Tequila, drugs and torture: The spending binge of two crypto bros that ended behind bars

Mint

a day ago

A private jet lifted off on a night in February, ferrying a media heir, fashion models and a mix of thrill-hungry luminaries from Palm Beach, Fla., to a novel redneck retreat in Smithland, Ky., population 237.
For the guests, Smithland sat in the middle of nowhere, at a bend of the Ohio River, in a county where most liquor sales are banned. That wasn't a problem. The plane was stocked with Dom Pérignon Champagne. One of the hosts, William Duplessie, doled out caviar en route.
Duplessie, a 33-year-old college dropout and crypto investor, and his co-host John Woeltz, 37, a cryptology and cybersecurity specialist from Paducah, Ky., had set out to ingratiate themselves with members of some of the wealthiest, most influential families in America.
The two men were on a mission that, whatever it was at the start, disintegrated into a weekslong binge of cocaine, booze and spending. It ended in May with arrests and allegations of kidnapping and torture within the posh confines of a $75,000-a-month rental in Manhattan, according to witnesses and courtroom testimony.
Duplessie and Woeltz had money to burn, alleged winnings from cryptocurrency endeavors that they spent at a breakneck pace on guns, drugs, real estate and entertainment. In January, they bought a house in Smithland, where $1.5 million went a long way: a furnished six-bedroom mansion with black marble floors, chandeliers, winding staircases and a swimming pool on nearly 2 acres. That was where the Palm Beach crowd gathered in February.
Party guests donned camouflage fatigues and played with military-style guns, night-vision goggles and a six-wheel off-road vehicle around the snowy property during the two-day bacchanal.
Duplessie and Woeltz claimed to have a trove of crypto capital ready to invest, a lure for some guests who joined the trip. One acquaintance said the men talked up plans to buy land and develop western Kentucky's economy, investing in hydroelectric dams and a luxury hotel. Duplessie, who had the state seal tattooed on his chest at some point during the festivities, was weighing a long shot bid for the Senate seat of former Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R., Ky.).
Then the good times dissolved into a paranoid nightmare.
The two men, who were going through cocaine by the pile, told guests they were more than just crypto investors. They claimed they met while working with U.S. intelligence services on clandestine crypto-related missions, hunting terrorists. Duplessie and Woeltz bragged they had recently abducted a German man they described as a terrorist, saying they killed him after stealing his cryptocurrency, according to people on the trip.
Duplessie and Woeltz typed messages on the dozens of typewriters scattered around the house, saying they feared they were under surveillance by the Chinese government, a guest said. One recalled Duplessie putting a gun to the head of his personal chef.
Nobody knew what to believe about their hosts until three months later.
On May 23, a 28-year-old cryptocurrency trader from Italy ran shoeless and bleeding from Duplessie and Woeltz's eight-bedroom townhouse in Manhattan and begged a New York City traffic cop for help. He said the men had held him for more than two weeks, using torture to try to pry loose passwords to his cryptocurrency accounts. They dangled him from the top of five flights of stairs, threatening to kill him if he didn't cough up a ransom, the man alleged in a criminal complaint.
Lawyers declined to comment on behalf of Duplessie and Woeltz, who have pleaded not guilty to charges of assault, kidnapping and coercion. If convicted, they could face life in prison.
This article is based on court records, phone recordings, government records, emails, photographs and text messages reviewed by The Wall Street Journal, as well as interviews with people who spent time with Duplessie and Woeltz in New York, Kentucky, California and Florida.
Duplessie and Woeltz, who told an acquaintance they met online several years ago, were raised in blue and red states, respectively, and appeared to have little in common except an interest in making a killing in crypto.
Duplessie grew up in Connecticut as a child of privilege, the son of a prominent hedge-fund manager. He studied business at Tulane University from 2015 to 2016 but didn't graduate. Friends and acquaintances called him energetic and gregarious. He drove Porsche and Lamborghini sports cars, sometimes dangerously fast, and collected speeding tickets, according to court records and one of his friends.
In 2017, he briefly dated Caroline Biden, former President Joe Biden's niece, another big-name connection, according to a friend from California. Duplessie called Biden to say she looked 'hot" in courtroom photos, the friend said. She allegedly spent $110,000 on a friend's credit card without permission and pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor.
Duplessie was part of a growing collection of cryptocurrency entrepreneurs in Lugano, Switzerland. For three years, he ran a Luxembourg-based crypto investment fund with his father that initially raised $22 million, according to a 2019 announcement. The fund began liquidating in 2022 after a legal fight over performance fees.
He returned to the U.S. that year, to a rental apartment in Miami, and was later sued by a landlord and a luxury car rental company for missing payments. One suit was settled, and the other resulted in a default judgment against him, court records show.
Woeltz grew up in Paducah, the son of a neurologist and a microbiologist. He was a gifted student who graduated from University of Kentucky in 2012 before moving to California with a budding interest in cryptography and cybersecurity.He was drawn to open-source cryptocurrency projects designed to let users transact anonymously. The most prominent, a 'privacy coin" called Grin Coin, grew out of a joint effort by developers who often used pseudonyms from the Harry Potter series. Woeltz's shy, soft-spoken personality seemed to reflect his interest in anonymous transactions.
