Showing posts with label Kraken. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kraken. Show all posts

Friday, February 2, 2024

Year 2009 to 2050 - find any date and price - Bitcoin Price Log/Log Power Law Growth Corridor

Bitcoin Price Log/Log Power Law Growth Corridor

  • Find any date and see the Mid, Low or High price in US Dollars from the year 2009 to 2050 (table format).
  • This is Inspired by BTC POWER LAW (@Giovann35084111) and Harold Burger (@hcburger1)
  • Click here or the full URL is:
https://www.bbcdsatoshi.com/gallery/Live%20Bitcoin%20Price%20Log%20Log%20Power%20Law%20Data%20BBCDSatoshi.html

Tuesday, June 20, 2023

BlackRock filing with Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) for a Bitcoin Exchange Traded Fund (ETF)

https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgar/data/1980994/000143774923017574/bit20230608_s1.htm

On each Business Day, as soon as practicable after 4:00 p.m. Eastern Time (“ET”), the Trust Administrator evaluates the bitcoin held by the Trust as reflected by the CF Benchmarks Index and determines the net asset value of the Trust and the NAV. For purposes of making these calculations, a Business Day means any day other than a day when NASDAQ is closed for regular trading. The CF Benchmarks Index employed by the Trust is calculated on each Business Day by aggregating the notional value of bitcoin trading activity across major bitcoin spot exchanges. 

The CF Benchmarks Index is designed based on the IOSCO Principles for Financial Benchmarks and is a Registered Benchmark under the UK Benchmark Regulations (“BMR”). The administrator of the CF Benchmarks Index is CF Benchmarks Ltd. (the “Index Administrator”) a UK-incorporated company, authorized and regulated by the Financial Conduct Authority (“FCA”) of the UK as a Benchmark Administrator, under UK BMR. The CF Benchmarks Index serves as a once-a-day benchmark rate of the U.S. dollar price of bitcoin (USD/BTC), calculated as of 4:00 p.m. ET. The CF Benchmarks Index aggregates the trade flow of several bitcoin exchanges, during an observation window between 3:00 p.m. and 4:00 p.m. ET into the U.S. dollar price of one bitcoin at 4:00 p.m. ET. Specifically, the CF Benchmarks Index is calculated based on the “Relevant Transactions” (as defined in “Business of the Trust—Valuation of Bitcoin; the CF Benchmarks Index”) of all of its constituent bitcoin exchanges, which are currently Bitstamp, Coinbase, itBit, Kraken, Gemini, and LMAX Digital (the “Constituent Platforms”), and which may change from time to time.


https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgar/data/1980994/000143774923017574/bit20230608_s1.htm

Wednesday, May 3, 2023

Very good article here... Is the Federal Government Trying to Kill Off Crypto? (New York Magazine)

Source: https://nymag.com/intelligencer/2023/05/is-the-federal-government-trying-to-kill-off-crypto.html

Is the Federal Government Trying to Kill Off Crypto? The industry sure thinks so — even as the White House denies it. 

By Jen Wieczner, New York features writer who covers Wall Street, business, and crypto

The crypto company was essentially reverse-engineered for Washington, D.C.’s stamp of approval. Protego Trust, founded by a lawyer turned venture capitalist, was betting big that it could be the squeaky-clean, bona fide bank that crypto needed to win Wall Street’s business. It had spent $80 million pursuing a coveted approval for a national trust charter, winning conditional approval in 2021. It then raised more than $100 million — at a reported $2 billion valuation — from big crypto companies, including Coinbase (as well as now-bankrupt FTX), among other investors. Its board included a former Fortune 500 CEO and even the onetime head of the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency, the country’s chief bank regulator.

“We courted regulation. We did everything that was required in order to build a pristine financial institution to serve the most discerning institutional clients,” says Protego founder Greg Gilman. Protego planned to work exclusively with professional investing firms (no individual retail traders), providing safekeeping (what’s known as “custody” in the crypto industry) along with trading and lending.

But when Protego told the OCC in February that it had completed all of the agency’s requirements for full approval, its application was denied on a technicality — one that the OCC had never mentioned before, according to a person familiar with the situation.

“In the end, it feels like there was an unannounced and unexplained policy change that derailed our efforts,” says Gilman, who declined to comment on the specifics. Protego subsequently laid off the majority of its staff, and the company’s future is uncertain.

In the crypto industry, the experience of Protego and that of many others like it has led to an almost universal conviction that financial regulators are purposefully trying to put them out of business — not by barring them explicitly but rather through the recent appearance of a web of policies, both written and unwritten, that together make it unfeasible or impossible for crypto firms to operate in the U.S. “It feels coordinated. It feels like a carpet-bombing,” says Kristin Smith, CEO of the Blockchain Association. “And there’s a certain realization that we have to fight back.”

Some observers from the government and law communities are raising similar complaints. “It sure seems like the OCC and, specifically, Acting Comptroller of the Currency Mike Hsu really doesn’t want to approve these applicants,” says a former regulatory official, pointing out that it’s unusual for a firm to receive conditional approval only to later be denied. “Generally speaking, once you get your conditional approval to open, it’s kind of a glide path. But there’s a lot of supervisory discretion inherent in that whole licensing process, where if they’re looking for a certain outcome, there are ways to get there.”

