If You Build Something They Can’t Control, They Will Call It a Conspiracy
===
Roman Storm is not just on trial for building Tornado Cash.
He’s on trial for building something they couldn’t shut down.
And now the government wants to ban him from even explaining why he built it.
They’re trying to silence any mention of privacy rights.
Any reference to the legitimate use of the tool.
Any defense that might make the jury ask:
Wait—could this thing actually be good?
Because if they ask that, the case collapses.
Roman didn’t launder money.
He built a permissionless tool that anyone could use—including criminals, yes—but also:
Journalists.
Whistleblowers.
Domestic abuse survivors.
Political dissidents.
And regular people with families and enemies.
When the feds came asking for backdoors, Roman helped them to the extent he could.
But the contract keys had already been burned.
It couldn’t be turned off.
So instead of targeting the abusers, they’re targeting the builder.
Now, the government will bring in victims.
But not victims of Roman.
Victims of other criminals—scammed through WhatsApp, defrauded through shady schemes—whose attackers used Tornado Cash after the fact.
Roman never met these people. Never aided their attackers.
But he’s the one in the dock.
Why?
Because the tool worked as designed—blindly, openly, permanently.
And that is the sin.
Privacy is the heresy.
Code is the blasphemy.
Roman Storm is the witch.
During opening statements, the defense asked:
How would you feel if someone published your bank account online?
The government panicked.
They filed a motion to silence all arguments involving privacy rights or legitimate use cases.
Why?
Because that question landed.
It pierced the narrative.
Suddenly, Tornado Cash wasn’t a threat—it was a seatbelt. A lock. A firewall.
And Roman Storm wasn’t a conspirator.
He was an engineer who refused to build a backdoor.
The state calls this argument “irrelevant and inflammatory.”
But what they really mean is:
Too persuasive.
Too relatable.
Too dangerous to let the jury hear.
So they’ll show victims Roman never harmed.
And forbid him from showing the people his work protected.
This isn’t a trial.
It’s a message.
To builders.
To investors.
To communities:
Don’t try this again.
This case isn’t about laundering.
It’s about precedent.
It’s about making open, irreversible, non-censorable infrastructure untouchable—not just legally, but financially, socially, and reputationally.
A digital DMZ.
They don’t care who used it.
They care that it can’t be shut off.
That is the crime.
Not collaboration with criminals—
—but failure to anticipate and disable the future.
They want to make one thing clear:
If you build something we can’t control, we will say you conspired.
Even if you helped.
Even if you warned them.
Even if you never touched a dime.
Roman Storm’s true offense?
He built something the state couldn’t revoke.
And when they came to ask him to undo it, they found they had arrived too late.
So now they will punish the very act of building.
So that no one else dares to try.
Because—
If the jury hears the real reason the tool was made—
they’ll see this for what it is.
And the state cannot allow that.
So they silence the defense.
And drown the court in the pain of others.
But this isn’t justice.
It’s a ritual.
And Roman Storm is not just the defendant.
He’s the example.
So that the next one asks:
Do I really want to build this?
Or will they come for me too?
If we let this precedent stand—
It won’t be just privacy that’s criminalized.
It will be the act of building freedom itself.
And we won’t need trials anymore.
Just fear.
context: https://x.com/designheretic/status/1945945437778706707
It’s crunch time and the machine is doing what it does to anyone in its crosshairs
Please help Roman and the entirety of the open source software movement by giving what you can 🫡
https://x.com/rstormsf/status/1943818181304627320