Duplessie—6-foot-5, 220 pounds—was a looming, raucous presence at parties and nightclubs. Woeltz, a shorter, more slender man, often sat quietly in a corner wearing sunglasses, according to people who socialized with both men.
Weeks after buying the Kentucky mansion, Duplessie and Woeltz landed in New York, where they racked up six-figure bills staying at luxury hotels. They ate in high-end restaurants and dropped huge sums for private tables and bottle service at nightclubs.
In March, they told acquaintances they were booted from the five-star Aman Hotel on 5th Avenue and West 57th Street, a neighborhood known colloquially as Billionaires' Row. They sought help finding a more permanent residence from Jessica Markowski, a luxury real-estate agent and star of the Netflix reality show 'Owning Manhattan."
Duplessie and Woeltz leased an eight-bedroom brick townhouse in Manhattan's swanky Nolita neighborhood. One advertised feature: soundproof stone walls more than a foot thick.
The $75,000-a-month Nolita townhouse on Prince Street in Manhattan.
Duplessie took a bedroom on the second floor, and Woeltz took the fourth floor. The third floor was an office. They talked about turning the basement into a nightclub. They hired staff, including young women as personal assistants. For security, they hired a moonlighting New York City detective who worked on Mayor Eric Adams's protection detail.
To decorate the house, the men sought help from Palm Beach- and New York-based art consultant Peter Brant Jr., the son of billionaire Peter Brant and supermodel Stephanie Seymour. Brant Jr. went to see their townhouse and steered his new clients to decorators and art galleries, which paid him a commission, according to a person familiar with the deals.
Peter Brant Jr. at a March event in Palm Beach, Fla.
Duplessie and Woeltz dropped about $400,000 on furniture and artwork, the person said.
A little more than a week before the party plane to Smithland, a Holiday Inn clerk in nearby Paducah called 911 for help. A German-speaking guest, the clerk said, shared alarming text messages from her son, who was visiting the U.S. from Switzerland.
'In English, it's saying, 'They don't want to let me go, bitcoin,'" the clerk said, relaying the texts after running them through a phone translator. ''Need help, they are armed to the brim.'"
The mother said her son, Michael Mauer, went to see a friend named John in Smithland, on Birdsville Road—the street where Woeltz owned a smaller house. Woeltz had worked with Mauer on the Grin Coin project five years earlier.
As the 911 dispatcher coordinated a police response, she dished with the dispatcher in neighboring Livingston County, where Smithland is located, according to the 911 recordings. 'This isn't the first call we've had with Mr. John or Mr. William," the Livingston dispatcher said.
'This is not what I'd expect for a typical Sunday night in Livingston County," the Paducah dispatcher said.
'When they moved to town, nothing's been typical," the Livingston dispatcher responded.
The Birdsville Road property in Smithland, Ky.
Not long after, Mauer called his mother to say he had been released. He walked to an intersection in Smithland where he was met by an officer. Mauer didn't respond to requests for comment.
Scott Hernandez, 37, met Duplessie and Woeltz on the party plane to Smithland in February and brought with him impressive political connections.
Hernandez spent several years at investment bank Barclays, where he worked with former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, according to two people familiar with the matter. Hernandez's mother is a major Republican donor and fundraiser who backed the presidential campaigns of Bush, Texas Sen. Ted Cruz and President Trump.
Hernandez's father ran the Spanish-language media company Telemundo before its $539 million acquisition by Sony and Tele-Communications in 1997. In the years since, he has served on the boards of Fox Corp., MGM Resorts International and Walmart. Fox and the Journal's parent company, News Corp, share common ownership.
After the Smithland trip, Hernandez joined Duplessie and Woeltz for a few nights out in New York, where Hernandez lived. Duplessie told Hernandez about his idea of seeking McConnell's Senate seat in the 2026 midterm election.
Scott Hernandez at the Smithland, Ky., party house.
On Duplessie's behalf, Hernandez contacted Betsy Ankney, a Republican campaign strategist who ran former South Carolina Gov. Nikki Haley's 2024 presidential bid. Hernandez didn't know Ankney, but she agreed to meet with Duplessie on the strength of Hernandez's family ties.
On March 7, Ankney emailed a tentative plan for Duplessie to strengthen his public profile. It included weekly media training sessions and appearances at the Kentucky Derby and other state events. Duplessie talked about plans for what he called the Wildcat Fund, which would buy distressed land and assets from Chinese investors in Kentucky and other heartland states. Acquaintances said Duplessie and Woeltz often expressed hostility toward China.
Like Duplessie's blockchain fund, the Wildcat Fund would potentially trade on the reputation of his father, James Duplessie, who was listed as the fund's chief investment officer in a draft document. The elder Duplessie didn't respond to requests for comment.