Meanwhile, former federal prosecutor Katie Haun, who now runs a crypto-focused venture-capital firm in Silicon Valley, accused the government of “a coordinated regulatory campaign to stymie progress in the sector” in a March column in the Wall Street Journal. “These efforts are misguided, reckless and potentially unconstitutional,” she wrote. The crypto community broadly makes the case that any large-scale legal restrictions against its activities would need to be passed by Congress and signed into law by the president — they cannot just be made up on the fly by overreaching regulators who happen not to like their business model.

Haun and others have compared current government efforts to Operation Choke Point, a secret Obama-era policy that sought to sideline legal but widely reviled industries like payday lending, gun dealing, and porn by cutting off their access to the banking system. Many in the crypto industry — which critics tend to see as neither legitimate nor productive — are now calling what’s happening to crypto “Operation Choke Point 2.0.”

“It’s different from the original Choke Point, in that they are being pretty public about it — nobody’s guessing their views,” says the former regulatory official, who spoke on condition of anonymity. “Another difference is that it’s actually broader in scope.”

The prominent (and conservative) D.C. law firm Cooper & Kirk added heft to the theory of coordination with a new white paper titled “Operation Choke Point 2.0: The Federal Bank Regulators Come for Crypto.” As the lawyers put it, “The federal bank regulators … are waging a clandestine, financial war against the cryptocurrency industry.” Nearly a decade ago, Cooper & Kirk sued the FDIC, Fed, and OCC on behalf of payday lenders for the original Operation Choke Point, successfully securing a settlement from the FDIC. “This pattern of events is not random, and we have seen it before,” the Cooper & Kirk lawyers wrote in their new paper. “The evidence of backroom coercion is only beginning to emerge.”

The various government regulators, for their part (I reached out to five regulatory agencies and the White House), largely maintain that they are acting independently and are not specifically out to get crypto. But they acknowledge that they’re guarding against what they see as major risks inherent to cryptocurrencies — particularly after crypto behemoth FTX was exposed as a fraud less than six months ago. A White House spokesperson called the allegations of a coordinated effort against crypto “categorically false”: “This administration supports responsible technological innovations that make financial services cheaper, faster, safer, and more accessible. We’ve also been outspoken about the need for congressional action to address the risks posed by cryptocurrencies to the financial system and the American people.” The OCC declined to comment on specific banks except to say that Protego did not meet all of the requirements before its conditional approval expired on February 4. A spokesperson for the FDIC pointed to a line from a joint statement in February from the trio of bank regulators — the Fed, OCC, and FDIC — about crypto-related risks, which says, “Banking organizations are neither prohibited nor discouraged from providing banking services to customers of any specific class or type, as permitted by law or regulation.” The Fed declined to comment beyond previous public statements.

Some members of Congress, however, have suspicions of their own. On March 9, the House Subcommittee on Digital Assets, Financial Technology and Inclusion held a hearing — the group’s inaugural meeting — titled “Coincidence or Coordinated? The Administration’s Attack on the Digital Asset Ecosystem.” It was less investigation than listening session as the House considers a handful of supportive bills for the industry. Various crypto executives and academics testified, citing broad frustrations with the regulatory process, but it’s not clear what the lawmakers’ next steps, if any, will be.

Whether one buys the crypto industry line of a stealth war, or the official administration line of various regulators just doing their jobs, there are objectively several fronts where the sector is facing much more intense scrutiny. Not only are banks refusing to open checking accounts for crypto-related businesses — which some suspect reflects guidance from their government supervisors (as was the case in the first Operation Choke Point) — but federal financial regulators have declined to charter or credential crypto companies en masse and warned banks about business activities involving crypto. Then there’s Gary Gensler’s recent onslaught.

For months, Gensler’s Securities and Exchange Commission has led a crackdown on the crypto industry, dropping a steady drumbeat of charges and warnings on various digital-currency companies on a roughly weekly basis. Since October, when the SEC penalized Kim Kardashian for illegally promoting crypto, Gensler has only turned up the heat. In January, the SEC brought charges against two of the biggest corporate players in the crypto space, institutional lender Genesis and exchange Gemini — then against Kraken, another large U.S.-based exchange, the following month. The party was just getting started: Then-fugitive crypto founder (and alleged scammer) Do Kwon was next, followed by former NBA star Paul Pierce, billionaire crypto founder Justin Sun, and a host of celebrities including Lindsay Lohan, Akon, and Soulja Boy. The same day the agency dropped the complaint against Lohan, it sent a warning shot in the form of a Wells Notice to Coinbase, the largest (and only publicly traded) crypto company in the country, portending a looming legal battle royal. And in mid-April, the SEC charged Bittrex and its co-founder with securities-law violations — a couple of weeks after the Seattle-based crypto exchange said it would shutter its U.S. business and operate exclusively offshore.

