared fires. The Regalados still owed their contractor nearly $110,000 for work completed.
Construction on the Regalados’ home stopped after their crypto venture collapsed.
MATT NAGER
I asked whether we could get out, but Eli and Kaitlyn didn’t want to run into anyone. “I just don’t want to have a conversation of like, ‘When are you gonna cut your grass?’” Eli said. (The city had sent them violation notices the previous year for not maintaining the property.)
As we drove away, I asked how it felt to see the ghost of their dream home.
“It used to hurt,” Kaitlyn said.
“Here’s this unfulfilled promise,” Eli added.
But it didn’t bother them anymore.
“If we lose the house,” Kaitlyn said, “that means we’re getting something way bigger and way better.”
They made a U-turn at the end of the street and, seat belts unbuckled, rounded the corner without looking back.
Katia Savchuk is an independent journalist based in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her work has appeared in the New Yorker, Forbes, Mother Jones, and many other publications.
With 62,000 people arrested for speech crimes in five years, the UK can no longer claim to be a free society, says Paul Birch. The state has learned to fear its people and will no longer tolerate them speaking freely.
Scientists have an indisputable playful side, evidenced by frequent allusions to popular culture in their research publications. That includes popular song lyrics. And the most popular musical group, in terms of how frequently their songs and lyrics appear in the scientific literature, is The Beatles, according to a new paper published in the journal PLoS ONE.
“Some of these are genuinely brilliant," said co-author Gabriel Budel of Delft University of Technology in the Netherlands of the more than 3,000 references they found to The Beatles. "'The lung and winding road' is a paper on Long COVID that changes one vowel. 'Here comes the SU(N)' turns 'Here Comes the Sun' into a quantum computing paper about mathematical groups. Someone was having a very good day at their desk.”
Back in 2014, scientists at the Karolinska Institute in Sweden revealed that they had been deliberately inserting Bob Dylan lyrics into their papers as part of a long-running bet, starting with a 1997 Nature review entitled "Nitric Oxide and inflammation: The answer is blowing in the wind." That resulted in a 2015 study on whether Dylan lyrics appeared elsewhere in the biomedical literature; the most frequently referenced were "The Times They Are A'Changin'" and "Blowing in the Wind."
Login