Ankney thought the notion of a 'young self-made crypto billionaire buying back land from China" might yield political returns among conservatives, according to her memo.
During Ankney's second of two meetings with Duplessie, she visited the Nolita townhouse, still bare beyond the bar stools and trays of fruit, meat and cheese sitting on counters. Duplessie was polite but seemed unfocused, tapping away at an iPad and chain smoking.
Duplessie told Ankney that he and Woeltz planned to turn the townhouse basement into a nightclub. She said that if he was serious about running for office, he should avoid flashy nightlife altogether. Ankney charged $30,000 for her initial services, and Duplessie asked whether she would accept cryptocurrency. She declined.
The consulting arrangement lasted less than a month. By late March, Ankney stopped hearing from the two men and assumed they had lost interest.
Brant Jr. cut ties with Duplessie and Woeltz after the two men were late on a $100,000 payment to a luxury furniture supplier he had referred them to, said a person familiar with the matter. Hernandez also distanced himself, deciding they were big on ideas they couldn't sustain.
Yet Duplessie and Woeltz ascended in the New York social scene, snagging seats at a star-studded Met Gala afterparty on May 5, hosted by nightlife kingpin Richie Akiva. They were among the A-list guests at the soiree, including Stevie Wonder, Leonardo DiCaprio and Mayor Adams. Akiva didn't respond to requests for comment.
The day after the Met Gala party, Michael Valentino Teofrasto Carturan landed in New York. Carturan had introduced Duplessie to Woeltz, according to prosecutors. Carturan told his family he wanted to sightsee and practice his English on the trip. He was picked up by one of Duplessie and Woeltz's security guards and driven to the Nolita townhouse.
There are two versions of what happened next: One from Carturan and prosecutors, another from lawyers representing Duplessie and Woeltz.
Prosecutors said Woeltz and Duplessie had been threatening Carturan and his family for months, and that they had forced him to transfer cryptocurrency to them on an earlier visit. His May trip had been arranged with the promise of retrieving some of the crypto they had taken, they said.
Duplessie and Woeltz took away Carturan's electronic devices and passport as soon as he arrived at the townhouse, Carturan told authorities. They put an Apple AirTag around his neck to track his movements and bound his hands. Then the torture started, prosecutors allege.
Carturan claimed Duplessie and Woeltz beat him, shocked him with electric wires and cut his leg with a small electric chain saw, according to court papers. Prosecutors said in court that the two men doused Carturan with tequila and set his clothes on fire. They put out the fire by urinating on him, prosecutors said. No burns were found on Carturan's body, they said.
Wayne Gosnell, Woeltz's attorney, said the flames may have been startling but were harmless. 'That's not torture, that's a prank," Gosnell said at a July 23 bail hearing in New York.
Carturan told police Duplessie and Woeltz took photos trying to show that Carturan wasn't a captive. Police found T-shirts printed with a photo showing Carturan with a crack cocaine pipe in his mouth. At times, he said he was unbound but told if he escaped, the men would track him down and kill him and his family.
In court hearings, defense attorneys for Woeltz and Duplessie said Carturan had been seen going to church services, dinners, nightclubs and stores. Carturan came to New York to join Woeltz and Duplessie's business ventures as well as their libertine lifestyle, according to the lawyers. 'And it was quite a lifestyle," Gosnell told the judge at the July 23 hearing. He described it as 'a frathouse with essentially unlimited funds," and Carturan a 'pledge" who was willing to undergo a hazing to join.Prosecutors cited text messages from employees at the house saying Carturan was under constant surveillance and could be put in a cage if he left a room without permission. Defense attorneys said the texts, which were read aloud in court, lacked context and should be taken as jokes.
Carturan told investigators that on May 23 he agreed to reveal his passwords after being pistol-whipped and dangled from a multistory stairwell. When Woeltz left the room to retrieve Carturan's laptop, Carturan saw a chance to escape and sprinted out of the house.
Police found blood evidence in spots where Carturan said he had been tortured, photos of Carturan with a gun pointed at his head, as well as crack cocaine, body armor, night-vision goggles and a loaded pistol. Prosecutors said police found fake documents that purported to charge Carturan with violations of the antiterror Patriot Act statutes.
William Duplessie, left, and John Woeltz during a July 15 court appearance in New York.
Weeks later, federal agents searched the mansion in Smithland as well as Woeltz's nearby home. They found what prosecutors described as a manifesto explaining how they would use psychological warfare techniques to gain the trust of foreigners and seize their cryptocurrency.'We will take crypto and bitcoin from evil people that are using it to fund terrorism," according to prosecutors who read aloud portions of the document at the bail hearing.
Duplessie and Woeltz were granted permission to be released on bail from New York's Rikers Island jail complex and await trial under house arrest. Bail was set at $1 million each. On Thursday, Woeltz was fitted for an ankle monitor and walked from the courthouse.
Duplessie, who in his political plan was to launch his Senate campaign in July, remained in custody.
Write to Ashley Wong at [e-mail], Ben Foldy at [e-mail] and John McCormick at [e-mail]