Stephen Palley, a D.C.-based lawyer at the large corporate law firm of Brown Rudnick, wrote on Twitter that the actions show the SEC “intends to completely shut down any crypto-related businesses in the United States”:

Indeed, the Gensler-led crackdown over the past six months has, according to many in the sector, pushed things to a crisis point, forcing a desperate decision: Fight against the federal government or flee the country. Brian Armstrong, founder and CEO of Coinbase, which has more than 100 million customers (most of them in the U.S.), announced in April that he is considering moving the firm offshore — possibly to the U.K., where he has been meeting with regulators. “Anything is on the table — including relocating or whatever is necessary,” Armstrong said at a conference in London. Coinbase then announced that it had obtained a license to operate in Bermuda. (Last week, Coinbase sued the SEC to get a yes-or-no answer on a petition for new rules for the industry, which it hopes would settle fundamental questions about which parts of the company’s business are legal and which are not.) “This is not just a fight for Coinbase,” Paul Grewal, Coinbase’s chief legal counsel, told Laura Shin on her podcast, Unchained. “This is a fight for all of crypto.”

Last week, Armstrong and Coinbase added shield emoji to their Twitter names with the company tweeting “Shields Up” — partly to signal support for a new “Stand With Crypto” campaign featuring blue-shield NFTs. The shields spread across other accounts, giving Crypto Twitter the indisputable look of heading to war.

If the military rhetoric feels excessive, it’s easier to understand when you consider that crypto hawks in the federal government are using similar terms. In late March, Senator Elizabeth Warren, who has been leading the fight against crypto on Capitol Hill, tweeted a campaign promo video that begins with the text “Elizabeth Warren is Building an Anti-crypto Army” — a headline published by Politico but clearly one that the senator wishes to embrace and promote. (Warren’s team declined to comment.) “Elizabeth Warren said the quiet part out loud,” says an executive at a major U.S. crypto firm.

Gensler, meanwhile, has made clear that he views the crypto industry as a harbor for criminals while refusing to take the complaints about his enforcement strategy too seriously. On April 1, Gensler changed his Twitter profile picture to one of him wearing sunglasses — black, animated-pixel sunglasses that are known on the internet as Thug Life glasses and are often found on the crypto mascot Doge (you know, the famous Shiba Inu). It’s known as the “Deal With It” meme and many in crypto interpreted it as a message that Gensler’s mind was set against their business. The SEC did not respond to requests for comment about “Operation Choke Point 2.0,” though a person close to the agency said the photo was an April Fools’ Day joke.

The newly aggressive posture toward crypto across multiple agencies is broadly in line with the administration’s stated view of the sector. On January 27, the White House issued a policy statement that advocates a hard-line approach to the industry. “At President Biden’s direction, we have spent the past year identifying the risks of cryptocurrencies and acting to mitigate them using the authorities that the Executive Branch has,” the statement read. It urged Congress to grant law enforcement more power to police the industry while warning it not to “make our jobs harder” by allowing “mainstream” investors to “dive headlong into cryptocurrency markets.”

At the very same moment that the White House’s statement crossed the transom, 11:30 a.m. that Friday, the Federal Reserve Board denied an application by Custodia Bank to become a member of the Federal Reserve System. Custodia, an uninsured crypto custodian chartered in Wyoming, had held out hope for years for approval, but the Fed concluded that its business “presented significant safety and soundness risks.”

Part of Custodia’s 86-page denial, though, hinged on a new Fed policy that was also published at 11:30 a.m. on Friday, January 27, and which seemed written specifically to bar uninsured banks like Custodia from crypto-related activities. The regulators had already warned banks, in strong language, that they did not look kindly on crypto business. In early January, the Fed, FDIC, and OCC put out a three-way joint statement saying that such crypto activities are “highly likely to be inconsistent with safe and sound banking practices.”

Custodia, whose founder and CEO, Caitlin Long, previously spent a couple of decades at Wall Street banks, including Morgan Stanley and Credit Suisse, is now suing the Fed. She says the application process contained “substantial procedural irregularities”: For one, the Fed’s policy statement itself was released during a Fed blackout period ahead of a rates-setting meeting. “There have been numerous agency overreaches in the last two months, and when one reads them all together, the only conclusion is that the agencies decided to throw caution to the wind, to go well beyond their legal authorities, to try to push this industry into the shadows,” says Long. (“I think people are reading far too much into what are essentially coincidences in timing,” said one administration official.)

Within weeks of Custodia’s denial, Protego was denied, as was fellow crypto custodian Paxos. Like Protego, Paxos had been granted conditional approval for national trust bank charters from the OCC in 2021. A spokesperson for the OCC confirmed that, like Protego’s, Paxos’s conditional approvals expired when the bank did not meet all of the requirements by the deadline. “We’re disappointed to not move forward with the OCC national trust,” Chad Cascarilla, CEO and co-founder of Paxos, which has taken in more than $500 million in venture funding, said in a statement. Behind the scenes, however, there was more drama, and people close to the companies felt that the OCC made it impossible for crypto firms to be approved.

In Protego’s case, the company had lined up more than $100 million in necessary funding ahead of its deadline, Gilman confirmed. But a month later, the OCC said that Protego’s application had failed because the money wasn’t physically in the bank yet, according to a person familiar with the situation. All Protego needed to do was wire the money in (it had previously been told that only needed to happen four days before its official opening date, once its application had been approved). But the OCC told the company that it was too late, the person said, because the conditional approval had expired. Protego was well-versed in how the process typically worked at the OCC: Brian Brooks, who ran the OCC during the Trump administration, sat on the company’s board.

In March, another event raised suspicions of coordinated anti-crypto actions even outside the ranks of those who usually pay attention to, or care about, such things. Following the demise of two relatively crypto-friendly banks, Silvergate and Silicon Valley Bank, the New York Department of Financial Services seized Signature Bank, which also catered to crypto firms, over the weekend following SVB’s collapse. This occurred despite the fact that Signature was not insolvent, according to board member and former congressman Barney Frank. “They’ve never said we were insolvent,” Frank, who is known for drafting the landmark Dodd-Frank legislation regulating the banking industry in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis, told me. “That’s why I speculate that using us as a poster child to say ‘Stay away from crypto’ was the reason.”

The closure of Signature was a stark contrast to the treatment of First Republic Bank, which faced a similar run (it lost $100 billion in deposits) but was not taken over by regulators at the time. Instead, the same evening the NYDFS closed Signature Bank, First Republic announced that it had received rescue funding from the Fed. The question of why Signature was not given access to the Fed’s new bank-bailout program has become a simmering fixation for many in the crypto industry, who see it as another sign that the bank was targeted for its ties to digital currency. The Wall Street Journal’s editorial page — which has a history of criticizing Frank — agreed with him in March: “The evidence increasingly suggests the former Congressman could be right … Signature made mistakes managing its balance sheet, but it shouldn’t be summarily executed because regulators have deemed some of their customers too politically toxic to exist.” While the NYDFS has denied that Signature was shut down due to its connections to crypto, bidders for Signature were reportedly required to abandon the bank’s crypto business, according to Reuters. And when Signature was subsequently sold to Flagstar Bank, some $4 billion in crypto-related deposits were excluded from the deal.

A spokesperson for the FDIC said that it offered bidders what’s known as “a whole bank transaction” for Signature Bank and that prospective buyers were allowed to bid on all of its deposits — crypto-related or not. The FDIC referred questions about why the deal did not include Signature’s digital-asset business to Flagstar, which did not respond to requests for comment.

A spokesperson for the NYDFS said the decision to take possession of Signature “was only made when it was clear the bank would be unable to do business in a safe and sound manner on Monday.” At a conference hosted by Chainalysis in New York this month, NYDFS superintendent Adrienne Harris said, “The idea that the taking possession of Signature was about crypto and this is ‘Choke Point 2.0’ is really ludicrous.”

Yet in a report that the FDIC released on Friday analyzing Signature’s failure, crypto figures heavily: “Poor management” was the primary cause of the bank’s collapse but, in particular, that it “failed to understand the risk of its association with the crypto industry.”

It’s enough of a pattern for even more-levelheaded crypto advocates to call the case of Signature Bank a smoking gun of a secret operation to rid the U.S. of its crypto businesses. “I think all the conspiracy theorists are definitely onto something,” says Sheila Warren, CEO of the Crypto Council for Innovation. “There is enough circumstantial evidence to say, ‘Oh yeah, that’s a real thing.’”

Monday, March 20, 2023

Use Kraken OTC / Exchange if you want to buy safe and secure large Bitcoin purchases

Imagine you have $100,000 / $1,000,000 / $10,000,000 / $100,000,000 / $1,000,000,000 and you want to use this to buy Bitcoin. Where would you go? 

I recommend Kraken OTC for safe and secure large Bitcoin purchases: 
https://www.kraken.com/en-gb/features/otc-exchange

Q: What is the Kraken OTC Desk? 

A: Kraken’s over-the-counter (OTC) desk offers a premium service that allows traders to execute orders off the open Kraken exchange. We offer deeper liquidity for tighter spreads as well as a more private, personalized service for institutional clients and high net-worth individuals needing to fill large orders. Kraken’s OTC desk provides execution and settlement services that are discreet, secure and ultra-competitive.

The OTC Portal is a self-service system that enables OTC clients to get executable, automated quotes for supported cryptoassets, including: Customized price charts based on your trading habits Position exposure information Recent transactions and OTC trading history RFQ access

Terms and eligibility Minimum order size is $100,000, however exceptions can be discussed on a case-by-case basis. Kraken OTC does not custody assets on behalf of trading counterparties. Eligibility for OTC trading is subject to AML/KYC and other requirements.

*******************
https://bbcdsatoshi.com/

Monday, August 6, 2018

Mt. Gox - Magic: The Gathering Online eXchange

Here is an interesting read. This is all about an exchange that was hacked. The name is/was Mt. Gox - Magic: The Gathering Online eXchange.

http://fortune.com/longform/bitcoin-mt-gox-hack-karpeles/

Mt. Gox and the Surprising Redemption of Bitcoin’s Biggest Villain
He led the world's largest Bitcoin exchange before a mysterious heist made it go bust. As clues emerge and Bitcoin's price surges, Mark Karpelès is on the hunt for answers.
By Jen Wieczner
April 19, 2018

The moment that would change the history of Mt. Gox came without so much as a beep. Mark Karpelès, the CEO of what until recently had been the world’s biggest Bitcoin exchange, was finally alone, save for his tabby cat, in his palatial penthouse with a panoramic view of Tokyo. It was the evening of March 7, 2014, and Karpelès had barely slept in the week since Mt. Gox had sought bankruptcy protection, announcing that 850,000 of its Bitcoins, worth some $473 million at the time—and representing 7% of all Bitcoins then in existence—had somehow disappeared. With protesters and camera crews swarming in front of Mt. Gox’s office and the price of Bitcoin in free fall, the usually unflappable Frenchman had been confined to a self-imposed house arrest, subsisting on the buttery pastries he liked to bake and reading the hate mail that flooded in from all corners of the Internet—most of it accusing him of stealing the money himself. Today the Mt. Gox hack remains the worst disaster in Bitcoin’s short history.

It wasn’t until his lawyers had gone home for the day that Karpelès could retreat to his computer, and that’s when he noticed the shocking number on his screen. Following his company’s collapse, he’d spent days methodically double-checking Mt. Gox’s old digital wallets, where the secret alphanumeric keys for accessing Bitcoins are stored. One after another—a dozen so far—the wallets had come up empty. But this time, when the blockchain-scanning program finished running after six hours, it had silently served up an unexpected result: He’d found 200,000 Bitcoins, stashed away in an archived file in the cloud—apparently forgotten and untouched for three years.

Mark Karpelès in Tokyo’s Shinjuku district. The former Mt. Gox CEO, who once felt safe leaving his laptop on a park bench, refused to set down his bag for fear of theft.
Mark Karpelès in Tokyo’s Shinjuku district. The former Mt. Gox CEO, who once felt safe leaving his laptop on a park bench, refused to set down his bag for fear of theft. Photographed by Eric Rechsteiner for Fortune
In a series of conversations with Fortune, Karpelès shared for the first time the full details of what he says really happened in the final days of Mt. Gox—including his account of how he stumbled on the 200,000 Bitcoins.

The surprise discovery would turn out to be, to this day, the only hope Mt. Gox customers have of getting their money back. It’s been proved that the other 650,000 missing Bitcoins were stolen—we now know, by various hackers. But Karpelès continues to be one of the most infamous figures in cryptocurrency. And his legal fate is uncertain, even as new evidence has emerged that largely exonerates him.

Ironically, today Karpelès doesn’t view the retrieval of the 200,000 Bitcoins as a lucky break. They’ve become such a subject of contention, in fact, that he wonders whether it might have been better if they’d remained lost. “At the time, I felt finding these was a good thing for everyone,” recalls Karpelès, now 32, his French accent still strong after nearly nine years in Japan. “But now this is also the main reason why we are stuck fighting.”

To many, the belated revelation seemed too good to be true—making the unemotional programmer-turned-mogul look even guiltier. Was he just coughing up his go-bag in an attempt to wiggle out of trouble? Soon, they had even more reason to suspect him: Leaked trading records suggested that what could only be an internal Mt. Gox account—widely known today as the “Willy bot”—was artificially inflating its account balance and using the money to buy Bitcoins. When Mt. Gox ran low on Bitcoins, Willy helped make up the shortfall. Sometimes its trades went the other way, selling borrowed Bitcoins to generate cash. Critics speculate that it was a fraudulent, if failed, exercise to keep Mt. Gox afloat.

That suspicious activity by the Willy bot led to Karpelès’s arrest in August 2015 on charges of manipulating electronic data; he admitted in court last summer to running what he called the “obligation exchange” but disputes doing anything illegal. After spending almost a year in jail, Karpelès is currently on trial in Tokyo, facing criminal allegations such as embezzlement and breach of trust, all unrelated to the missing Bitcoins.

But it was an unforeseen twist that today is causing Karpelès the greatest angst. Between the time Mt. Gox shut down and when it entered liquidation in April 2014, the price of Bitcoin had plummeted more than 20% to $483. It would be over two and a half years before Bitcoin would regain its previous high—long enough that many Mt. Gox victims didn’t even bother filing a claim for what they considered an insignificant sum. Then early last year, Bitcoin finally broke its old record. By late May, it was trading at nearly $2,200, making Mt. Gox’s remaining Bitcoins—202,185 to be exact—worth more than everything it owed in claims. When the Bitcoin price peaked at $20,000 in December, the value of Mt. Gox’s assets (by then including Bitcoin derivatives such as Bitcoin Cash) ballooned to $4.4 billion—nearly 10 times the amount Mt. Gox said it lost in the first place. “The fact that you have a bankruptcy where the only asset that it owns goes up by 5,000%, that’s pretty unprecedented,” says Daniel Kelman, a lawyer and Mt. Gox creditor who spent a year in Tokyo working on the case.

After months studying Japan’s bankruptcy code while in solitary confinement, Karpelès knew there was a wrinkle: Under the law, most of that excess would return to shareholders of Mt. Gox, of which he held 88%. At current prices, the windfall would make him a billionaire. It would also mean an interminable nightmare of lawsuits and threats that Karpelès—who is also in personal bankruptcy—is desperate to avoid. He says he’d happily give the money back if it came to him, but the estimated 60% tax triggered in the process would be catastrophic.

“I never expected to get anything out of this,” Karpelès tells me when we meet in Tokyo in March. “It would bring more trouble than anything.”

We’re on the second floor of a Japanese café, in a stuffy meeting room that Karpelès says is not much bigger than his jail cell. Deprived of a computer behind bars, he passed time by measuring the room using the length of his notebook. (After his release, Karpelès sent friends a chart of the 70 pounds he’d lost while detained.) It’s the first day in Tokyo that finally feels like spring, cherry blossoms in bloom, but he has holed up here in the café because it’s roughly equidistant from the offices of his various lawyers, as well as the bankruptcy trustee, whom he meets with regularly out of a sense of “duty” to his former customers. He’s been so busy, he says, he didn’t have time to shave that morning.

Karpelès took control of Mt. Gox—the name is an acronym for Magic: The Gathering Online eXchange, after the trading card game that inspired the original site—in 2011 from founder Jed McCaleb. Employees don’t remember Karpelès ever seeming fazed about anything: He took meetings from a vibrating massage chair and churned out combs using a 3D printer he’d bought for the office. His hallmark reply to questions: “Should be fine.”

But he’s lately developed a sense of gallows humor uncharacteristic of his Mt. Gox days. Even if he wanted to buy Bitcoin today, he doubts he could find an exchange that would take his money, he laughs, and notes that it’s been a few months since he’s received any death threats—“a new record.” He turns serious, though, when he recounts the sleepless nights in February 2014 when he says he first discovered that all of Mt. Gox’s Bitcoins were missing. “I think this really is the worst experience for anyone to have in life,” he says. Still, he’s not sure he could have done the job better. “If I knew at the time what I know today, I would have done things differently, of course,” he says with a practiced tone. “But based on the information I had at the time, and the situation at the time, I still think that I’ve done the best I could do with what I had.”

The question of what Karpelès knew, and when, though, remains more of a mystery than even who stole the coins. Bitcoin’s public ledger, or blockchain, allows anyone to trace the path of transactions, showing the wallets where Mt. Gox’s Bitcoins went. But the same blockchain analysis, multiple experts have confirmed, has also revealed an unsettling fact: By mid-2013, Mt. Gox had already lost all its Bitcoins—eight months before it admitted so publicly.

The timing of this insolvency, analysis shows, coincided with the Willy bot kicking into high gear—perhaps providing a hint as to Karpelès’s true motivations. “I feel that this is a reaction to this revelation that okay, all the money is gone,” says Michael Gronager, CEO of Chainalysis, which was hired by the Mt. Gox bankruptcy trustee to investigate the Bitcoins’ disappearance. Yet it’s also why he doesn’t believe Karpelès was planning to run away with the 200,000 Bitcoins. “I think that had he found them before he went bankrupt, he would never have gone bankrupt,” says Gronager. Rather, he says, Karpelès would have used the hoard to cover his losses.



When Mt. Gox froze Bitcoin withdrawals in 2014, a customer named Kolin Burges hopped a flight from London to Tokyo. For more than two weeks, until Mt. Gox declared bankruptcy, he kept vigil outside the exchange’s headquarters, holding a sign reading, “MTGOX WHERE IS OUR MONEY?” Other protesters soon joined him, demonstrating the frustration of Mt. Gox customers worldwide.

Kim Nilsson was just as vexed, but standing in the snow wasn’t his style. A modest Swedish software engineer with a goatee and a quiet voice, Nilsson, who also owned Bitcoins at Mt. Gox, had never before worked on blockchain technology. But he had a reputation for getting to the bottom of the toughest software bugs; in his off-time, he’d been known to beat all the levels of Super Mario Bros. 2 in an afternoon sitting. And that’s how he approached Mt. Gox: “It was basically just the world’s biggest puzzle at the time—like whoever solves this, imagine the recognition.”

Kim Nilsson, the software engineer who cracked the Mt. Gox case, standing on the street near Shinjuku Station in Tokyo.
Kim Nilsson, the software engineer who cracked the Mt. Gox case, standing on the street near Shinjuku Station in Tokyo. Photographed by Eric Rechsteiner for Fortune
He teamed up with some other Mt. Gox customers to launch WizSec, a blockchain security firm dedicated to cracking the case. But while the company quickly dissolved, Nilsson stayed on the case in secret, teaching himself blockchain analysis and painstakingly tracing the money stolen from Mt. Gox. Although Nilsson started off investigating Karpelès’s role in the theft, he soon realized the CEO was just as eager as he was to know what happened. At a time when Karpelès needed friends most, the WizSec team scored an invite to his apartment by offering to bring the Frenchman the ingredients he needed to bake his famous apple quiche. Soon, Karpelès was feeding Nilsson internal Mt. Gox data that could help solve the case. “I wish I had stolen the money, because then I could just give it back,” Karpelès told them at the time.

Over the next four years, Nilsson estimates he spent a year-and-a-half’s worth of full-time hours pursuing the Mt. Gox hackers. He’s never been paid for his work; his 12.7 Bitcoin claim at Mt. Gox makes him one of its smallest creditors. To J. Maurice, who helped found WizSec but left the company early on and was not involved in the investigation, Nilsson’s effort epitomizes the virtues of Bitcoin—a decentralized system free of government control, which relies instead on individual users to sustain it. “Kim is humble, he doesn’t brag, he doesn’t even want to get rich. He’s just working hard on something for years as his passion project,” Maurice says. “That’s what Bitcoin is.”

By early 2016, Nilsson had a suspect. As he tracked the stolen funds, he saw that, of the 650,000 Bitcoins reported stolen from Mt. Gox, 630,000 had gone straight into wallets controlled by the same person. That person also had an account at Mt. Gox, associated with the username WME. Then Nilsson stumbled across an old post in an online Bitcoin forum in which someone with the handle WME had thrown a tantrum, complaining that another cryptocurrency exchange had frozen his funds. “Give [me] my CLEAN MONEY!” read the post. In the process, WME dropped clues that he owned some of the Bitcoin wallets in question. But the big break came when the same user posted a letter from his lawyer, his first and last name visible for the whole world to see. Nilsson, as he routinely did with his findings, dashed off an email to Gary Alford, a special agent with the IRS in New York who has helped catch cybercriminals.

Then one scorching day last July, police stormed a beach in Greece to arrest a Russian citizen vacationing with his family. U.S. federal prosecutors charged Alexander Vinnik, a 38-year-old IT specialist, with laundering 530,000 of the stolen Mt. Gox Bitcoins through his WME wallets and other accounts. They also accused him of helping to run the exchange BTC-e, whose primary purpose was allegedly to launder money. It is plausible, investigators say, that BTC-e was founded specifically to launder funds stolen from Mt. Gox. Blockchain analysis shows that the hack that devastated Mt. Gox began in autumn 2011, around the time BTC-e started up. Keys to Mt. Gox’s “hot wallet”—its online Bitcoin repository—were stolen and copied, compromising the exchange’s deposit addresses. So for the next two years, in nine out of 10 instances, coins were being stolen as soon as they came in, says Chainalysis’ Gronager, who is also a creditor: “It meant that you had a hole in the bottom of the well, and someone was just draining money.”

Karpelès claims he never noticed because the hackers stole small amounts at a time, and the balances generally seemed to move upward. “Bitcoin didn’t exactly decrease,” he says. “It’s just that they didn’t increase as much as they should.”

Nilsson, who believes he has convincingly linked Vinnik to at least 100,000 more Mt. Gox Bitcoins than the feds allege, still doesn’t know whether he helped the government’s investigation or simply confirmed its conclusions. With Vinnik fighting extradition from Greece and five outstanding defendants whose names remain redacted in the U.S. indictment, the IRS won’t comment on the “active and ongoing” investigation. But Kathryn Haun, a former federal prosecutor who signed off on the indictment, says Vinnik’s use of Bitcoin helps clearly connect him to the crime: “At first blush what seemed unsolvable turned out to be traceable through the use of digital currency.”

For Karpelès, Vinnik’s arrest reinforced a long-held theory: that Russian Bitcoin exchange administrators were behind a series of ­denial-of-service and other cyberattacks that hit Mt. Gox in 2011. Says Karpelès, “What he did, Mt. Gox is a victim of this, which means that all creditors are victims of this, and I am too a victim of this.”

Vinnik, who has denied the charges, has not been charged with stealing from Mt. Gox. But the magnitude and duration of his involvement points to some familiarity with the thieves whose profits he was allegedly laundering: “I assume at least he knows where to send the check,” says Nilsson.

Still, there’s an ironic punch line to the case: Because the stolen Bitcoins were sold right away, allegedly by Vinnik and long before Mt. Gox disclosed the hack, victims lost much more, in dollar value, than the hackers ever made—which, according to Chainalysis, was only about $20 million.

And as soon as the Bitcoins were converted to cash, the blockchain trail was broken. That means that even if authorities seize Bitcoins from the suspects, there won’t be anything to prove they’re from Mt. Gox. Sean Hays, a creditor in Arizona who says his 338 Bitcoin claim would be “life-changing,” adds, “I’ll be glad to have part of it back, but I think there will always be the hunt for where’s the rest?”

But for Burges, the key question that inspired his protest has finally been answered. “We know where the coins went, and we won’t get them back,” he says. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s solved.”

For almost four years, Josh Jones assumed he’d eventually receive his rightful portion of his nearly 44,000 Bitcoins locked inside Mt. Gox. By mid-2017, Bitcoin’s price was soaring, and Mt. Gox had enough to pay out the $430 million it owed in claims several times over. Then last September, Mt. Gox trustee Nobuaki Kobayashi, a top restructuring lawyer also representing Takata in the airbag-maker’s bankruptcy, broke the news: Under Japanese bankruptcy law, the value of creditors’ claims were capped at what they were worth back in 2014: $483 per Bitcoin. “That’s just crazy,” says Jones, who held most of the coins on behalf of his clients at Bitcoin Builder, the service he built to facilitate arbitrage trading at Mt. Gox in its final weeks. “That can’t be how it’s going to work out.”

But while there was little Jones could do back home in Santa Monica, another major creditor took it upon himself to ensure the Bitcoins would be fully divvied up among Mt. Gox victims. Richard Folsom, an American who worked for Bain & Co. in Tokyo before founding one of the first private equity shops in Japan, hired the biggest Japanese law firm and came up with a plan: What if Mt. Gox wasn’t technically bankrupt anymore? Their petition for “civil rehabilitation” of Mt. Gox, filed in November, is now pending before the Tokyo District Court; an outside examiner recommended in its favor in February. Shin Fukuoka, the partner at Nishimura & Asahi leading the effort, is confident it will be approved, as early as the end of April. “We think that the court has sufficient understanding about the problems in the case of proceeding with bankruptcy,” Fukuoka says.

Those problems, of course, include the fact that the majority of Mt. Gox’s assets would otherwise accrue to Mark Karpelès. “Such an outcome would be a travesty,” says Jesse Powell, CEO of Kraken, the San Francisco–based Bitcoin exchange appointed to help investigate and distribute Mt. Gox claims (and himself a substantial creditor).

If Fukuoka’s plan works, it would be the first time in Japan that a business “abolished” in bankruptcy was rehabilitated, he says: “These are very unique circumstances.” In a traditional civil rehabilitation, once the court gives the green light, it typically takes six months for the plan to be finalized—meaning optimistically, creditors could begin to get paid, preferably in Bitcoins, as soon as late this year. Fukuoka says he’s also considering mandating further investigation into the stolen Bitcoins as part of the rehab plan, in hopes more will be recovered. (A $75 million lawsuit from CoinLab that has held up the bankruptcy process could be sidestepped by setting aside a legal reserve fund in the meantime, he adds.) It would be an extraordinary outcome for creditors like Thomas Braziel, managing partner of New York–based hedge fund B.E. Capital Management, who has bought up $1 million worth of claims at 80¢ on the dollar, believing he will turn a profit no matter what. “Of course, if the rehabilitation happens, it’s a bonanza, and you make eight, nine, 10 times your money,” Braziel says.

That would be a relief to Mt. Gox’s disgraced CEO, who says he’s had enough of the cryptocurrency business to last a lifetime: “The only thing I’m touching related to cryptocurrency is how to solve this bankruptcy. Nothing more,” says Karpelès. Besides, he has lost faith in the initial promise of digital money: “Bitcoin right now is, I believe, doomed.”

Since his release from jail two summers ago, Karpelès has been moving apartments every few months out of concerns for his own safety. During three months of all-day interrogations while detained, he refused to confess to the accusations Japanese authorities threw at him—including, at one point, that he was Satoshi Nakamoto, Bitcoin’s mysterious founder. Still, despite what he feels is a weak case against him, he thinks the odds are he’ll be found guilty, at least during this first trial; Japan, which has a more than 99% conviction rate, is also one of a few countries that allows prosecutors to appeal an acquittal twice. In a year or two, he could be sent back behind bars. “After I came out, I felt like in a kind of dream, like I didn’t feel things were real,” he says, over a slice of cake with cream and cherries. “Even today I’m not sure yet.”

Karpelès, though, is not on trial for what even his sympathizers fault him for the most: lying about Mt. Gox’s insolvency. “When Mt. Gox didn’t have any of the coins, he was getting new deposits from other customers to pay off other people—kind of like a Bernie Madoff,” says Kelman, the lawyer.

For now, Karpelès, who’s never been to the United States (and isn’t allowed to leave Japan while on trial), is leveraging his mastery of Japanese and the country’s formal business customs. The arrest of Vinnik has made it easier to find work, he says, by lifting some blame from Karpelès. Even so, the taint of Mt. Gox follows him. “He is unhirable,” says Mike Kayamori, the CEO of Japanese cryptocurrency exchange Quoine.

Yet earlier this year, Mark Karpelès landed a big new job: chief technology officer at London Trust Media, a Denver-based corporation that runs the largest virtual private network (VPN) service in the world. It has recently been expanding into cryptocurrency-related ventures. “I am more than willing to give a second chance to Mark in this fight’s critical hour,” says Andrew Lee, cofounder and chairman of London Trust Media, who also briefly ran Mt. Gox’s U.S. operations.

Even if Mt. Gox’s rehabilitation succeeds, the company is unlikely to take another voyage. Still, that hasn’t stopped Karpelès from dreaming up schemes to get back the missing 650,000 Bitcoins. Even if the original coins can’t be retrieved, perhaps Mt. Gox could be revived long enough to generate revenue to finally make creditors whole; Karpelès also says he’s found one exchange that seems interested in pledging some of its own profits to victims.

But others, such as Kraken’s Powell, say the hole is simply too deep to fill. Besides, even if Mt. Gox did reopen, who would want to trade there? Adds Burges, the Mt. Gox protester, “It’s like having another ship called the Titanic.” For him, closure means letting the rest of the Bitcoins go down with the ship. 

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